Difference between pages "R1a1a" and "Origins"

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'''OUTLINE'''
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''Two foreign students, [[Rachel]] and [[Yama]], both with ties to the missing archaeologist, leave Russia after his disappearance. [[Najwa]], who finds out about the story, decides to dig in as part of her research for LVA. Thinking that she could trace AF's Jewish origins to the Middle Age, Najwa stumbles onto her own past as she transit through Montreal, her father's birth city.
  
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''A Colombian man is suing Israel's government after having been refused Aliyah. The case is pending in before the country's Supreme Court and has brought international media attention to Israel's controversial Law of Return. As local community groups organize in support of the plaintiff, the government has been forced to address the issue before the existing Knesset Committee for Immigration, Absorption and Diaspora Affairs which in turn formed a sub-committee to address growing debate regarding the origins of the country's Ashkenazi majority.
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[[Down the Pipe|<< PREVIOUS EPISODE]] - [[The Last Khazar|NEXT EPISODE >>]]
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{{
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#display_map:45.51646, -73.57802; 23.143056, -82.380556
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|zoom=4
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}}
  
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''Minister of Diaspora
 
  
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''Teenagers claiming neo-nazi affiliation (Task Force 36)
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====MADRID BARAJAS AIRPORT====
  
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[[File:MadridBajarasT4.jpg|thumb|right|480px|Madrid Bajaras Terminal 4]]
  
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[[S1E11|<< PREVIOUS EPISODE]] -  [[Cannaregio 1943|NEXT EPISODE >>]]
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[[Najwa]] walks out of Emirates flight 141 into Terminal 4 of [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madrid%E2%80%93Barajas_Airport Madrid's airport]. Looking at the departures board, she notices that Iberia flight 6621 to Havana is only scheduled for 17:00. She's got 4 hours to kill. She loafs through the terminal admiring the wavy wooden roof. She's hungry. A man at a coffee stand suggests she tries a tapas joint at the other end of the terminal.
  
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{{
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====TAPAS BAR, TERMINAL 4, MADRID BARAJAS AIRPORT====
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#display_map: 46.21043, 6.15375 ; 32.05611, 34.78111
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| service=openlayers
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Najwa is having a cazuelita con patatas, huevos y jamon serrano along with a glass of red wine at the tapas bar. She scrolls trough her Skype contacts on her iPad but no luck with Alexander. Yama pops up online. She pings her.
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| layers=osm-mapnik, osm-cyclemap
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-MY TURN TO BE IN AN AIRPORT ;)
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}}
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 +
A few seconds later...
 +
 
 +
-WAY
 +
 
 +
-MADRID... ON MY WAY TO CUBA.
 +
 
 +
-LUCKY YOU, IT'S FREEZING HERE. WHICH RESORT?
 +
 
 +
-MEETING MY BF IN HAVANA. HE'S ON A BIZ TRIP THERE. WE'LL STICK AROUND FOR XMASS.
 +
 
 +
-I LOVE HAVANA.
 +
 
 +
-I THOUGH YOU GUYS COULDN'T GO THERE.
 +
 
 +
-OF COURSE WE CAN. AMERICANS CAN'T. FOR US IT'S LIKE CHEAP ESCAPE FROM A LONG WINTER. THERE'S LIKE AT LEAST THREE FLIGHTS A DAY.
 +
 
 +
-WOW.
 +
 
 +
-ANYWAYS, SORRY FOR BEING BLUNT YESTERDAY. I WAS STILL UNDER SHOCK FROM THIS WHOLE THING AND YOU POPPING OUT OF NOWHERE SEEMED KINDA SKETCHY.
 +
 
 +
-NO. IT'S ALL RIGHT. ANYWAYS. SO WHAT'S YOU'RE TAKE ON THE WHOLE THING? DID YOU NOTICE ANYTHING STRANGE ABOUT HIM BEFORE HE DISAPPEARED?
 +
 
 +
Yama hesitates to divulge more but still feels the urge to get it off her chest.
 +
 
 +
WELL THERE WAS THIS GIRL WHO APPEARED ON SITE A COUPLE OF DAYS BEFORE...I DON'T KNOW... I FEEL KIND OF FUNNY TELLING YOU THIS.
 +
 
 +
WHY?
 +
 
 +
I'D FEEL BETTER IF WE WERE FACE TO FACE. YOU SHOULD COME TO MONTREAL ONE DAY. WAIT FOR SPRING THOUGH...
 +
 
 +
Najwa is pensive, looking at people around her, running in circle.
 +
 
 +
MAYBE I WILL.
 +
 
 +
Alexander pops up on online...
 +
 
 +
SORRY BABY, I WAS AWAY. YOU IN MADRID? GET ON VIDEO IF YOU CAN..
 +
 
 +
HOLD ON LET ME SAY BYE TO MY FRIEND...
 +
 
 +
Najwa switches conversation.
 +
 
 +
YAMA, MY BF JUST GOT ONLINE. GOTTA HOOK UP WITH HIM.
 +
 
 +
NOT A PROBLEM... SORRY I WASN'T OF MUCH HELP.
 +
 
 +
Najwa accepts Alexander's [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_call video call]. His face pops on her screen.
 +
 
 +
-HI BABY. ARE YOU IN MADRID?
 +
 
 +
-YES, I GOT 4 HOURS TO KILL. HOW ARE YOU?
 +
 
 +
-OK... JUST GOT IN YESTERDAY. MY APPOINTMENT GOT POSTPONED TILL TOMORROW SO I'VE GOT TIME TO KILL AS WELL. TOO BAD YOU'RE NOT HERE YET. COULD HAVE SHOWED YOU AROUND. NOTHING HAS CHANGED HERE.
 +
 
 +
-YOU'LL SHOW ME AROUND TOMORROW. DON'T WORRY.
 +
 
 +
Najwa hear knocks on Alexander's door who doesn't react, as if he hadn't heard to knocks. Then after a pause, noticing that Najwa must have heard, he reacts.
 +
 
 +
-HOLD ON GOTTA GO CHECK THE DOOR.
 +
 
 +
Najwa, interjects before Alexander presses on pause.
 +
 
 +
-NO, BYE, I'M LOGGING OUT. SEE YOU THERE TONIGHT.
  
