You say you want a revolution, well you know...we all wanna change the world.

I'd like to take a moment to reflect on the current events in Egypt.

Revolution is at hand. I barely missed it. I'm somewhat relieved, but I'm not necessarily surprised. When we planned for our trip, we acknowledged the possible dangers of traveling to the largely unstable Middle East. We didn't want to waltz blindly into the area's social issues and political unrest, so we kept an eye on current events. Though, to be honest, I was far less concerned with Egypt than I was with Israel.

When I think about Egypt, I envision grand pyramids, the sphinx, the winding Nile and the remnants of an advanced ancient civilization. And while I did see all of those things, what was even more apparent were the vast amounts of poverty and filth. I had never seen a dirtier city. And while the citizens appeared to be generally happy, there was obviously a great neglect for their well-being from the government. Living conditions are absurd. Trash covers the streets as thousands of stray cats and dogs pick through, searching for food. There are no pedestrian laws or stop lights, so maneuvering around the city in a car is difficult at best. Food and water are often contaminated, and the air is heavily polluted. 


As a tourist, I felt like every single person in Egypt was after my money...and they were. They weren't trying to rob me; Cairo has one of the lowest crime rates in the world. But everyone was trying to get as much money out of me as possible. Merchants at the Khan al Khalili Bazaar would shout prices at me that were three times higher than they were with my friend Mohammad, and if someone merely stepped into your picture, they expected to get paid for it. It's easy to scoff and roll your eyes in annoyance, but really, a lot of this behavior comes from necessity. Nearly half of all Egyptians live off of less than two dollars a day, and many of the younger generation are unemployed. 


I don't blame them for wanting change. They've lived under the auspices of "democracy" with an unpopular president who has done little for them for nearly three decades (and controls them with his much-feared police force). They saw their African neighbor, Tunisia, revolting against their president and his government for many of the same reasons they're unhappy: repression, corruption, and police violence. One of these early protests took place while I was there, but it was very small.

There was a lot of doubt about my trip. Many people asked why I wanted to go to such a dangerous place on my vacation. My answer was simply this: The Middle East has been full of turmoil for thousands of years. It's always going to be in turmoil, and I want to go see the Pyramids and the Holy Lands before they disappear forever. There are always travel advisories, and this situation in Egypt has only confirmed my reasoning. The Egypt Museum has been looted. Several Pharaoh's mummies were destroyed and priceless artifacts either damaged or stolen. Hundreds of Egyptians who didn't want their precious heritage taken away formed a human chain around the museum,  but there are things I saw that no one will ever be able to see again. 


Egypt's future is going to determine the future of the Middle East as a whole. They've been instrumental in keeping peace with Israel, and the steps they take next will determine stability in the area. The Middle East may never be the same. Governments may fall, borders may move (again) and more precious pieces of history might be forever lost. I feel a personal connection to what's happening just based on my short visit and a realization that things will be forever altered. I'm glad that I was able to see it when I did.

Home sweet home

I made it. I'm in Houston, and I'm glad to be back. Thirty one hours of being on planes and sitting in airports makes being home that much sweeter. Three weeks is a long time to be gone. They say it takes two full weeks of vacation to get over work burnout. I believe it. I had one over that, and by the time I got back, I was ready to get back into my normal routine. 

Don't get me wrong...I love traveling and it was a fantastic trip. But that's one of the glories of travel and vacation, isn't it? You get to leave your every day life and step into the life of someone else. You eat their food, shop in their markets, and mingle with the locals. For this trip, I got to experience several cultures and an entirely different part of the world. Some of the most amazing things we did I couldn't possibly have planned for, while others, like seeing the Pyramids, I had dreamed about for my whole life. We went on a cruise down the Nile, haggled all our (well, my) money away at the bazaars, went grocery shopping at the local markets, learned to count in Arabic, bought spices, met the assistant director for the Egyptian Museum, saw some of the infamous World Wonders, ate more hummus than we ever care to remember, bathed and bobbed in the Dead Sea, climbed over ruins, said a prayer at the Western Wall, and visited some of the holiest sites in the Christian religion. 


