Western Wall
Lunch in Muslim quarter
Haram a-Sherif / Temple Mount
Jewish Quarter
Via Dolorosa & Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Dinner and Souk wandering in Old City
They warned us that Hezekiah’s Tunnel was potentially bone chilling. The weather has been quite cool by Israeli standards – 12 degrees Celsius today – and our guide (and several tour participants) weren’t quite enthusiastic about wading through the dark in a tunnel which ranged from about one and a half meters tall to perhaps 5, but was barely wide enough for me to pass through and featured running water anywhere from knee-deep to mid-thigh. Add to this the fact that the hotel's hot water heater had malfunctioned, meaning that cold showers had been the only option for morning ablutions. Still, more than half the group decided to go for it. We started outside the original wall and followed the zig-zagging tunnel under the City of David before coming out adjacent to the site of the Pool of Shiloam (which John describes as the site of Jesus' healing of the blind man). The water wasn't particularly cold, which perhaps makes sense since it would be close to the constant temperature of a subterranean source, and there was something almost trance-like about feeling one's way through the dark with only the light of another person's flashlight to show the way. The walls of the tunnel were quite dark between the light and me, giving an optical illusion of a wide room opening on either side of me in the middle distance. Poor Adam cracked his head and dinged his camera lens during the transit, but being a short and somewhat padded person came in handy for me once again. After, we continued exploring the ruins uncovered thus far and discussing some of the political implications of having Jews digging under the Muslim residential areas in search of archeological finds which might substantiate a Jewish claim to the land. One resident near the City of David had hung a protest sign which stated that excavations and settlements were "two sides of the same coin."
Lunch in the Muslim Quarter was falafel, hummus with tahini, tomato salad, naan, and some wonderful tea with mint. All the classics in a location which couldn't be more authentic, and I was in heaven. Back in the Old City, we covered everything from the Western Wall to the Temple Mount, with an unending supply of fabulous architecture and meaningful historical and Biblical sites. Artfully carved columns and blocks from the second temple period lay scattered around, and it was easy to imagine how the temple courtyard would have looked with its vendors and crowds of worshipers. The biggest problem I had was staying with the group, what with so many different treasures to explore and photograph. My goal became simply to not be the last person in the group was we progressed (a goal I did not always succeed in). Once we started down the Via Dolorosa, it only got worse.
Between 6:00 and the beginning of the Sound & Light Show at David's Citadel at 7:00, we were set free to find our own dinner and explore the souk (or market) near the Jaffa Gate. The souk is filled with vendors who "just want to show you something," or give you their card, or have a number of other friendly invitations designed to get you in the door and talking. I'm more of a bargain hunter than a dedicated dickerer, and had trouble getting used to issuing a firm but friendly no. I turned down a few things, made a few purchases, and then passed by a shop near the Swedish Hostel run by a guy named Hassan. He hooked me with scarves which were going for 10 shekels, and then kept me going when he conveniently didn't have change (which inspired me to pick out a pair of silver bracelets to make up the difference). Then he offered me a cup of tea, which was lovely but presented some questions of etiquette. Did I need to finish the tea, thereby committing myself to a longer visit? I decided I did, and had an interesting conversation with my host about American politics and the jewelry and ornamental garb of the Bedouin peoples. Another scarf found its way into my possession, as did a pendant made from an antique Turkish coin. Hassan said I looked a bit tired (Hello, it's called jet lag) and said he was a masseuse, and suddenly I was the recipient of a lovely head and neck massage.
I kind of wonder if my new buddy was trying to see how far he could get with me, and I had to firmly refuse additional favors (which is difficult for a Midwesterner to do). Still, he kissed both my hands and insistently invited me to come back tomorrow. (I really do NOT think that is a good idea, both for the sake of my wallet and to avoid any additional familiarities.) I dashed back up to the Citadel, our meeting place, and walked into the sound and light show in time for the depiction of the crusaders' arrival. A short bus ride back to the hotel, and we all sank gratefully into the cushions and shared a few bottles of sweet Israeli red wine received as a gift from the hotel. Almost as welcome was the news that their hot water heater was fixed and hot showers were available for all.
Mulling the day over, I am struck by the incessant parade of contrasts. The victories and defeats of Jewish history are displayed reverently and dramatically, while the evolving status of other peoples can be read in the debris- and shanty-covered hillsides. The plaza in front of the Wailing Wall was filled at one point with a clearly international crowd of the faithful, and at another with a huge crowd of young men and women in uniform who were being sworn in for their obligatory service in the Israeli Army. I saw more machine guns and other openly displayed weapons today than in all my life previous. Israeli flags and residences are located in the Muslim quarter in an "in your face" style, as is the graffiti shown here. I am constantly greeted by vendors and other hospitality workers with friendly questions about my family and home, but get the distinct impression from others who live here that tourists are (at best) a fiscally necessary annoyance. I find myself enthralled and a bit disheartened, all at once.
I stated earlier that my group is here not just to see the history of this incredibly historical place, but to gain some understanding of the peoples who claim it and the sources of their conflict. After only two days, I am perhaps becoming a bit seduced by the history. Today I walked across the same stones that Jesus almost surely trod, and gazed up at the remains of the palace balcony from which David might have spotted Bathsheba! And yet, history is written by the winners; I need to remain cognizant of the stories which have not been recorded, and listen to the words unsaid.
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