Imagine if they had started when they said they would. Of all the different building projects put up lickety-split in our part of Ma’ale Adumim when the city was nothing but a collection of barren hills, by far – with no fear of competition – the worst, the ugliest, the ones that have most been defeated by the passage of time, are the buildings right across the parking lot from our own humble abode. They really need to do something with those buildings.

Within a few years of our moving in, a large sign was placed between the garbage bins and the mailboxes announcing that something would be done: panui u’banui (essentially, tear ‘em down, and build ‘em up), in which a contractor empties out a series of buildings, guts them, and uses the foundations for newer, larger structures.

This procedure has gone on all over Jerusalem, older three-story buildings turned into nicer six-story ones. Except that where we are, the contractor was intending to demolish these wretched dwelling places and put up twenty-story high-rises, which, as the years went by kept increasing in height – at least in theory. Because as the signs for the project were posted and were knocked over or were done in by the weather, nothing else happened. OK, the people and companies involved in the venture changed over the years, but that’s all. Some of our neighbors were in favor of the project, but most were opposed, not so much in principle but because of the over-reach of the project. Still, if the plan had been implemented, that might have been something for us to consider, a three-bedroom right across the way.

However, while this project was going nowhere, lots of other projects were slowly and steadily rising throughout the city. The biggest, in your face, you can see it from miles away, another fact-on-the-ground-with-a-capital-F, is a series of buildings smack dab in the center of town opposite the mall, two towers of 20+ stories and a series of smaller buildings of only (only?!) fifteen stories.

Even if real estate were not the topic du jour, I’m convinced Barbara would have found her way to a sales office to talk with someone about these buildings and come back with a glossy brochure containing a floor plan or two for us to consider. Very nice. Interior design in our part of the world seems to have taken a quantum leap forward since the era when they were dropping slabs of prefab concrete into place. When you’re looking at a well-thought-out floor plan nicely presented, you can dream a little and picture in your mind’s eye where you’d put your furniture. It sort of sells itself.

Not so fast. The building in question is supposed to be ready for occupancy in Oct. 2025. But this is Israel, where time flows at its own pace when it comes to building anything, but mortgage payments are due right on time. How would you arrange to sell your apartment and buy another when the closing date is a moving target? Plus, I don’t want to live by the mall. Too far away from where I want to be, from my friends, from the shul that puts up with me. Might as well be in another community, but I don’t want to be in another community. Let me make that very clear.

But that building project wasn’t the only game in town. There was another one, in a nearby gully, with a great view of a wall. We’ll pass on that one. But what about the construction down by the snake path?

If you walk down Hehalil St. to the overlook called Mitzpe Edna and head left, there is – well, there was – a winding path, the shortest way to the streets below (where our friends Ron and Esther and David and Bernice live). It probably doesn’t have any official name; none of these shortcuts do, but ‘snake path’ is what everyone called it.

Then it wasn’t there. The whole area was blocked off – meaning you’d have to go the long way around to go up and down, a decided nuisance – and there was a billboard announcing a building project, which took the usual forever to complete. We could easily track its progress from one of our upstairs windows, and we could certainly see how it was going while waiting for the bus at the stop around the corner. It seemed almost done – at least on the outside – when October rolled around, and then there was, shall we say, a delay. But by December, if you took the trouble to notice, there were a few Arab workers in their orange vests putting some seemingly finishing touches on the outsides of the buildings. And later on, I noticed a few cars in the parking lot and even a light or two in a few of the apartments.

One thing we had never noticed was a new sign with any information inviting inquiries about any of the apartments. Barbara had expressed interest in checking out this development, but it seemed to be a well-guarded secret. Maybe you had to know somebody who knew somebody, or else you were out in the cold.

But where there’s a will, there’s a way. Barbara happened to be passing by the project one day, when she spotted a random dude who looked like he might be ‘official.’ So she excused herself to the gent and obtained a phone number for the management company. She called, got directed to Liz, who directed her to Assaf, and that’s how, as someone I know described it on Facebook, ‘the fun began.’ Some fun. Was this to be the answer to our prayers or a financial nightmare waiting to unfold? Only one way to find out…