I purchased way more than I should have, but my bank account is consoled by the fact that nearly all of my purchases were representative of the area traveled (or given to my mom...that lady made out like a bandit!. And in case anyone is wondering...I never once pulled out any of those Marlboros I brought to barter with. I know, I'm disappointed in me, too.)

I had an incredible time and am so glad that I saved and planned for so long and had the opportunity to have such an amazing adventure. And even though there was a lot of doubt about my going due to the instability of the area, in the end I'm glad I got to see the Holy Lands while they still exist. Would I go back? Absolutely. But not any time soon. There's too much of the world to explore first :). 

*The Blank*, aka a letter opener disguised as a dagger

Thanks to all of you who've followed my blog. I appreciate the comments and the messages. And because so many people have asked, I have posted a picture of the *blank*:Why didn't I reveal the object before? Simply because it was a gift for my father, and I didn't want him to know what it was before I could give it to him :). The blank is actually a super-cool letter opener with a very dull blade that looks like a small dagger. I purchased it in the town outside of Petra, and was distraught when I was told it was "illegal" (he said in Israel, but I think he meant at the bus station) and I thought it was going to get tossed. 


Wrapping up, thanks again for following me on this journey to an old world. Stay tuned for future accounts of my travel-savvy adventures abroad.

It doesn't matter what I order on an airplane...

By the time I get it, without fail, I wish I had gotten the other option. This was the case for last night's 1:30 a.m. "dinner," and for breakfast as well. I'm not sure if this is a testament to my decision-making abilities, or to airline food in general. Something tells me to lean towards the latter...

That being said, twelve hours on a flight really wasn't so terrible. GETTING on that flight, however, was a nightmare. I had fears that the *blank,* which had given me so much trouble at the bus station, was also going to get me in trouble at the airport...even though I was checking it. And sure enough, when we were in line to check in, the first thing we saw were scanners for checked luggage. "Crap!" I said, turning to Kevin. "What am I going to do? Should I just tell them up front?" We decided this was the best course of action. As I prepared my speech, we were approached by a young man in an airport security uniform who took and scrutinized our passports. "How long have you been in Israel?" he asked. "Three weeks," I responded. 

"Why are you here?" 
"Tourism." 
"What is this visa for?" 
"Egypt...we flew into Cairo, then went to Cyprus, then to Israel."
"Were you with a group? Or just traveling alone?"
"Just the two of us."
"What is your relation?"
"Kevin is my mother's first cousin...but I sometimes refer to him as my uncle."
"I see. Do you know anyone who lives in Egypt?"
"Only the hotel concierge we met there."
"Did he give you anything?"
"....No..."
"Is this your luggage? And who packed it for you? And where has it been"
"Yes, it's ours, we packed it, and it's been with us all along."
"I see. Alright, proceed."


I knew that security in Israel was going to be tight, but this was the PRE security questioning. From here came the bag scanning. I told the person at the scanner about my *blank*. She said it was fine, but that I needed to bring my bag to another counter to have it examined. Everything was taken out, looked over, opened, checked for radiation, and replaced until I was finally cleared from the counter. I took my bag, which by now was very unevenly weighted, and stopped short of the Continental kiosk which only listed "Newark" as a destination. Not good. My flight was to Philadelphia. A quick glance at my itinerary reminded me that even though my flight had been booked through Continental...the flight itself was through U.S. Airways. I ran up to the kiosk and asked if I could still check in there. "No, sorry, you must go to the U.S. Airways counter, which is downstairs." Downstairs!? "As in...I'm going to have to go through security again..." I asked. "It's possible," she said, not looking up from her computer. I hung my head, picked up my bags, and headed for the escalator. 


