Our first day we decided to just walk into the old city from our guesthouse.
Speaking of our guesthouse, I am not going to speak of it. Usually in my blog I provide links to the places we stay. This place is a sham. I will simply tell you to stay away from the Little House in the Colony, in the German part of Jerusalem. Google it if you want, but I warned you.
So we walked into the old walled city of Jerusalem. It wasn’t far, maybe a kilometer or two down the street, over a park, into a shallow valley across a bridge then through a small waterfall (!) and up the side of the hill to the base of the city walls. *later note: The waterfall was gone two days later. Maybe it was runoff from storm drains, a broken pipe, or my favorite thought: it was another miracle in this city of miracles.
The city walls are impressive; big, clean and in good shape, with a green grassy park running along the base.
We had a choice to walk in the Jaffa Gate or the Zion gate. We headed to the Jaffa, because it is one of the main gates dumping us directly into a Main Street splitting the Armenian and Christian quarters by The Tower of David.
Ironically, about the first thing you see coming in is the money changers booth. No fooling.
So Jesus didn’t drive them out after all.
We stopped for Jacobs pizza and beer then set out walking to see what we could in a couple hours.
On paper, old historic, walled Jerusalem is not that big. Wiki says it is about one square kilometer.
But in reality, about ten gazzillion kilometers of twisty alleys and tumbling cobblestone streets, plus stairways are crammed into the walls.
Theoretically you can take a one-zigzag shot from the Jaffa Gate to the Lions Gate, but in reality with the twisting and turning and crowds you might end up totally sideways at the Damascus Gate, even with signs pointing you the “right way.”
Add in the crowds, guards pointing you away from “off-limit” areas, and you have a fun maze to explore.
Lesson one: Jerusalem is a city better suited for wandering and stumbling across the “famous sights” rather than a city suited towards a quick “top ten” cruise through.
You can’t get really lost, eventually you run into the wall and then just go along it till you hit a gate.
The first thing I did when we got back to our room was to toss out the “to see” list.
Our first stop was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which is built on top of what used to be Golgotha, which is the hill where Jesus plus lots of other people were crucified.
.
So, of course, there is a rock with like a hole in it where they are just 100% sure Jesus' cross was set. That exact one.
So there is that, along with a holy split-in-half Rock of Calvary, of which half belongs to the Catholics and half to the Greek Orthodox.
Catholics.
Greek Orthodox.
Sorry all you protestants and evangelicals. As far as history goes these guys are the true Christian church and religion. Because of this, some protestants refuse to play along and go to the garden tomb instead.
Continuing on through the church: there is the flat stone slab where Jesus body was laid. The exact one from 2000 years ago. The thing to do here is kneel down and either lay your forehead or cheek on it.
Finally, the big draw: there is the tomb where Jesus was buried, just right there.
So he wasn’t hauled away somewhere and buried, it was conveniently located right here in this very same building, on Golgotha itself. Might want to check that in the Bible.
All these attractions and more are owned and run the three big Christian groups; ie Greek Orthodox, Catholic and Armenian Orthodox. They split the duties.
We waited in line to go inside this big fancy stone chapel built side the cathedral just to kneel at a little table with gold trinkets around it. I saw people actually get the heebie-jeebies.
For the religious person, this is like Disneyland.
But, my favorite exhibit in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was deep deep underground. In fact, it was out of the way, and you didn’t have to wait in line for it. There was a carved out niche in the rock, with a prayer place, and in the niche was the Holy Fire Extinguisher.
Really.
Unfortunately for the Christians, Jews, and Armenians, this spot is owned by the Muslims and they aren’t sharing. But I wanted to go look through the gate at it.
Fun fact: the dome is real gold. OK. Not solid gold, just gold leaf, but still...
Well we missed the giant mosque somehow.
Amazing.
It is like the single biggest thing in this tiny area yet we never caught a glimpse of it from street level. And every time we got within two blocks of it, the Muslim or Israeli police, all with big guns, would tell me that non-Muslims were not allowed past this point.
You know, when a 19 year old is casually smoking and pointing the rifle right at you, hand near the trigger, you smile and turn right.
We ended up crashing instead right into the Western Wall.
This is called the “Wailing Wall” for those who are directionally and/or emotionally challenged.
Crazy ‘nuff, the Dome of the Rock sits right above it... yet never a glimpse.
The Western Wall.
Nobody was wailing. The wall is smaller than you think. Part of it goes underground. There is a women’s half and a larger men’s half.
Get it? "Half..." men’s half is larger...
Anyway the wall is segregated.
Good news: just like you imagine there are people bobbing back and forth, like hitting their heads on the wall. I can just imagine them saying, “Oy, why did I do such a knucklehead thing...???”
