Jerusalem of Gold
Wednesday the 16th of April. I’m counterbalancing the healthy walking with doses of felafel, beer and kosher pickles. I’m getting a tan but not on my bloody legs where I want it the most. Is it the hair? Should I shave my legs? Is that kosher here?
Today I caught the bus to Jerusalem. It’s only about 1 hour away. The bus was near full with young army people. One girl, with painted fingernails, lovely long hair and a semi-automatic weapon chatted on her mobile phone the whole trip. I didn’t try to chat to her for fear of getting a good eye scratching. It honestly doesn’t matter who you, what you look like or how blonde you are, army is compulsory here.
The bus to Jerusalem got it’s seat covers from the old Star City Casino in Sydney.
The ride goes through some lovely areas, mostly housing, some farming, street vendors and tourist spots.
Vendor selling fahkari rug makers on the road to Jerusalem.
Arriving at Jerusalem central bus station I weaved my way down to the Old City.
Along the way to the Old City I passed a local market. As it was very sunny I was in need of a pair of sunglasses. Why I thought I could get them in a food market beats me. Inside the many narrow laneways were stalls of ever kind – meat, seafood, spices, sweets, nagillas, as well as shouting, yelling, wide hand gestures, spitting, crying, haggling and overt sexual inuendo. And that was just me!
Olives and pickles.
Spices.
Breads and pastries.
Fish.
Halvah.
Entering the Old City via the Jaffa Gate, I hoped the information centre would offer me some idea of what to see. Lo and behold they were on strike. Probably due to having to deal with Americans asking if there was a McDonalds nearby.
It was therefore up to me to lose myself amongst the many twisting pathways of shops, hotels, apartments, synagogues, chapels, mosques and eateries. With a general idea of which direction I was heading I walked on, down long laneways underneath high ceilings of stone and rock, pathways dating back thousands of years, now a welcome mat for locals, tourists and spiritual journeymen and women, the melting pot it was and I was some cracked pepper.
Rugs, Judaica, jewelry, clothes. Not one pirated DVD shop in sight.
Trodding the ancient pathways of the Israelites, Jesus, Brian and Peter of Dandenong.
Bongs R Us.
George W you funny fella.
I thought that stuff was made up? It’s real. Wow..the bible is true!
Dad, you would love this store of spices and other powdery goods. The smell is amazing. I’ve embedded a scratch and sniff applet to the picture above. Just rub your mouse over it a few times and smell the screen. Smell that curry powder!
Getting completely lost and at the mercy of store owners who really really wanted to know where I was from I headed up some stairs unaware of where they would lead. When I did reach the top I found myself on the rooftop of the Old City with a view towards the Dome of the Rock. It was here that a music performance was happening. It was so surreal.
One of the many streets of the Old City.
Resting for a while I checked my map to get an idea of my location. For the local unoficial tourguides this is a sign to offer some assistance. This was when I met thomas who for a small fee was keen to show me where he parked his car.
The offer of 10 Shekels was met with melodious tootling of his car horn and the playing of his 8 track cassette of Wham.
Soon after making a break from Thomas and his singing, I found the Western Wall, the last remaining section of the Great Temple after it was destroyed a long long time ago. (Can you tell I’ve done my hoework on this post?)
A man prays at the wall, asking god to help him know which tech shares to invest in after his loss during the last market crash.
Visitors to the wall leave messages on folded pieces of paper. As it was leading up to Passover, all the noted are removed and sold to a confetti factory.
The Western Wall is a very holy place, so men and women must pray in seperate sections. Don’t even try to show some sexy shoulder or leg ladies, you will be put apon by the modesty police that patrol the area. Luckily my white legs didn’t offend here. How strange.
In the adjacent indoor area. More people come to pray. See larger.
After lunch I met up with Tal, who I met through Justine Peleg. He is originally from Melbourne and made Aliya a few weeks ago. Aliya is where Jews from around the world make the move to live in Israel. He’s very much an Australian and his knowledge of Hebrew about the same as mine. his knowledge of haggling for some stretchy pants not so good.
Starting at 120 Shekels ($40Aust) we managed to get him down to 35 Shekels. Bargain.
Tal showed me around a little and we both headed back to Tel Aviv that evening. I really didn’t see a lot of Jerusalem that day, but still managed to experience the essence of the place, its history and people. I’d love to go back again before I leave.
Amazing pics, as always.
Oh, but don’t shave your legs. I’d pay money to see video or photographic evidence of your cousins WAXING your legs. Yes.. that would be amusing…
seeing the photos and reading about the effect Israel has had on you made me cry. It’s funny how there is something inside of me too that gets so sentimental about Israel- I can’t wait to be there next year-xx