When I reached the lower level, I immediately found a security guard and explained my situation. The line for the U.S. Airways counters were long and slow and if I wasn't careful, I was going to be late for my flight (counters only open 3 hours before, and Kevin and I already spent 40 min at PRE security). The man took my passport, called a few people, asked what my "cousin/uncle's" name was and where he was traveling, looked at all my "this girl passed security" stickers, and finally pulled me to the front of the line and ran my bags through. The girl helping him looked at me and said, "we're going to try to help make this faster for you," which of course I appreciated. What I didn't know, however, was that leaving security upstairs and trying to pass through security downstairs without being checked, made me a sort of target/security threat. So even though I got special privileges, my stuff had to be analyzed more thoroughly. 


They re-opened my bag, went through all of my belongings (again, the *blank* was  never mentioned because it was in checked luggage) and then escorted me to the VIP counter to make sure I got to the carry-on security check quickly. The man at the VIP counter noticed that I had a middle seat and graciously put me on a list to have my seat changed the moment a window seat opened up on the flight, and scooted me off towards security. From here I had to go through regular carry-on security and then go to ANOTHER special security room with a hand-full of other people, where they separately scanned all of my electronics, took everything out of all of my bags, nearly thew away all my liquids, and then FINALLY gave me the green light to go. 


Next was customs where I had to wait in line to have my passport checked, my intentions questioned, and ultimately set free. I was at my gate 10 minutes before boarding time, putting me at just over 2 hours for security checks


Israel...I applaud your efforts to keep your citizens, visitors, and airlines safe. But I promise, I'm not as menacing as my appearance suggests. Perhaps it was the fact that I looked 17 and like someone who would eagerly accept a package or gift that someone handed me at the airport to do something devious. Regardless, by the time I got to Philadelphia and went through security again, I knew there was absolutely nothing to worry about. 


Now, just 3 more hours of airport food and gloomy skies before I'm on a plane, heading back to Houston to officially end my adventure...and what an adventure it was.

At last...

It is currently 8:03 p.m. and Kevin and I have been sitting in the Ben Guiron Airport in Tel Aviv for the last three hours...and will be here for another four. At 9 we'll pick up our luggage and venture over to the Continental Airlines counter (please no problems this time) and check-in. So why, you ask, have we been here for so long? Simply put, we ran out of things to do. 

This morning we woke up, made coffee, ate our market pastries, and set out for the Carmel Market once more. From there we hopped on a bus to Jaffa's Old City, where I adopted a little old lady as my Jewish grandmother. Of course, this wasn't intentional, but she was sitting directly across from me and clearly didn't like the way I was sitting (crossing my legs) so she decided to correct me by grabbing them and straightening me out. Then she followed her action with a short lecture in Hebrew, which was half to me and half to the other old lady sitting next to me. By her tone and patronizing looks, I'm pretty sure it was all about how "young people" don't sit right or take care of themselves and need to constantly be reminded of how to do things. Either way, I was pretty intimidated, and EVERYONE on the bus was staring. Thanks, grams.

IN the Mediterranean Sea

After making a few final purchases, we headed back and to the beach. Unlike the last few days, today was sunny and warm and perfect for walking down the beach, collecting sea shells, and terrorizing pigeons. The beaches in Tel Aviv are well-groomed, and you'll find little trash within the soft, tan sand. The water, as I mentioned before, is crystal clear and chilly to the touch, which of course didn't prevent us from peeling off our shoes and running in so that we could say we've been "in" the Mediterranean Sea. I mean, come on...wouldn't you? That's three major bodies of water we've experienced!

So after we got our fill or sand and salt, we headed back to the apartment to shower, change, and check out (late, much to the dismay of our anxious landlady who was reluctant to let us stay late at all). We brought our bags downstairs and left them in her care as we went once more to have Hungarian Blitzes before heading to the airport. 

At least it was kosher...

And so here we are, sitting in front of a lot of closed shops and open cafes, including a KOSHER McDonald's, which, in a weak moment, I decided to partake of (don't judge me...it was only fries and Kevin had a drink). Soon we'll check in and head to yet another waiting area where we can browse the Duty Free shops and try to fight off boredom with reading (thank GOODNESS I have a nook!). 