And just like you imagine there are scraps of paper tucked here and there in the cracks.
I had to wear a loaner skull cap. Gail had to put a scarf over her shoulders.
When I got tired of watching the people I wandered around looking at the police and soldiers. Dozens, maybe a hundred all armed with big guns just walking around or standing and watching.
Same thing in the maze of streets. Armed units of five everywhere. Some were Muslim police who seemed to be on friendly terms with the Israeli units.
The way I figure it, if something happens, no matter the quarter or the perpetrator, the blame will be spread among them all. And who do we always blame when things go bad (besides those damn greedy lazy teachers)?
We blame the cops.
Some areas close to the Golden Dome were off limits to non-Muslims which is how I think we got turned around sideways and ended up going out the Damascus Gate rather than the Lions Gate.
I don't know if this is just a Ramadan thing, or a full time thing.
Anyway, in two days of wandering back and forth, we never were able to get close to the Mosque. Seems like it was always off limits just a block or two away.
Stay tuned. We got to see it from a distance.
We did, however, get up on the rooftops of Jerusalem to see the “heart” or center crossroads of the city, where the four quarters meet. This is a spot right above the point where the two main roads cross.
That was a cool place. There is a little dome that marks it.
And we got on top of the Austrian Hostel and were able to gaze across the city skyline. It was really quiet and peaceful up there, out of the crowds, and it would be a great spot to just stay and look down on the Via Dolorosa.
The Via goes right through the heart of the Muslim Quarter.
Interestingly, the Dome of the Rock is in the top of the Jewish Quarter. Outside of Jerusalem the Jews and the Christians, the Armenians and Muslims might all be at each others’ necks, but here they intermingle and basically work it out, according to the locals we talked to.
Anyway, from the rooftops we had great views across at the golden dome.
Directly across from the Austrian Hostel is my new favorite church:
The Church of Our Lady of the Spasm.
With a name like that, how can you not visit?
Do I need to say what "spasm" rhymes with?
We went for the spasms, but we stayed for the food.
I so wanted to get some little souvenir trinkets or charms or, well, you know… “gifts” for friends.
Alas.
But, they did have a little Armenian Café tucked in the courtyard, with really good food and wine at a fair price, and so we had a great, simple dinner of falafel and shawarma as we watched the people go by.
Which leads me to Pomegranates.
We learned that the pomegranate is big to the Jewish faith, because it has 613 seeds which represent the 613 laws of the Torah.
That is 612 too many laws in my estimation.
Anyway, it is important (for this story) to note that some scholars think the pomegranate is the “forbidden fruit” of the Garden of Eden.
Even if it isn’t, many believe (here is the tie-in to Our Lady of the Spasm)... many believe and will tell you straight up that pomegranate is a natural Viagra.
Unfortunately they were not serving it at the Lady Spasm Café.
Our Lady Of The Spasm
Seriously, it comes flying at me faster than I can keep up.
Here is yet another interesting fact for you to ponder:
The Mount of Olives just across the Kidron Valley outside Jerusalem is supposed to be the place where Jesus is going to come back, and raise people from the dead. So, of course, this is the perfect place for a graveyard.
A HUGE graveyard, where spaces cost over $10,000 per plot.
“Why?”
you might ask (as I did, with my eyes popping out). Simple: people are
paying to be the first ones raised from the dead; to be the first in
line to enter heaven.
Seriously.
Dead serious, to the tune of over ten grand. Turns out a rich man can indeed buy his way into the front of the heaven queue.
See?
All this stuff is Biblical, even if it is in a reverse sort of way.
Sort of like Jeff Sessions taking kids from their parents and sticking them in tents, in the desert.
Biblical.
Another fun thing people love to do is buy bouquets of thin candles. Then, when you go into your favorite church or shrine, you find candles that are already lit and you light the whole bunch of a dozen candles at once. You don’t unwrap them first, just set the whole thing ablaze, like a
torch. Then blow it out and stick it in a bag.
I watched one guy do six dozen candles like this.
I am hoping that they are gifts of some sort.
Don't think it is just the christians who are kooky here. The muslims have sealed up the Golden Gate (located by the Golden Dome) thinking they can stick it to Jesus when he tries to return that way.
Hell, even Superman could simply blast through that with his eyes.
Then there are the kippah or yarmulkes that the jewish wear, to keep their heads covered. You find all sorts of Bible and Torah themes for sale: Red Sox fan? SpongeBob?
Overall it is more relaxed and less high pressure than Morocco. We could actually slow down and look.
But Gail, not remembering, fell sucker to the “Where are you from? I have a brother... come in, come in...” routine more than once when she actually stopped to look.