 +
The knocking on the door is repeated. Alexander looks nervous.
  
−
====NIGHT, CENTRAL BUS STATION, TEL AVIV, ISRAEL====
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-OK BABY. I LOVE YOU.
  
−
The head-beams of the Tel-Aviv bound bus from Jerusalem illuminates the glowing paint from a freshly tagged swastika on the pillars supporting the elevated highway. On the sidewalk below, an African man wearing a colorful [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fula_people Fulbe] robe stretches a three square meters cloth on which he lays out an assortments of fake Gucci sunglasses and Louis Vuitton handbags. After stopping his bus, the driver opens its side trunks and drops bags and suitcases by the street vendor's display as passengers disembark. First thrilled by the spontaneous crowd, the African man, grows nervous as passengers rush around the bus' trunks, stepping over his merchandise and getting confused when sorting out their luggage amongst the fake LVs. As passengers dissipates and the bus leaves, the man counts his units and re-arranges his layout. [[Peter|Peter Elliott]], the last passenger to have disembarked, fixes a daisy at his buttonhole, smiles at the African man and walks away.
+
Alexander's face disappear from Najwa's screen. She stares at it then notices that Yama is also on Skype now. She hesitates but doesn't contact her. She stares back at the crowd of people walking around the airport, looks back at her screen, opens [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Momondo Momondo's travel search engine] and types '''Madrid-Montreal-Havana''' in the multiple destinations boxes.
  
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From across the street, a teenager purposely throws his cigarette butt which lands on the vendor's cloth. The African man, quickly removes the lit cigarette but still notices a hole in the material. He looks up to now see four teenagers wearing Doc Martins boots at the foot of his display. He addresses them in elementary Hebrew but they reply in Russian.
+
====CAFE NEVE, MONTREAL, CANADA====
  
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-Why did you do this? You burnt a hole ''man''.
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[[Yama]] walks into the cafe and scouts the room looking for a 30 something woman amongst dozens of [http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/WiFier WiFiers]. She notices the stare of a woman wearing a scarf at the tip of her chignon and walks up to her.
  
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The Russians look at each other as one tries on a pair of sunglasses.
+
-Najwa?
  
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-Sorry, ''man'', I thought this was trash.
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-Yes, Yama! responds Najwa as she stands up to greet her. Please sit... Would you like something? I think that they only serve at the counter.
  
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The Russian then grabs three other pairs of glasses and hands one each to his buddies.
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Yama hangs her bag on the chair and follows Najwa who leads her to the counter.
  
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-Anyways, what are you doing here, ''man''... can't you see the sign, gesturing towards the painted swastika. This means no niggers.
+
-Wow, what a surprise when I got your message. When did you get here? asks Yama.
  
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The African man looks around to assess how isolated he is from other vendors or passers-by and judging that he'll have to deal with the situation on his own, he folds his cloth without even packing anything first. The Russians laugh out loudly as he walks away carrying his pouch over his shoulder.
+
-Last night. When I realized I could transit through Canada to go to Havana, I thought it'd be a great way to meet you. How have you been?
  
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-That's it ''man'', climb back up your tree.
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-What can I get you? asks the man behind the counter.
  
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====SUB-COMMITTEE ON EUROPEAN DIASPORA, KNESSET, JERUSALEM, ISRAEL====
+
-Hmmm... Hesitates Yama.
  
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[[File:EarlyIndoEuropeanMigrations.png|thumb|right|480px|R1a1a expansion]]
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-The coffee's great, claims Najwa.
  
−
Israel's Minister of Diaspora addresses members of the select sub-committee on European Diaspora in the wake of the publication of a new study led by Dr. O. Landese from the University of Geneva's Department of Genetics & Evolution. The new study about the peopling of Europe confirms key findings from another recent study which had been widely debated in Zionist, anti-Zionist, scientific and pseudo-scientific circles around the globe.
+
-Ok. I'll have a latte then.
  
−
The main committee, which was dealing with the growing dissatisfaction regarding the [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Law_of_return Law of Return] coming from Sephardi community groups supporting the case of a Colombian man who was refused the [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_of_return right of return] and Israeli citizenship. The man, whose mother was a Christian of Native American origins could not unequivocally demonstrate that his late father was Jewish although the lineage was clear for Sephardi experts.
+
-Medium, large? asks the man behind the counter.
  
−
The combination of the two events in the midst of growing racism in Israel led to the government's establishment of the sub-committee.
+
-Small. Please.
  
−
====CHANEL 10 TELEVISION STUDIO, TEL-AVIV====
+
-I'll have the same, continues Najwa.
  
−
Ultra-Nationalist Knesset member Baruch Dershowitz is the guest of a news program along with Noam ben Hammou the leader of a left leaning Sephardi community group.
+
====CAFE NEVE, MONTREAL, LATER====
  
−
Baruch Dershowitz accuses Noam ben Hammou of helping the propagation of anti-Semitic arguments. Ben Hammou responds, with a sardonic smile.
+
The two women have moved to a counter facing a window where they can speak privately. Najwa tries to get a grasp on how Dmitriev disappeared.
  