Fingers crossed that my checked luggage doesn't have any problems getting on the plane with a *blank* in it. 

More to come. 

17 must be my lucky number.

Why? Because that seems to be my magical age. I have had at least 6 or 7 encounters throughout this trip where the conversation goes like this:

Random person: How old are you?
Me: I don't know. How old do you think I am?
Random person: Hmm...you couldn't be more than 17. 
Me: ...are you serious?

I mean, I'm glad people aren't guessing 8 years in the other direction, but I still find it comical that everyone guesses the same number. Of course, this shouldn't come as a surprise. Last year at a book festival the guy in charge asked if I was the high school intern...and he was serious. Hopefully this is all just a testament to my fabulous skin and not to my style or behavior. This has, however, made my "I'm a (poor) student" story a little more convincing. 

Old grape press for wine at the museum

Last night and this afternoon it rained. The morning was sunny, but too cool to lay out on the beach. So instead, we opted for a visit to the Eretz Israel Museum. All shops are closed on Saturdays (still in observance of Shabat), but most restaurants and museums are open, making them a popular choice for locals and tourists alike. So, after 30 minutes of walking, and thus committing ourselves, we came upon the museum with 80 or so people waiting in line for tickets. It was ridiculous. "Are they doing BACKGROUND checks on everyone!?" Kevin asked after we realized the line wasn't moving. But soon enough we approached the counter, and with my brightest smile, I presented my old UH ID and was granted a student ticket for nearly half the cost. 

The museum had quite an assortment of exhibits, each in its own little building. It also had a planetarium and an intriguing photo exhibit that we stayed at until we heard the afternoon rain quit pounding on the tin roof. From there we grabbed a cab and headed back to the apartment. 

Best crepe EVER

Later we opted for dessert before dinner, and headed down the road to get some gelato. As it turns out, our little gelateria also makes crepes and Belgian waffles, so unable to resist the urge, I ordered a crepe with half caramel, half nutella, and a scoop of vanilla gelato on top. It was HEAVEN. On the way back, we stopped at the local pizza shop where pizza is made as one giant rectangle with different toppings. You order by telling them how big of a piece you want and they weigh it to determine the cost. Why we do not have places like this in the U.S. is beyond me. We need to catch up!


I do have to take a moment here to say that after three weeks, I'm definitely missing good 'ol American food. What, you ask, is the #1 thing I wish I had? It's simple: Macaroni and Cheese. I'm not sure why, but this has always been my go-to comfort food, and I'm mad at myself for not buying a box of EZ Mac for this trip in case of a food emergency (...there's always next time...). Don't get me wrong...the food here has been fantastic. But, I don't think I could eat another bite of hummus or eat another schwarma. The first thing I want when I get home is either a steaming plate of beef fajitas, complete with all the trimmings, or rotisserie chicken from Boston Market with a side of cheese-injected macaroni and sweet cornbread. And that's going to be how I welcome myself home.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, we'll rent bikes and have a ride down the boardwalk, occasionally stopping to enjoy the little beach pockets distributed along the coast. We'll make a final trip to Jaffa and the markets, and begin to say goodbye to Tel Aviv and our vacation as a whole. It's almost time to fly.

O Say Can You Sea?

Jaffa

I’m happy to be back in Tel Aviv. It’s a modern city, with fewer historical sites and taller buildings, but it’s right on the Mediterranean Sea. We rented an apartment on Dizengoff (a trendy part of town near the beach) for our stay, which has all the “basic comforts of home“ (kitchenette and wifi) and a view of the busy street below. For once this whole trip, we don’t have to do anything. There’s no long, detailed list or guidebook with ideas for places to see. Just whatever we’re in the mood for. It is going to be a fabulous way to wrap up this long vacation. 

