Friday, Shabbat Eve, Parshat Korach. The heat is unbearable even in Jerusalem. I'm looking for a place to escape the hot air. For my part, may the earth make up for it if it's cooler there. I arrived at a hot market, humid and wet from the heat, but the cool atmosphere of the beers and crackers in the market did me only good, and cooled all the heat.
As I arrive at the market, I see a pair of eyes peering at me: a little boy hiding behind his father. Immediately after I photographed him, his father reminded me that exactly a year ago I photographed him on Friday at the new train station in Jerusalem. The boy refuses to cooperate even when his father comes to his aid.
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The Gelbstein family arrived in full formation. "Do you remember us?" the father asks. I look at him a little embarrassed. I don't remember. "You photographed us at Yafit and Shmulik Fertig's wedding this week, in Bnei Brak." I strain my memory, but I can't remember. He insists: "I'm Yafit's brother, Itzik." So here they are, now that it was just the two of them at the wedding, here they are in the market in full formation, and again with a little photo-rejecting girl, who tries to escape the lens.
It started with Nati Shilitz standing up to take a picture, and after a minute Hagai Vaknin and his friend Moishe Shilitz joined in. While I was trying to take a picture, more and more people joined in every few seconds, including Eli Rottenmer and Yossi Aberman. That's how this picture was created. I didn't have much time to wait, so it turned out that Efi Epstein was left peeking from behind with half an eye - at the picture and the group.
He is the CEO or VP of 'Works for the Haredim'. On the street they say he is the heir to Avigdor Rabinowitz. With a smile and much more audience affection than the boss. I caught him at the market with all this shopping. Who are you doing all this shopping for, Hillel?, because I know he is looking for a match. "It's for my family, I help as best I can." A guy like Erez.
In a side alley, Eli Pollak and Zeevi Sofer are sitting over a glass of wheat beer (if you're really interested, it's 13.5 percent alcohol). How will you get home? Eli Pollak laughed: "I also don't want to tag myself in the series of photos on Facebook under the hashtag #imaginary_photos, so I have a friend who will take us home. He's currently shopping. I raised a 'cheers' glass with them and continued looking for the driver.
Slowly, following the thumb side, he pushed his cart and filled it with all the market's goodies. When he reached the challah stand, the owner of the basta announced that each challah was for a shekel. After filling his bags with plenty of challah and moving away from the basta, I also came to buy challah. But then the price suddenly jumped back to four shekels per challah. To my astonishment, the seller explained: "I'm only announcing this so that I can earn the right to buy challah from me for Shabbat...""
In a shop inside the market, I found Kobi Stefanski, a highly regarded chef and rising star in the food industry. Today, he is also one of the right-hand men of Rabbi Shalom Ber Suretzkin of the Ateret Shlomo kollel chain. He travels far and wide thanks to the gourmet meals he prepares for yeshivahs. He was waiting for his wife to choose a hat. In the meantime, he was also measuring. I couldn't resist his smile.
They are from America. They came here to have a bar mitzvah and were looking for something to photograph in the market. They hurried and ran in all directions. I saw them almost everywhere I went. Suddenly they appeared taking photos, excited. I decided to photograph them at work, so that at least they would have a nice souvenir from the market.
""Be happy and you will earn," they said almost in unison as they passed me. And what will I earn? "You will earn and be happy, happiness is the most profitable thing there is. You invest a little and you will be happy a lot without end." And are you happy? I asked. "Of course," they answered again in unison. "We are very happy. Can't you see?" Then they broke into a happy dance.
Meanwhile, in search of childhood flavors, he immersed himself in a candy stand, looking for the delicious coconut from his childhood. When he found it, he discovered that it was not the kosher he was used to buying. The Arab seller, who recognized the problem, told him: "Wait a minute, I'll bring you kosher, kosher that you eat. Here, he handed him a coconut, it's kosher with the horrifying kosher," I laughed at the mistake. But it was there.
""Don't write that I'm a babysitter, I'm shopping for Shabbat and I took the child to see and experience the market, like they took me when I was little." So here's a father and son who went out for some quality time at the market, with the scents of childhood and experiences from the past.
""Do you know me?" he asked, as he almost ran me over with his electric bike. I looked at him again and replied no. "I'm Yissachar Dov from Facebook, we've corresponded a few times," he said. Then I remembered the witty and funny guy who writes songs in an admirable way. My recommendation: Don't just follow him on the market, but also on Facebook.
What are you doing up there? I asked, as I took pictures. "What is this, what am I doing? I'm dancing the Shabbat Kabbalat dance, while dismantling the lamps, and reassembling them. What is this, what am I doing? I'm closing the store and going home to shower and go to synagogue early, to catch up on the Song of Songs with everyone..." Bless you, Israel.
While her parents were shopping at Denny's, she watched curiously as the salesperson weighed the nuts at his own pace, her gaze never leaving the shekel and the spoon. Even when the salesperson offered her dates and dried apricots, she didn't look away from continuing to weigh them.
The shops are already closing. On the side of a huge store, with "Shabbat" graffiti, one of the salesmen wishes me "Ramadan Kareem" and spreads a cardboard on the floor. When he got up, I asked him if he knew what the sign above him said. He replied: "Yes, it says Shabbat, but at my place it's Shabbat now, at yours it's Shabbat tomorrow.".
Avi Tefilansky, a dear and beloved man, gentle in spirit and with a moving and touching prayer. I photographed him with flowers for Shabbat, as he smiled and refused to say who it was for. After that, about twenty friends gathered around him, and for about twenty minutes, a 'Shabbat reception' took place in the open market square, against the backdrop of the closing of the bastas - with him being the cantor, the singer and the musician. The audience responded by singing together. A once-in-a-lifetime market experience. "Did you take a video?" he asked when he was finished. When I answered in the affirmative, he told me: "Great, so I can send something to my daughters, who don't see me.".
After a Carlebach-style Shabbat reception, Mandy Grossman surprised the audience and suggested that everyone sit down for a zitz, on the 3rd of Tammuz. When I told him that it was announced this week that he was not a Chabad follower and that he had said so on one of the television programs, he became angry and said: "They took things out of context. I am a Chabad follower in Ramach Avri and Shasha Gidi.
Moshe Heller, the hardworking journalist from Yerushalayim News, arrived at the market, but he hid behind Meir Weiner again and refused to come out until I promised not to photograph them again. He then said that the offices where he had worked for several years were leaving their home - and he was sad. I was sorry that the Braslavs were not there. Maybe they would have instilled a little joy in him.
A few minutes later, the 'Shabbat Warners' arrived, checking that everything was closed and ready for the arrival of Shabbat Hamalka. "Shabbat Shalom," they wished the group sitting next to Mendi Grozman in the midst of the gathering, and proceeded to rush the flower shops to close for the approaching Shabbat.
""You don't have to take pictures, you can take one picture, and have a good Shabbat," he told me after I put down the camera, after one picture didn't come out well. "Why is he taking pictures?" his son asked as they moved forward. I didn't have time to hear the answer.
And on my way home on Shari Yisrael Street in Geula, a father and his sons are walking to the synagogue. The setting sun is blinding their faces, and they are trying to avoid it. When I stopped by them to ask why they were walking to the synagogue so early, since there had not yet been a siren, I learned from the little boy that they were on their way to "fathers and sons." Good luck.