−
NBH -Well, actually, right to the contrary, we are advocating for pro-Semitic policies to balance out the disproportionally high percentage of Europeans making Aliyah. The man we're representing, maybe of a Native North-American matrilineage and of Christian faith, but it is clear, through the DNA tests we've conducted, that his patrilineal heritage has deep roots in the our region.
+
-And this girl, Rachel, she just popped out of nowhere to interview him?
  
−
BD -Deep roots in the region mean nothing. We cannot start to genetically select who we accept and who we don't. The process in place has worked for over sixty years. The claimant has to demonstrate both undeniable family roots and a basic knowledge of the precepts of Judaism. In this case, the claimant failed both tests.
+
-Yes. Well first she approached me I guess as she figured I was Canadian and all. She saids she was a journalist and was working on an article about Russia for a travel magazine. I thought she was some kind of [http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/blogger blogger] drifting around... We went out with friends from the University and she mingled in easily. The guy I was with thought she was odd though....
  
−
NBH -But you have to remember that this man, Mr. Diaz, lost his father at a very young age, an was then raised by a Catholic mother in a deeply religious environment. How could he possibly know any of the precepts of Judaism. He came here in search of his roots and we're just sending him back because he doesn't fit the profile. The Law of Return was drafted as you mention quite rightly, for once, after World War 2 to handle the exodus of European Jews and the peopling of our country. Now that this has been achieved, what we're advocating is for a revision of the law to open up our society to Jews from other horizons who might not fit the post war model.
+
-You had a boyfriend there?
  
−
BD -What you are asking, is for the government to launch a policy of [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Affirmative_action_in_the_United_States affirmative action], which as a matter of fact, and many studies demonstrated this, has been proven inefficient in the United States.
+
-Yeah... I met this Engineering student soon after I got there... Not my type at first but he was kinda cute.
  
−
NBH -It's quite a paradox that you'd use affirmative action as an example when that is exactly what we've been doing since the first Aliyahs.
+
-My boyfriend is Russian too, saids Najwa smiling.
  
−
====HILTON TEL AVIV====
+
-Anyways, so a couple of days later she asked me if she could accompany me on the the site, the excavation site. And that's where she completely changed and got into this full cat-woman mode and virtually hypnotized the man.
  
−
The broadcast continues in Peter Elliott's hotel room.
+
-Your boyfriend?
  
−
BD -First Aliyah was in great number comprised of Yemeni Jews. Maybe you should revise your national history.
+
-No, Dmitriev... Well maybe she was flirting with him too, but it was clearly Dmitriev she was after.
  
−
NBH -Well, great number... that's debatable. But anyways that was before migrations were regulated from within.
+
-How did he react?
  
−
HOST -Gentlemen, I suggest, that we get back to our main debate and that both of you refrain from using historical arguments which might be difficult to grasp by some of our audience. So Mr. Ben Hammou. What changes do you suggest the government implement, and why?
+
-Well, he's kind of straight edged, you know. Like there's no way she would have found him attractive. And it's not like he's got money or power. He was just this plain Russian man.
  
−
Peter Elliott, walks out of the bathrooms, shuts the TV and cuts a flower from the bouquet sitting on a table. He sticks it in his buttonhole, double checks his appearance in the mirror in front of him and walks out of the room.
+
-Was he married?
  
−
====BAIN DES PAQUIS, GENEVA, SWITZERLAND====
+
-Not that we knew. But I think he was from Moscow so he might have had family there. But we never saw or heard of anyone.
  
−
A light [http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foehn Foehn] carries a hot breeze through the few tables set outside the cooperative restaurant on Geneva's Northern pier. [[ Oriana|Oriana Landese]]'s eyes are lightly shut as she's absorbing the early Spring sunlight. Her thoughts vacillate from her children to a prospective lover when she's pulled back to reality by a woman's voice.
+
-How old was he?
  
−
-Dr. Landese?
+
-Like 50 something...
  
−
Oriana raises her hand to block the blinding sun as the woman extends hers to introduce herself.
+
-And you never saw her again.
  
−
-[[Carla|Carla Xanthis]], Federal Department of Justice and Police.
+
-No... She vanished the same day he did.
  
−
====OFFICE, AVIHAYIL MOSHAV, ISRAEL====
+
-She didn't leave her e-mail or cell number to anyone.
  
−
Peter Elliott looks at old black & white photographs displayed on the wall when the Moshav's director walks in accompanied by a  woman in her late twenties.
+
-No she claimed her SIM didn't work in Russia, which is possible. Otherwise she just hooked up with us at this hang out joint near the campus.
  
−
-Peter Elliott, Royal Mail.
+
-Rachel what? Did she tell you her last name.
  
−
-Please to meet you... Please have a seat, answers the director as the woman displays a forced smiles.
+
-Bowie! Rachel Bowie.
  
−
The three sit around a basic conference table.
+
Yama is thoughtful then continues.
  
−
-We have read your emails and as we replied to your colleagues, so many people passed by the Moshav over the past eighty years that it would be quite difficult to track them all. We do have lists, but as I said, this name... Altaras... we did not find it. Did you inquire with the Ministry of Interior in Jerusalem?
+
-It didn't occurred to me that she might have been involved then, but now that I think about it...
  
−
-Yes we have, but it has proven to be a very tedious task. As I mentioned, [[Isabella's_letter_to_Anastasio|the letter]] dates back from 1944 when I understand the British Government was still... involved in the transition. We did check the files that have been brought back to London from the Mandate years, but the name [[Isabella|Isabella Altaras]] does not appear on any immigration lists.
+
====JOSE MARTI AIRPORT, HAVANA, CUBA====
  
−
-Well, most of the people who landed in Moshavs came from Aliyah Bet.
+
[[Alexander]] drops Najwa's hand luggage on the back seat of a 1965 Land Rover before opening her the passenger door. He kisses her as he gets behind the wheel.
  
