My commute has become significantly more interesting. Not much longer, thankfully, but definitely more interesting.
It now involves driving through a few kilometers of the West Bank; I can hear some of you cursing me out while some of you are cheering me on. I’ll choose to ignore both reactions for now. I don’t think much about politics as I go through it; the goal is to get to work more than anything else.
Anyway, we pass a Palestinian sherut ‘depot’ on the way to the tunnels. Same concept as Israeli taxis, it’s just the license plates are green and the writing is in Arabic… for the most part.
What was funny today was that one of the sheruts was named… I mean, I come from the States where people name their cars, trucks and boats… Even their houses… But I liked the name of this one in particular:
Yafa The Princess of the Rood
A man should love his mode of transportation, especially if it’s also his livelihood. I’m assuming that yafa means the same in Arabic as it does in Hebrew, which is beautiful (I’m told that yafa is actually not an Arabic word and that the driver probably meant it in Hebrew… which is kind of funnier).
My husband wondered what they’d say if he painted our car yellow and he wandered over with a pack of cigarettes and a box of donuts and started chatting with them.
I replied, it’s probably not time for that yet. It’s also not our car.
Whadya got: