|I can see the Knesset from my balcony. See the enlargement below.|
1. There's a certain reverence in the polling station. perhaps it's the fact that we're all adults and young children. But maybe there's an unspoken awe of being part of a democracy and having the right to vote.
2 And camaraderie. Polling stations are a local thing, so obviously you meet people you know. And even people you don't know get chatting as they queue up outside the classrooms.
3. It felt like waiting to go into the nurse for a vaccination shot. The door opens and one person comes out then the person at the head of the queue goes in. The door shuts. You wait three minutes, and the door opens again for the next person. You go in all serious and, I swear, everyone comes out smiling. It was painless, I didn't feel a thing.
4. And you continue smiling as you emerge into the warm sunshine and walk down the road. As proud as if you've just finished a 12 hour shift at a soup kitchen. As proud as being a Jew able and free to vote in your own country.
|And there it is, in the centre (hahaha), |
third building from the top.
6. But also a bustle of celebration. families are out picnicking, hiking, and at the beaches. The cafes are full. With each of the 43 parties having a list of candidates up to 120 (but most far fewer) there are about 1,000 of them out on the streets, mingling with the public, shaking hands, visiting your table in the coffee shop. Remember this is a very small country. After such an aggressive and often nasty campaign period, it's good to see everyone just discussing over a cappuccino.
7. I don't understand the purpose of the exit polls. Why scramble to produce predictions only a few hours before the actual results? Seriously, go to the beach.
8. In a few short hours I can turn my phone text notices on again and answer the landline without a barrage of recorded messages from political parties. Otoh, I know that today's happy atmosphere will disappear once more when the election results are announced. Like the Brexit recriminations, everyone who didn't get what they wanted will be sulking and whinging on facebook and in real life. My answer to all of them is, as always, "Darling, didn't you understand how a democracy works when you went to vote?"
It's no secret that I voted for Orly Levy's Gesher Party. Their letter code on the voting slip was nun resh. It spells out the word Ner, meaning candle. Now I'll be singing Sarit Hadad's Light a Candle all day. However, as the song goes, a thousand candles in the dark can open up our hearts.