This morning we wandered down the beach to Jaffa, the ancient port town that was where, according to legend, Perseus rescued the princess Andromeda after she was tied to a rock as a sacrifice to a sea monster. “Old Jaffa” is a sleepy little town made of stone that is peppered with art galleries, boutiques, and sea-side cafés.  We found a few old churches that unfortunately weren’t open to the public, before coming across a sign pointing to the legendary rock that Andromeda was tied to. Success! We continued to stroll down the rocky boardwalk passed the port, which featured hundreds of little boats in every color, ready to be taken out to sea. Soon we headed away from the boardwalk and into town where the tiny streets are lined with flea markets (more haggling…) and shops. We browsed, noting the goods, and promising ourselves that if we found anything REALLY interesting, we’d be back another day (I did and I will).

Andromeda's Rock

The Jaffa trip actually began and ended at the Carmel Market: a mid-sized bazaar catering to locals with actual, established prices and a lack of haggling (aka HEAVEN). After Jerusalem, I had sworn off bazaars for the rest of my trip. However, we hopped off of sheirut (small bus) #4, and found ourselves standing in its colorful, inviting entrance. You pick up on a bazaar’s vibes the second you walk in. If there are negative vibes, it’s a haggling market where customers are straining to get a good price. If there are positive vibes, it’s a market filled with locals where no one questions the pricing. 

We found all sorts of goods that morning. Kevin finally found the shirts he’s been searching for all trip (replacements for the t-shirts he’s sick of), I found earrings (around $3 each) and the same Dead Sea mud products they sold at the Ein Gedi spa, but for 75% LESS. The entire last 1/3 of the market was dedicated to food. Produce stands were stacked one after another alongside bakery stands, cheese shops, and meat vendors. So on our way back, we grabbed a few bags and went grocery shopping, Israeli style. 

Trying to get a butcher’s attention is like trying to get the bartender to FINALLY notice you and take your order. You wait for eye contact, and then jump up when they head your way. Unless of course it’s a produce vendor who wants to hit on you, and then you’ll find yourself at the front of the line with a beautiful strawberry in your hand as he smiles and says “very beautiful.” Yea. Kevin is my witness. This happened ;). We successfully managed to gather our goods and shove our way through the market, which was saturated with families purchasing food for Shabat dinner. We finally headed for the sheirut with our arms full of multicolored bags. 

Back at the apartment, we feasted on sandwiches made from salami, turkey, tomato, gouda and brie, along with oddly flavored Cheetos and Doritos I picked up across the street, and of course, plump, juicy strawberries purchased from my friend at the market for dessert. 

Tomorrow Shabat (sundown Friday til sundown Saturday) continues, and no buses run.  Fingers crossed that the day brings sunlight instead of the forecasted rainclouds so we can spend the day on the beach.

"Sorry, this is illegal in Israel."

This was the first thing I heard yesterday as I went through security at the Central Bus Station in Jerusalem. You have a *blank* in your bag. "Oh, no!" I pleaded. "That's not what you think it is." "Can you take it out?" asked the young uniform-clad military guy. "Yea, let me just find it..." I said, rummaging around in my over-loaded luggage until I found the object in question. "Also, I'll need to see your passport," he said. Dozens of people rubber-necked as they passed through the scanners, wondering what I had done to get moved behind the counter. The girl watching the scanner who had identified the innocent little souvenir shouted at the man from behind her screen. He turned to me. "Sorry, this is illegal in Israel." "Like...completely!?" I whined, afraid they were about to throw away my purchase. "It's not what you think it is. It's a *blank*. It's harmless! Look at it!" He examined it and told me he'd need to call in my information. A minute later, after my name came back as a non-threat, he dug into the bottom of my bag and placed the *blank* there. "Take this home, and don't take it out again while you're in Israel." I nodded, shoved everything back into my bag, forced the zipper around, and rushed towards Kevin and the ticket office. 

Thankfully, that was the only questionable encounter I'd had in Israel. We were heading back to Tel Aviv. 