−
-Aliyah Bet?
+
-So? Did you find him?
  
−
-Immigration not recorded by the British.
+
Najwa looks at Alexander and poses for a few seconds.
  
−
-Right, so this is exactly why I'm here. I was told that we'd have more success by coming directly to the source. As you might know, elections are next month in Britain and what is likely to be our new government has plans to privatize the Royal Mail. If we finally deliver this letter, this will mean that all two hundred and forty four letters recovered from the Indian Ocean's wreck will have been delivered. Sixty-five or so years later but still, delivered. You can understand the positive publicity that this would bring to the Royal Mail ahead of the commission.
+
-You've got some memory. Or you're spying on me.
  
−
-Which commission?
+
-Both, answers Alexander as he kisses her again.
  
−
-The privatization commission.
+
-No... I didn't...
  
−
-So you are here to save the Royal Mail, not because you really care about this letter.
+
====STREETS OF MONTREAL, THE PREVIOUS DAY====
  
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-We wish to save the Royal Mail in order continue to provide an impeccable service and make sure that letters like this one... get delivered... eventually.
+
Najwa and Yama walk out of the cafe where they spent the afternoon as night falls on a cold wintry evening. Yama zips up her jacket.
  
−
-You are a persevering man, Mr. Elliott. Deanna here, our newest moshavnik, will assist you in your research. She just arrived from New York and sorting out the archives was on her to do list.
+
-You're not too cold, coming from Dubai?
  
−
The young woman approaches and extends her hand towards Peter.
+
-Yes, very cold... But I grew up in Hungary and traveled to northern places. So it's not like I've never seen snow. But I reckon this is the coldest I ever felt.
  
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-Deanna Sadykova, pleased to meet you.
+
-Keep moving and after a while, you'll get used to it.
  
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-Very pleased as well, and extending his hand to the director. Thank you for your understanding.
+
-I will thanks.
  
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====LEMON GROVE, AVIHAYIL MOSHAV====
+
-Well, this is my bus stop. It was very nice to meet you in person Najwa. I guess we'll stay in touch.
  
−
Deanna and Peter drive an electric golf cart through a lemon grove on their way to the Moshav's old administrative building.
+
-Yes definitely, I'd like that...
  
−
-So which part of New York City are you from?
+
-Sherbrooke street is about five or six blocks this way, saids Yama pointing south.
  
−
-Brooklyn. Have you been there?
+
-Cool, thanks again for meeting with me.
  
−
-I haven't gone back to New York since the eighties... I understand that Brooklyn was not as hip then. But no, I don't remember visiting.
+
Yama smiles and kneels towards Najwa to kiss her goodbye.
  
−
-Well, I don't know about the eighties, but it's now the only place one could afford. Unless you work on Wall Street.
+
====BOULEVARD SAINT-LAURENT, MONTREAL====
  
−
-Are you still a student?
+
Najwa walks down Montreal's boulevard Saint-Laurent. Her sneakers crunching over the packed snow.
  
−
-No, I work in the fashion business.
+
[[File:BlvdStLaurentFrag.jpg|thumb|right|480px|Boulevard Saint-Laurent historical board]]
  
−
-Oh, you're a model?
+
She notices boards posted on various buildings recounting the city's history. Some written in English but most in French. She reads the story of a [[La_Voie_de_l%27ange#Mardi_1er_juin_1948|Jewish couple]] who emigrated to Canada from Europe after the Second World War.
  
−
-No, I work behind the camera.
+
She thinks of Anne, her imaginary alter-ego, who could have well landed here instead of in Buenos Aires. She thinks of her father of whom she knows nothing, except that he was named [[Axel]], that he spoke French and that he bore an '''[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anarchism A]''' tattooed on his arm.
  
−
They drive by an old lady sitting in the shade, under a lemon tree, looking at them pass by.
+
Najwa continues her stroll down [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Laurent_Boulevard The Main], looking at snowflakes falling in front of street lights. Every man in his mid forties could be him. He was seventeen when he met her mother in Berlin. Is he dead. Is he here. Does he know. What would happened if they'd met?
  
−
-And what brought you here, if it's not too indiscreet for me to ask?
+
In the street, most women wear a hat or a scarf, hiding part of their head. This time she doesn't stand out. In the middle of the street, a bike messenger riding against the traffic jumps on the sidewalk right besides her, missing her by inches. How can he ride with all this snow?
  
−
Deanna stays silent as she looks at the old lady, then answers.
+
====BOOKSTORE, BOULEVARD SAINT-LAURENT, MONTREAL====
  
−
-Love... Or lovelessness I should say.
+
Najwa stares at the window of a bookstore. Could one day her own book be amongst those displayed. Christmas music echoes through the street, reminding her of her childhood in Budapest. The bike messenger whom she saw earlier exits the bookstore and smiles at her.
  
−
-Oh, I'm sorry. Sorry to hear this and I hope that you will find what you're looking for here.
+
-I'm sorry if I surprised you before. I had to make it before the store would close, saids the messenger in French as an employee locks the store from inside.
  
−
-Let's start by finding what you're looking for... Then we'll worry about my shit.
+
-It's okay, I slipped but didn't fall, answers Najwa smiling back.
  
−
====PONT DES BERGUES, GENEVA====
+
He kneels down to unlock his bike.
  
−
Carla and Oriana walk across the pedestrian bridge.
+
-You should get boots! That's where you get cold from.
  
