Parking lot blues

August 26, 2010 - 3:09 PM by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: A New Reality, Business, General, Israeliness, Life 

Like most parts of the developed world, parking lots are getting quite sophisticated in Israel. But sometimes, the more forward you get, the farther back you go.

Yesterday, I had an appointment at the labrynth-like Hadassah Hospital in Ein Kerem. When you first enter the comples, you take a parking ticket from a machine next to a little booth manned by an actual human being. There’s a sign saying it costs NIS 20 for the first hour.

Then you have a plethora of options to choose from in which to park, including their relatively new main parking lot which can welcome 1,000 vehicles and is close to the hospital’s main entrance. You need to insert your parking ticket there for the barrier to swing up and let you in, and the machine spews the ticket back to you.

So far, so good.

When it was time to leave, I wasn’t sure what to do regarding payment, but I figured that you paid back at the main entrance where I saw the person in the booth on my way in. So I got in the car and made my way out of the lot, but the barrier didn’t open.
Someone pointed to a sign outside a nearby door which said “Pay station’ and said “You have to pay there first.”

Luckily, nobody was behind me, so I backed up, parked again and went in to pay. A sign on the machine said ‘payment by cash or credit card.’ When I inserted my ticket, the window light came on saying I owed NIS 26. I inserted my credit card, looked around and whistled while I waited for the transaction to complete. My credit card came out of the machine, and I saw a receipt down in the bottom window of the machine, which I took, and figured that was in lieu of the parking ticket I initially inserted.

Made my way back to the car and the exit, and again the barrier didn’t open. This time, I pressed the intercom outside the car window and got the parking lot HQ. The voice on the other end told me that my payment hadn’t been accepted, and that I need to go back in and pay. I told him/it that of course I paid, and I even have the receipt.

He responded that it must have been a receipt somebody else left there, and that I needed to reinsert my parking ticket. I told him that the machine had kept the ticket.

Meanwhile, a line of cars, with not such patient drivers had formed behind me. Again, I had to back out, after they all backed up, and I returned to the pay station, where I pressed the intercom and the man/thing walked me through the steps to retrieve my ticket and pay my NIS 26.

The third time at the exit was a charm, and 20 minutes after I began, the barrier lifted up and I drove out. When I reached the hospital exit with the booth and the human, I had to hand him my parking ticket – he looked at it, and he raised the barrier to let me out.

I had to laugh. After all that automization and confusion (at least on my part), in the end, there was still a guy sitting there whose job it was to let me out. Couldn’t he have been taking the payment as well?
It’s a question I’ll ponder the next time I make my way to Hadassah.

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Back to nature

October 5, 2008 - 9:05 AM by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: General, History and Culture, Holidays, Religion, Travel 

sataf.jpgThe Shabbat between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur is referred to as ‘Shabbat Shuva’ – literally, a return to God and one’s self. Falling during the ten days of repentance, it’s the time for introspection and reflection, ahead of the upcoming Yom Kippur fast.

While we usually observe Shabbat Shuva at our synagogue in Jerusalem, this year, we decided on a more novel approach – a scenic hike along Sataf, in the Jerusalem hills.

Located only a few minutes outside of Jerusalem, close to Hadassah Hospital, Ein Kerem, Sataf is a 250-acre thing of beauty, maintained by the Jewish National Fund. The downhill trail along the terraced mountainside includes the remains of a 4,000 BCE Chalcolithic village with some of the oldest agricultural traces in the region, the remains of a pre-1948 Arab village, an observation post overlooking the western entrance to Jerusalem, an abundance of fig and olive trees, and the Ein Sataf water spring.

According to the site, Gems in Israel, most of the remains found in Sataf are from the Byzantine era.

There is no mention of a village named Sataf in the Bible and the first occurrence of the name in writing, is from Ein Karem, during the Mamluk era. Most of the remains found in the Sataf are from the Byzantine era. The Arab village of Sataf numbered about 450 people around the middle of the 19th century. A short time after the War of Independence, a small group of immigrants from North Africa settled here – but they were only here for a few months. Later, the area served as a training area for the IDF’s 101st and paratrooper units. In 1985, the KKL-JNF began the restoration of ancient agricultural practices in the area, with the help JNF supporters from Switzerland.

The primary crops in the Judean Hills in ancient times included vineyards, olives, figs and pomegranates. In this rocky-hilly region, dry farming (which relies only on rainfall for irrigation) was practiced using an elaborate system of terraces and tunnels. The springs here were not plentiful, so the existing water supply had to maximized. This was achieved by tunneling into the water-bearing strata. An ingenious system of channels (parts of which are clearly visible) conducted the water that was stored in large pools to the terraced plots.

The place was packed with nature-loving Israelis, some taking advantage of the bicycle rental stand in the parking lot, to cycle down the steep road circling the terraces. But the hiking trails – ranging from 500 yards to two miles – are the main attraction. The trail floors of full of brown pine needles, reminding me of new England hikes of yore. And when you reach the bottom, and the Sataf pool, there’s a short water tunnel that the two seven-year-olds in tow had no problem going through at least 15 times in an hour, in between munching on a picnic lunch.

Despite the hordes of hikers, the trail didn’t feel congested, and until we reached the pool, we rarely saw anyone else. And unlike many public Israeli situations, these outdoor enthusiasts were respectful of both the surroundings and the people around them. No litter, loud music or barbecues here.

I even got a few moments alone to contemplate the year, the world and myself. I might have been able to do the same at ‘beit knesset’, but the surroundings at Sataf were certainly more inspiring. Now if we could only figure out a way to get there for Yom Kippur without driving, that would sure be a fast to remember.

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