I had to grab her hand and actually drag her out of one place, the guy just would not let her exit gracefully.
Gail found a necklace she liked, with a pendant made from old old Roman glass shards that had been broken, buried, dug up centuries later and turned into jewelry. The family has been making silver and gold jewelry for four generations now. The guy wanted $350 US for it. No way. We walked away before she got it for $90.
I swear-to-god if one more person asks me, “Hey, where are you from?” I am going to hit them. This is always the pre-curser to a long, made up conversation about "...my cousin who lives near you and come buy from my store my friend..."
Several shop keepers literally asked me to buy something just to support their store. I have learned to be very deaf.
Ahhh, Jerusalem.
I finally figured out how the bus ticket system works. The first time we bought tickets they also handed us a little credit card. I thought maybe it was loaded with a ride. But it didn’t work when I tried it, and I had to pay again, but as I paid I also had to stick the credit card in this little reader. But then it didn’t work, until… I took two rides in a short time.
The credit card is the “time keeper” of the ticket you buy. One ticket is good for 90 minutes of bus-metro-train time. So, you pay, you insert the card, the “time” on the card starts counting and for the next 90 minutes you can hop, bus to bus, just inserting the card back in the reader.
Also, the bus route signs. You read them right to left (backwards of how you are reading now) so the bus number is on the right side, the time to arrival is on the left, and the destination is in Hebrew so you better just know the bus number.
It sure looks festive: strings of colored lights everywhere, food and drink, bags of supplies, stuff for sale.
But if you have the misfortune to be in one of the alleyways as people start pouring in, well you are really in a jam.
Literally.
We got stuck in a crowd so dense I could have really picked up my feet and been moved along. The bottle necks occur where the alleys squeeze down, or where there is a food stand which is everywhere.
We took the first side alley we could find, and after battling through the first 50 feet we suddenly popped out into Almost-Emptyville. Then it was just a matter of keeping basic directions in my head as we climbed up steps, turned right, then left then left then twisted around, then hit some landmark church, then on again up into higher and smaller passageways, always avoiding the main street crowds below.
Well, our intent before we came here was to spend the three and a half days going around to see various parts of Palestine and Israel. But after seeing what a huge, crowded maze Jerusalem is, and after our all day experience going to Palestine (next blog post), we decide that, instead of trying to cram in some other day-long, exhausting trip (to Jericho? Masada? The Dead Sea or Sea of Galilee?) we would stay here, walk back into the old city and try to find the pulse; try to find something special to take away from Israel.
One afternoon we walked out of the Lions gate, across the valley, and up the hill next to Mount of Olives to a little French mission called Abraham’s House. We bought two beers and took them up on the roof to enjoy the view back over Jerusalem. Here’s the thing: it was hidden, behind gates, on a hill and very quiet and peaceful.
We spent the morning, wandering back and forth, up and down through the Jewish quarter, seeing the underground remains with the Roman columns, the newer residential apartments, and the upper viewing platforms over the Western Wall. We poked into a bar mitzvah, the music spilling out into the street and we saw the war memorials from the 1949 war.
Back in some streets we watched a bunch of five year old girls hula-hoop, including one who had a square hoop. It didn’t roll so well. We also ran into a group of boys playing follow-the-leader-on-the-obstacle-course.
After a couple hours we stopped into a random little cafe, and I had a shawarma while Gail had hummus and pita. We drank delicious cold draft beer and watched people walk by.
Then we spent a few hours zig-zagging through the Armenian Quarter. This didn’t take long. While the Jewish Quarter had more “modern” looking buildings, the Armenian Quarter has older stone block houses.
By this time we were starting to recognize particular streets, and I could navigate by landmarks. We visited more sights than I can remember: the house (or cave as it was deep underground) where Mary was born, the St. Mark church in the Armenian Quarter where the Last Supper was held in the upper room, and so on.
We have been eating breakfasts, and a couple dinners, just around the corner from our guest house. There is a great bakery, and a nice little coffee shop. In both places you can sit outside, drink good strong coffee, and have excellent pastries.
One night we ate dinner at Caffit, and had smoked salmon pasta and four cheese ravioli.
Another night we ate a small, locals-only place named Ben-Ami. I really liked it here. I had a really great tomato, pepper and goat cheese sauce on something like gnocchi, while Gail had toasts with hummus, olive, eggplant and other dips.
Our last night we sat outside at Burger Bar, where I had a great Beef/Lamb Burger with all the stuff on it, and Gail had a portobello mushroom burger. Just needed some of that good 2011 Albireo Malbec to go with the burgers.
It is all OK.
But not great.
I am just not feeling the special *tingle.*
Perhaps we need to spend more time at Our Lady of the Spasm.