−
-Sorry to lead you further away from the station, but my class starts in 15 minutes.
+
-Yes, I'm starting to feel that... How do you manage to ride in the snow?
  
−
-That's OK. I'm sorry if this all sounds a little crazy and confusing.
+
-Experience, saids the messenger laughing. Plus I have studs on my front wheel.
  
−
-My work is all about sorting out crazy and confusing stuff. To try at least.
+
-You're like Mad Max!
  
−
-And what about the political ramifications of your findings.
+
The messenger looks back at her in silence... then continues.
  
−
-One theory can always be proven wrong by another. Who knows if all our findings are going to be proven wrong by my students, 20 years down the line.
+
-That's my name. No jokes. My name is Max.
  
−
-And while you were moving ahead, you never felt any outside interference?
+
Najwa extends her hand.
  
−
-No... Not that I'm aware of. But you know, I'm not the best at sensing what's happening around me. I'm kind of a focused person. Not sure about that sixth sense.
+
-Nice to meet you, I'm Najwa.
  
−
-One last thing, before I head back to the station to catch my train... and let you get to your class.
+
[[Max]] pulls his orange leather gloves to shake her hand.
  
−
Carla pulls out her phone and loads a head-shot of [[Uri]].
+
-Could I offer you a coffee or something to make up for nearly hitting you with my bike on the sidewalk?
  
−
-Have you ever seen this man?
+
-Don't you have to rush for another delivery?
  
−
====OLD ADMINISTRATIVE BUILDING, AVIHAYIL MOSHAV====
+
-No, this was my last one. Businesses close at 6.
  
−
Peter has abandoned his suit and rolled up his sleeves to help Deanna lower dozens of wooden citrus boxes filled with yellowed documents. Each box is identified by sequences of three letter codes written next to words which appear to be German.
+
-Oh, well I actually just had two coffees... But I wouldn't mind warming up for a few minutes.
  
−
-Can you read this?
+
-I don't drink coffee either. Tea, water and booze!
  
−
-Nope, English only.
+
-Tea would be good.
  
−
-Well, at least we should be grateful that the filing was organized by Germans.
+
====HOTEL NACIONAL, HAVANA, CUBA====
  
−
From the top of the ladder, Deanna looks down at Peter who just realized the dubiousness of his observation, given the context.
+
Alexander parks the Land Rover at the front entrance of the Hotel Nacional where an attendant takes his keys. Najwa walks across the hall into the garden followed by Alexander.
  
−
-Maybe this came out wrong...
+
-You want to go to the room first or have a drink here?
  
−
Later
+
-We can stay here... I'll have a fresh orange juice if they have.
  
−
As Peter sorts through hundreds of ledgers recording production, stocks and sales of lemons, Deanna uses her laptop's wifi connection to translate the heading on each box.
+
-Right on.
  
−
-BEWOHNER... Residents... That should be it. These four boxes here.
+
A waiter arrives at their table.
  
−
Later
+
-Buenas tardes...
  
−
Hundreds of files are piled up on the floor. Deanna puts down the last file on the last pile.
+
-Buenas tardes. Un jugo de naraja para la segnora i un run doble, asks Alexander in rough Spanish with a strong Russian accent.
  
−
-Do you want us to go over them one last time?
+
-Anejo? asks the waiter.
  
−
-No, I guess it's not here. We checked 1939 to 1950. She either never lived here officially or she changed names.
+
Alexander looks at him perplex.
  
−
-Well, she would have changed her last name if she got married but why would she change the first name?
+
-El run... Old... Siete anos?
  
−
-Maybe she was running away?
+
-A si, por favor, replies Alexander.
  
−
-Yet she wrote a letter with a return address on the envelope.
+
Najwa turns towards Alexander as the waiter leaves.
  
−
====LEMON GROVE, AVIHAYIL MOSHAV====
+
-Wow, I hear you've practiced.
  
−
Deanna and Peter walk out of the old administrative building to find the golf cart gone.
+
-I was briefly stationed here in 1992.
  
−
-Someone stole the cart!
+
-That's where you learned to dance? replies Najwa smiling.
  
−
-It's for anyone to use.
+
Moments later.
  
−
-Oh, this place is like a commune!
+
Najwa is sipping on her orange juice as Alexander has finished his rum.
  
−
They walk across the lemon grove, empty handed, back to the Moshav's main entrance. The old lady is still sitting at a chair under a tree. She seems half awake. Deanna smiles at her anyways. The old lady murmurs something in Russian.
+
-You know I can find him for you if you wish.
  
−
-You're the new Russian girl?
+
-No... Please... I'd rather not. I'm not sure I want to meet him. Not sure if I'd have something to say. If I'd be disappointed. If he'd be disappointed... I'd rather leave it to faith.
  
−
Deanna stops and look at the old lady, then hesitantly answers in Russian.
+
-Inshallah... saids Alexander looking at the waiter as he realizes his glass is empty.
  
−
-Yes...
+
-Inshallah... replies Najwa.
  
−
-And this is the Englishman?
+
-Yet you pushed you're luck by traveling to Canada.
  
−
-Yes, Peter, from London, and I'm Deanna, she says in broken Russian
+
-I wanted to meet this student related to the Caspian Sea incident.
  
−
The old lady nods.
+
-And, how was that?
  
−
-No one remembers here and you will never find anything in these boxes, but there was a young Italian woman who lived here for a few days, maybe a month. One day [[Bonnie_%26_Clyde#SIDE_OF_THE_ROAD_TO_AVIHAYIL.2C_PALESTINE_.28LATER.29|she disappeared]] and no one ever heard back from her... The British soldiers and the police came to look for her several times. That I remember. But as far as I know... They never found her... I was only around ten then, not more than twelve, but I remember her very well. Isabella. She was beautiful. She came in one day with an Arab boy who was just a little older than me. He stayed until the war of independence. Then he had to go too. [[Yasser]]. I had a crush on him.
+
-Okay, I guess. We had coffee. It was nice, saids Najwa absently.
  
