Giving Birth on the Number 4 Bus; A Word on Transport

Number of Cockroach Sightings:  2 (one in kitchen and another by the entrance to a flat we viewed)

As far as I remember, speed bumps were invented to slow down the speed of traffic in quiet neighbourhoods.  Not so in Karmiel, it seems.  Here, the bus drivers simply view them as an annoyance to be dealt as quickly as possible.  Have you ever sat, 36 weeks pregnant on a rollercoaster with potholes?? It was something like that.  This evening bus was very empty but despite me screaming in agony at every single one, the driver just carried on.  I don’t think he would have noticed if I had given birth (and believe me it came very close to that), although he would have probably got me to the hospital in record time.

Public Transport here is on the whole impressive and often quite cheap.  There are very reliable sheruts (minibus-taxi type thing) which will turn up and scoop you off the pavement within minutes of you calling them.  Fine if you don’t mind minimal aircon, a bumpy ride and the woman next to you showing you pictures of her grandchildren.  Trains are bizarrely punctual, clean and airconditioned, and the city is well serviced by buses which are ok for anyone not hugely pregnant.  We do sometimes get nazi-drivers who make you collapse your buggy even if your toddler is trying to get to sleep, and be warned if one’s balance is a little off to start with it’s easy to be flung across the entire bus when it does a roundabout. 

Jojo, mind you, loves public transport.  He gets to sit on our laps (rather than being tied to a chair, can’t be much fun) and has women cooing over him on every journey.  They constantly call him a “chamudah” (girl sweetie) and I have to tell people he is actually a chamud (boy version).  For him the buses provide huge entertainment (I am the woman singing “The Wheels on The Bus” that nobody wants to sit next to) and the trains are an opportunity to run around trying to get as many women as possible to smile at him.  He normally gets around a 95% hit rate.  I am wondering what sort of career this will lead to, but at the moment it’s really handy as Husband and I can simply do a Wayne & Waynetta Slob (from Harry Enfield, circa 1994) scene when we board: 

“Excuse me” (said very sweetly) “would you mind looking after our baby for us?”

(Right, leg it)

So far nobody has ever brought him back.