Seeing all the people from extremely different backgrounds converge in Jerusalem reminded me so much of the Star Wars prequals where the representatives from various star systems form an intergalactic congress. Each had such unique costumes exceeded in creativity only by the next that I'd see. In addition to the seeing the apparelled pilgrims, one experiences a kind of cultural whiplash while walking through Jerusalem; the invisible borders separating the sections (Muslim, Christian, Armenian, Jewish, etc) create a Twighlight Zone-like atmosphere where you find yourself having to keep reassessing your environs. "Wasn't I just among a bunch of Jewish kids playing soccer in front of a synagogue? Why are there now kids speaking Arabic and carrying prayer rugs?"
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My hotel is just north of the Old City, outside the city walls. It is on the east side, so predominantly Muslim (it's actually just a few blocks away from the Garden Tomb). I walked down the street toward the Old City to do some audio-guided tours and grabbed some bread thing to munch on.
It was pretty early in the morning, so folks were gathering their goods together for market. I thought they should've been singing "More Than This Provincial Life" from Beauty and the Beast, but in Arabic. Some men were in the long shirts, and most women wore hijabs. I turned the corner, and it was as though I walked onto a different Hollywood set: Young orthodox Jewish families walked about--the boys with buzzed summer haircuts under their skullcaps (except for long locks descending from the temples)--perhaps to get groceries in preparation for Shabbat.
I climbed the ramparts for a bird's-eye walking tour. I chuckled at one parts where the narrator said, "This section of the wall is the youngest. It was built only 500 years ago."
The city outside of the walls:
Kids, despite being from different ethnic groups, demonstrated the universal war play of shooting arrows or guns from the arrowslits.
The Dome of the Rock in view! Even though the gold plating is very thin, the dome is so massive that the amount of gold sums to be 84 kg! Some ruler of Jordan or Saudi Arabia sold an estate in London to pay for it.
My city walls walk took me near the Western Wall, so I detoured. The Western Wall is considered the hol(iest?) place in Judaism, as it is the only remaining wall from their Second Temple. It actually is like an outdoor synagogue, where men and women perform their (separated) prayers, they have bar mitzvahs, etc.
A young man must have completed an act of passage, because I saw he and a few older men walk to the divider and a few women reach over to hug and kiss the boy's head.
Prayers written on papers and stuffed between bricks:
The biggest mesuzah I have EVER seen, at the gate to the Western Wall:
I continued walking along the perimeter of the Old City and crossed back into the Muslim section. Just outside the city wall corner that the Dome of the Rock plaza is nestled into, is a graveyard for Muslims. Across the valley is a vast Jewish graveyard, who want to be buried there due to its proximity and the belief of where the Resurrection will begin.
Near the entrance back into the Old City (and exiting the Muslim cemetery) I saw a person-sized wooden box. Hmm... that looks suspiciously shaped...
As I was about to enter the gate, I heard the beeping of a backing up van. Suddenly the back doors opened and several men materialized as coffin-bearers and a filled box exited the van.
I followed the procession inside and joined in the throng of Islam adherents who walked toward the Dome. But an Israeli soldier stopped me, saying that the plaza was closed today to non-Muslims. The stream of folks carrying prayer rugs were advancing for their religious services. I hung back and got the rare opportunity to be a fly on the wall. Hunkered up in front of a column, I observed daily life of these folks: the young boy walking around with a toy gun, the woman giving back the extra shekel given in accidental change to the boy who sold her a water bottle, the young woman petitioning passer-bys to donate to a handicap relief fund, the soldiers buying junk food snacks from the vendors, the prayer rugs and folding chairs being toted in.
On my way to another audio tour, I passed by a gaggle of soldiers. Some flirted with each other (both genders participate in their mandatory service), most held their guns at the ready, all were enjoying a cool morning in the sun.
A street section in the Muslim Quarter is considered to be the path that Jesus took while carrying the cross. I saw some re-enacting that:
Women selling produce:
I started getting a little peckish and saw several locals crouched along the sides of the streets, munching on.... personal pizzas? I bought one that most were eating ("When in Jerusalem..."): an egg and sausage dish.
I took a photo of this spice stall when a customer walked into my frame and turned around. I didn't mean to be so creepy! I promise!
Besides tourists and pilgrims, there are plenty of people who live in the Old City. I wonder what it would be like to be a kid there, who--despite tourists streaming by--were playing as freely as if it'd been in a cul-de-sac.
I remembered that my Israeli coworker said that he'd had the best Knafeh in the Old City, so I googled Knafeh. Google maps revealed one place on the other side of the city, so I started booking it. For a while, I swam upstream through Muslims heading to the Dome of the Rock, but I must have switched streams at some point, because I found myself navigating Jews heading to the Western Wall.
Minutes ticked by, and shops started closing down for Shabbat. I started getting a little frantic seeing each additional shuttered door. "What if I don't get my knafeh!?" Luckily I arrived in time at THE knafeh place. Actually, I arrived with plenty of time, as the store was Muslim-owned, so not likely to close at sun-down.
Here's the guy pouring syrup on a big batch before sprinkling pistachios on it.
Okay, so it turns out the knafeh is a dish with a thick mozzarella cheese base, with a middle baklava-like layer, topped with syrup and pistachios. Soooooooo.... maybe not exactly my dream dessert, but I had to eat my "When in Jerusalem" words.
I found the distribution of stalls interesting. They sold cheap souvenirs near the super touristy spots, but would imperceptibly change to everyday goods (meat, hardware, paint, shoes, clothing alterations) nearer the residential areas. This transition occurred quickly, as so much is packed into that area.
Advertisement at an ATM:
I had an interest in being near the Western Wall at sunset; I wanted to see if there was anything interesting for Shabbat. While I looked at the map on my phone, one American lady and her friend asked me in basic English, "You have Wifi?" They'd been separated from their group, and so had spent the day flying solo (duo?). They were from Mississippi, very kind, and had had the most enjoying 10 days traveling around the area and "really gaining a better understanding of the people in the region." We shared stories of how powerful going to River Jordan and Garden Tomb were, and we talked about living in the South ("One of my husband's coworker's friends is Mormon!"). At some point, an fairly orthodox Jewish extended family set up an informal picnic right next to us. The three of us remarked at how cute the little kids were, and then the lady was that tourist who obviously took pictures of the Other People. Okay, I know that I'm being hypocritical because there's evidence of me taking such photos--and I don't think it's inherently a bad thing to do--but there's a more tactful and sensitive way of doing it. Meh. When they handed us the treats, I responded with "Todah." One of the Mississipians said to me, "Oh is that how you say thank you?"
The other folks were very nice to us, though, because they shared their brownies with whipped cream with us! They explained that the occasion was a month before the bar mitzvah of a young man in their group, so they were coming to pre-celebrate (?). When they gathered for a group photo I was that guy who whipped out my phone and snapped a shot.
It didn't look like much was happening at the Western Wall, so I decided to hike across the valley and up into the Mount of Olives/BYU Jerusalem Center to watch the sun set over Jerusalem. Along the way I met a camel. NBD.
Lemme just say this: if Jesus and his disciples had to be trekking up through these mounts and valleys all the time, they must have been IN. SHAPE.
And now as I sit here, typing up this entry, Alvin and the Chipmunks movie is playing on the TV while a Muslim call-and-response prayer is piped over loudspeakers outside. The coexisting differences would be incongruous anywhere else!
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