−
Deanna kneels down in front of the old lady and holds her hand.
+
Alexander senses that Najwa is not in a talking mood and pulls back his chair to stand up.
  
−
-And know one else knows about her?
+
-I'm gonna go take a shower. Remember we're going to my friend's house tonight.
  
−
-Here no. I'm the only one that stayed. Everyone else is long gone or dead.
+
-Right. What time is it?
  
−
-So she would have been around how old then?
+
-5, answers Alexander looking at his phone.
  
−
-Oh. How could I know. She was a lady already, but not married I guess. Maybe she was twenty.
+
-Okay, I'll finish my juice and I'll meet you. What's our room?
  
−
Deanna looks up at Peter who's looking at both of them, not getting it but having recognized the word ''Isabella'' mixed in the Russian conversation.
+
-535, 5th floor. Here...
  
−
-She remembers her. She claims that she only stayed here a few days, a month at most and that when she disappeared, the police kept coming looking for her. You were right, she was running away from something.
+
Alexander pulls a key card from his wallet and hands it to Najwa who smiles at him.
  
−
-Well, at least we have a lead. Our only lead but at least a lead.
+
-I'll see you in a minute.
  
−
The old lady pulls back on Deanna's hand.
+
Najwa stares back at the sea as Alexander walks away.
  
−
-What's in the letter? Did you read it?
+
====MAX'S LOFT, FACING THE SAINT-LAURENT RIVER, MONTREAL, THE PREVIOUS DAY====
  
−
-What is she saying?
+
Large windows span the width of the sparsely furnished loft. Najwa stares at a boat sailing through ice patches floating down the river. Max hits shuffle on his track list. [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hope_%28R.E.M._song%29 Hope] by R.E.M. starts playing. The port flood-spots back-light Najwa silhouette as she slowly unties her hijab. The kettle whistles in the background. Max, not knowing how to react to the rapidly unfolding events, attends to the tea preparation.
  
−
-If I read the letter.
+
-Here you go. Oolong from China... and oranges from god knows where, saids Max as he places the tray on a flipped wooden fruit box in the living area.
  
−
-Of course not. That's the whole purpose of my trip. To deliver it still sealed.
+
Najwa approaches and sits on the torn leather sofa. Max kneel on his knees to serve the tea.
  
 +
-So... are you a student?
  
 +
Najwa smiles at Max and places her palm on the spot next to her.
  
 +
-Come...
  
−
[[S1E11|<< PREVIOUS EPISODE]] - [[Cannaregio 1943|NEXT EPISODE >>]]
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[[Down the Pipe|<< PREVIOUS EPISODE]] - [[The Last Khazar|NEXT EPISODE >>]]
  
 
[[Category:Episodes]]
 
[[Category:Episodes]]
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[[Category:The Venetian Cell|1.012]]
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[[Category:The Passengers|2.012]]
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[[Category:Follow the Money|1.012]]
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[[Category:The Clan|2.012]]
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[[Category: The Age of Nujood (2010- )]]
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[[Category:The Age of Nujood (2010- )]]

Latest revision as of 17:05, 22 December 2023

Two foreign students, Rachel and Yama, both with ties to the missing archaeologist, leave Russia after his disappearance. Najwa, who finds out about the story, decides to dig in as part of her research for LVA. Thinking that she could trace AF's Jewish origins to the Middle Age, Najwa stumbles onto her own past as she transit through Montreal, her father's birth city.

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MADRID BARAJAS AIRPORT

Madrid Bajaras Terminal 4

Najwa walks out of Emirates flight 141 into Terminal 4 of Madrid's airport. Looking at the departures board, she notices that Iberia flight 6621 to Havana is only scheduled for 17:00. She's got 4 hours to kill. She loafs through the terminal admiring the wavy wooden roof. She's hungry. A man at a coffee stand suggests she tries a tapas joint at the other end of the terminal.

TAPAS BAR, TERMINAL 4, MADRID BARAJAS AIRPORT

Najwa is having a cazuelita con patatas, huevos y jamon serrano along with a glass of red wine at the tapas bar. She scrolls trough her Skype contacts on her iPad but no luck with Alexander. Yama pops up online. She pings her.

-MY TURN TO BE IN AN AIRPORT ;)

A few seconds later...

-WAY

-MADRID... ON MY WAY TO CUBA.

-LUCKY YOU, IT'S FREEZING HERE. WHICH RESORT?

-MEETING MY BF IN HAVANA. HE'S ON A BIZ TRIP THERE. WE'LL STICK AROUND FOR XMASS.

-I LOVE HAVANA.

-I THOUGH YOU GUYS COULDN'T GO THERE.

-OF COURSE WE CAN. AMERICANS CAN'T. FOR US IT'S LIKE CHEAP ESCAPE FROM A LONG WINTER. THERE'S LIKE AT LEAST THREE FLIGHTS A DAY.

-WOW.

-ANYWAYS, SORRY FOR BEING BLUNT YESTERDAY. I WAS STILL UNDER SHOCK FROM THIS WHOLE THING AND YOU POPPING OUT OF NOWHERE SEEMED KINDA SKETCHY.

-NO. IT'S ALL RIGHT. ANYWAYS. SO WHAT'S YOU'RE TAKE ON THE WHOLE THING? DID YOU NOTICE ANYTHING STRANGE ABOUT HIM BEFORE HE DISAPPEARED?

