Not surprisingly, learning to use public transit as our only mode of transportation here with 4 kids in tow has been one of the more hectic parts of our life here.
I read a tweet not long ago from someone in Jerusalem that said "I've never ridden a mechanical bull but I did ride the 71 today so I think I have a pretty good idea of what it's like" and that about sums it up. On the way to church one Saturday morning we accelerated sharply around a corner and in a flash our stroller--holding a buckled up Amos-- was laying on it's back. My large yeti of ice water shot out of the cup holder and dumped water and ice everywhere and began rolling around. Josh and I scrambled to set everything right, while an entire bus of staring straight-faced people looked on. "Crazy Americans" is always what I assume everyone is thinking about us every time something like this happens. And these things do happen.
One of the first times the boys and I tried to use the bus without Josh I was loudly scolded by the driver (in Hebrew) as I tried to get our stroller and three other boys through the door. I half ignored him, mostly concerned with not leaving any children behind, but I eventually asked him "be'anglit, bevahkuhshah?" ("In english, please?" -- the most helpful Hebrew phrase I've learned) and he threw up his hands and turned back to his driving. I'm pretty sure from the context clues I was able to piece together he was upset that I entered through the front door instead of the back, where I now know strollers are supposed to enter.
We have ridden the train with very loud drunk teenage Jewish boys during Purim (I've been told it's the one time every year Jews are encouraged to drink to drunkeness), had to walk home when buses never show up, gotten temporarily separated from our two oldest boys on the train as crowds pressed in between us, and ridden the right bus going the wrong direction more times than I'd like to admit.
The first time we went to Tel Aviv we almost didn't even make it out of the train station in Tel Aviv because we had unwittingly thrown our tickets away after getting off the train, not knowing that you have to scan your ticket again at the end of your trip to be allowed out of the station. One confusing conversation later they begrudgingly let us through without them. Later that night after walking over 19K steps through the city we made it back to the train station for our hour+ trip home where we promptly got on the wrong train that dropped us off at Lod around 8PM. So instead of going Tel Aviv --->Jerusalem and having everyone tucked in bed by by 9, we did a more interesting thing: Tel Aviv-->Lod-->Tel Aviv-->Jerusalem and everyone was in bed by midnight.
Amos enters almost every bus with a "Shawom! Fank you sir!" to the bus driver and has no problem yelling "see-haw" (Slicha = excuse me) as he squishes his way on and through trains and buses. What will he think of quiet rides buckled into a carseat when we return to the US next year?