Yama hesitates to divulge more but still feels the urge to get it off her chest.

WELL THERE WAS THIS GIRL WHO APPEARED ON SITE A COUPLE OF DAYS BEFORE...I DON'T KNOW... I FEEL KIND OF FUNNY TELLING YOU THIS.

WHY?

I'D FEEL BETTER IF WE WERE FACE TO FACE. YOU SHOULD COME TO MONTREAL ONE DAY. WAIT FOR SPRING THOUGH...

Najwa is pensive, looking at people around her, running in circle.

MAYBE I WILL.

Alexander pops up on online...

SORRY BABY, I WAS AWAY. YOU IN MADRID? GET ON VIDEO IF YOU CAN..

HOLD ON LET ME SAY BYE TO MY FRIEND...

Najwa switches conversation.

YAMA, MY BF JUST GOT ONLINE. GOTTA HOOK UP WITH HIM.

NOT A PROBLEM... SORRY I WASN'T OF MUCH HELP.

Najwa accepts Alexander's video call. His face pops on her screen.

-HI BABY. ARE YOU IN MADRID?

-YES, I GOT 4 HOURS TO KILL. HOW ARE YOU?

-OK... JUST GOT IN YESTERDAY. MY APPOINTMENT GOT POSTPONED TILL TOMORROW SO I'VE GOT TIME TO KILL AS WELL. TOO BAD YOU'RE NOT HERE YET. COULD HAVE SHOWED YOU AROUND. NOTHING HAS CHANGED HERE.

-YOU'LL SHOW ME AROUND TOMORROW. DON'T WORRY.

Najwa hear knocks on Alexander's door who doesn't react, as if he hadn't heard to knocks. Then after a pause, noticing that Najwa must have heard, he reacts.

-HOLD ON GOTTA GO CHECK THE DOOR.

Najwa, interjects before Alexander presses on pause.

-NO, BYE, I'M LOGGING OUT. SEE YOU THERE TONIGHT.

The knocking on the door is repeated. Alexander looks nervous.

-OK BABY. I LOVE YOU.

Alexander's face disappear from Najwa's screen. She stares at it then notices that Yama is also on Skype now. She hesitates but doesn't contact her. She stares back at the crowd of people walking around the airport, looks back at her screen, opens Momondo's travel search engine and types Madrid-Montreal-Havana in the multiple destinations boxes.

CAFE NEVE, MONTREAL, CANADA

Yama walks into the cafe and scouts the room looking for a 30 something woman amongst dozens of WiFiers. She notices the stare of a woman wearing a scarf at the tip of her chignon and walks up to her.

-Najwa?

-Yes, Yama! responds Najwa as she stands up to greet her. Please sit... Would you like something? I think that they only serve at the counter.

Yama hangs her bag on the chair and follows Najwa who leads her to the counter.

-Wow, what a surprise when I got your message. When did you get here? asks Yama.

-Last night. When I realized I could transit through Canada to go to Havana, I thought it'd be a great way to meet you. How have you been?

-What can I get you? asks the man behind the counter.

-Hmmm... Hesitates Yama.

-The coffee's great, claims Najwa.

-Ok. I'll have a latte then.

-Medium, large? asks the man behind the counter.

-Small. Please.

-I'll have the same, continues Najwa.

CAFE NEVE, MONTREAL, LATER

The two women have moved to a counter facing a window where they can speak privately. Najwa tries to get a grasp on how Dmitriev disappeared.

-And this girl, Rachel, she just popped out of nowhere to interview him?

-Yes. Well first she approached me I guess as she figured I was Canadian and all. She saids she was a journalist and was working on an article about Russia for a travel magazine. I thought she was some kind of blogger drifting around... We went out with friends from the University and she mingled in easily. The guy I was with thought she was odd though....

-You had a boyfriend there?

-Yeah... I met this Engineering student soon after I got there... Not my type at first but he was kinda cute.

-My boyfriend is Russian too, saids Najwa smiling.

-Anyways, so a couple of days later she asked me if she could accompany me on the the site, the excavation site. And that's where she completely changed and got into this full cat-woman mode and virtually hypnotized the man.

-Your boyfriend?

-No, Dmitriev... Well maybe she was flirting with him too, but it was clearly Dmitriev she was after.

-How did he react?

-Well, he's kind of straight edged, you know. Like there's no way she would have found him attractive. And it's not like he's got money or power. He was just this plain Russian man.

-Was he married?

-Not that we knew. But I think he was from Moscow so he might have had family there. But we never saw or heard of anyone.

-How old was he?

-Like 50 something...

-And you never saw her again.

-No... She vanished the same day he did.

-She didn't leave her e-mail or cell number to anyone.

-No she claimed her SIM didn't work in Russia, which is possible. Otherwise she just hooked up with us at this hang out joint near the campus.

-Rachel what? Did she tell you her last name.

-Bowie! Rachel Bowie.

Yama is thoughtful then continues.

-It didn't occurred to me that she might have been involved then, but now that I think about it...

JOSE MARTI AIRPORT, HAVANA, CUBA

Alexander drops Najwa's hand luggage on the back seat of a 1965 Land Rover before opening her the passenger door. He kisses her as he gets behind the wheel.

-So? Did you find him?

Najwa looks at Alexander and poses for a few seconds.

-You've got some memory. Or you're spying on me.

-Both, answers Alexander as he kisses her again.

-No... I didn't...

STREETS OF MONTREAL, THE PREVIOUS DAY

Najwa and Yama walk out of the cafe where they spent the afternoon as night falls on a cold wintry evening. Yama zips up her jacket.

-You're not too cold, coming from Dubai?

-Yes, very cold... But I grew up in Hungary and traveled to northern places. So it's not like I've never seen snow. But I reckon this is the coldest I ever felt.

-Keep moving and after a while, you'll get used to it.

-I will thanks.

-Well, this is my bus stop. It was very nice to meet you in person Najwa. I guess we'll stay in touch.

-Yes definitely, I'd like that...

-Sherbrooke street is about five or six blocks this way, saids Yama pointing south.

-Cool, thanks again for meeting with me.

Yama smiles and kneels towards Najwa to kiss her goodbye.

BOULEVARD SAINT-LAURENT, MONTREAL

Najwa walks down Montreal's boulevard Saint-Laurent. Her sneakers crunching over the packed snow.

Boulevard Saint-Laurent historical board

She notices boards posted on various buildings recounting the city's history. Some written in English but most in French. She reads the story of a Jewish couple who emigrated to Canada from Europe after the Second World War.

She thinks of Anne, her imaginary alter-ego, who could have well landed here instead of in Buenos Aires. She thinks of her father of whom she knows nothing, except that he was named Axel, that he spoke French and that he bore an A tattooed on his arm.

Najwa continues her stroll down The Main, looking at snowflakes falling in front of street lights. Every man in his mid forties could be him. He was seventeen when he met her mother in Berlin. Is he dead. Is he here. Does he know. What would happened if they'd met?

In the street, most women wear a hat or a scarf, hiding part of their head. This time she doesn't stand out. In the middle of the street, a bike messenger riding against the traffic jumps on the sidewalk right besides her, missing her by inches. How can he ride with all this snow?

BOOKSTORE, BOULEVARD SAINT-LAURENT, MONTREAL

Najwa stares at the window of a bookstore. Could one day her own book be amongst those displayed. Christmas music echoes through the street, reminding her of her childhood in Budapest. The bike messenger whom she saw earlier exits the bookstore and smiles at her.

-I'm sorry if I surprised you before. I had to make it before the store would close, saids the messenger in French as an employee locks the store from inside.

-It's okay, I slipped but didn't fall, answers Najwa smiling back.

He kneels down to unlock his bike.

-You should get boots! That's where you get cold from.

-Yes, I'm starting to feel that... How do you manage to ride in the snow?

-Experience, saids the messenger laughing. Plus I have studs on my front wheel.

-You're like Mad Max!

The messenger looks back at her in silence... then continues.

-That's my name. No jokes. My name is Max.

Najwa extends her hand.

-Nice to meet you, I'm Najwa.

Max pulls his orange leather gloves to shake her hand.

-Could I offer you a coffee or something to make up for nearly hitting you with my bike on the sidewalk?

-Don't you have to rush for another delivery?

-No, this was my last one. Businesses close at 6.

-Oh, well I actually just had two coffees... But I wouldn't mind warming up for a few minutes.

-I don't drink coffee either. Tea, water and booze!

-Tea would be good.

HOTEL NACIONAL, HAVANA, CUBA

Alexander parks the Land Rover at the front entrance of the Hotel Nacional where an attendant takes his keys. Najwa walks across the hall into the garden followed by Alexander.

-You want to go to the room first or have a drink here?

-We can stay here... I'll have a fresh orange juice if they have.

-Right on.

A waiter arrives at their table.

-Buenas tardes...

-Buenas tardes. Un jugo de naraja para la segnora i un run doble, asks Alexander in rough Spanish with a strong Russian accent.

-Anejo? asks the waiter.

Alexander looks at him perplex.

-El run... Old... Siete anos?

-A si, por favor, replies Alexander.

Najwa turns towards Alexander as the waiter leaves.

-Wow, I hear you've practiced.

-I was briefly stationed here in 1992.

-That's where you learned to dance? replies Najwa smiling.

Moments later.

Najwa is sipping on her orange juice as Alexander has finished his rum.

-You know I can find him for you if you wish.

-No... Please... I'd rather not. I'm not sure I want to meet him. Not sure if I'd have something to say. If I'd be disappointed. If he'd be disappointed... I'd rather leave it to faith.

-Inshallah... saids Alexander looking at the waiter as he realizes his glass is empty.

-Inshallah... replies Najwa.

-Yet you pushed you're luck by traveling to Canada.

-I wanted to meet this student related to the Caspian Sea incident.

-And, how was that?

-Okay, I guess. We had coffee. It was nice, saids Najwa absently.

Alexander senses that Najwa is not in a talking mood and pulls back his chair to stand up.

-I'm gonna go take a shower. Remember we're going to my friend's house tonight.

-Right. What time is it?

-5, answers Alexander looking at his phone.

-Okay, I'll finish my juice and I'll meet you. What's our room?

-535, 5th floor. Here...

Alexander pulls a key card from his wallet and hands it to Najwa who smiles at him.

-I'll see you in a minute.

Najwa stares back at the sea as Alexander walks away.

MAX'S LOFT, FACING THE SAINT-LAURENT RIVER, MONTREAL, THE PREVIOUS DAY

Large windows span the width of the sparsely furnished loft. Najwa stares at a boat sailing through ice patches floating down the river. Max hits shuffle on his track list. Hope by R.E.M. starts playing. The port flood-spots back-light Najwa silhouette as she slowly unties her hijab. The kettle whistles in the background. Max, not knowing how to react to the rapidly unfolding events, attends to the tea preparation.

-Here you go. Oolong from China... and oranges from god knows where, saids Max as he places the tray on a flipped wooden fruit box in the living area.

Najwa approaches and sits on the torn leather sofa. Max kneel on his knees to serve the tea.

-So... are you a student?

Najwa smiles at Max and places her palm on the spot next to her.

-Come...

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