Earlier that morning we got up and fought the cold, hard, wind to the Israel Museum--a 25 minute walk away. I noticed an abundance of one sort of plant in particular in all of the flower beds and even lining some of the sidewalks like hedges. I grabbed the top of one and brought it to my nose. "Oh my gosh. Kevin. It's rosemary!" It was everywhere. I can't keep rosemary alive to save my life, but apparently it grows freely all along the ground in Jerusalem....lucky. 



When we reached the museum, I picked up my student ticket, audio guide, and map and headed for the museum's main attraction: the Dead Sea Scrolls. The scrolls are housed in a large, dimly lit dome, and are carefully displayed to not allow much air or light to touch them. It was incredible to see how perfectly each character was written and to hear the story about the discovery of their location. 
From there we headed for the contemporary and fine arts wings, followed by the archaeological section, which was overflowing with artifacts from every major time period and civilization. We blazed through, casually glancing at Monet's work and vases from ancient Greece, not giving any exhibit nearly as much time as it deserves. We did not plan nearly enough time for this stop, and had a bus to catch. We rushed over to the grand model of the second temple, turned in our guides, and returned.

So, what are the morals of the stories? A) Don't ever buy souvenirs that look like that might be dangerous in any way...even if you're planning on checking your bag at the airport. And B). If you go to Jerusalem, visit the Israel Museum, and plan at least four hours for your trip. Trust me...it's worth it :) More Tel Aviv to come.

O Little Town of Bethlehem...

Bethlehem

"How still we see thee lie?" I don't think these lyrics apply anymore. Bethlehem is a large, bustling, town, which is actually now part of the Palestinian territory. There are roughly 30,000 residents, and although we saw several "Jerusalem and Bethlehem - Love and Peace" signs, this seems to be more wishful thinking among strained relations.


Still, move passed the steep hills stacked with homes and you'll come to Manger Square where you'll find the Church of the Nativity. 
 

Church of the Nativity

Here, according to Christian tradition, is where Jesus Christ was born. Compared to the grand and extremely ornate Church of the Holy Sepulcher, this building was quiet and modest. Thousands of pilgrims flock here every December to experience Christmas in Bethlehem, and we (thankfully) just missed the rush. The church is made up the relatively ornate Basilica of the Nativity (maintained by the Greek Orthodox Church), the Roman Catholic Church of St. Catherine (built in a more Gothic style), and the Grotto of the Nativity (several meters below ground, where a silver 14-point star marks the exact place of Jesus' birth). In a way, I think the modesty of this building is slightly symbolic of the modesty of the birth of Christ. He was, after all, born in a manger. 

Birthplace of Christ

A quick walk around the white, stone walls takes you to the Milk Grotto, where Mary and Joseph sought refuge with baby Jesus during Herod's "slaughter of innocents" before fleeting to Egypt. The grotto here was even more modest; the cave-like ceilings and walls made way for a small chapel and alter, dedicated to the history. We were the only visitors, save the groundskeeper and a single Christian pilgrim sitting on a nearby bench to pray. 


Manger Square is made up of several shops devoted to Christian pilgrims (and tourists) who have come to Bethlehem solely to see the church. Carved olive wood and mother-of-pearl make up a majority of the products, each shop boasting higher quality than the others. After careful consideration, we hopped into the Holy Land Arts Museum, where we were taken to a room upstairs to observe a little old man carving wood. He gestured towards me, so I stepped into his dusty workshop and watched as he took a small cross, punched holes, and proceeded to intricately carve out the center. It was incredibly tedious. Then he showed us a carved mother-of-pearl cross, and sent us to browse through his goods.

I had to get something. Of course I was going to pick up some inexpensive olive wood, but I wanted to show my appreciation for the man's work by getting one of his relatively expensive mother-of-pearl charms. The shop owner downstairs took out trays of crosses for me to view. "You know," he said, "when this man dies, this art will be gone. My son and I have not learned the craft. Almost everything you see here was made by that man upstairs, and detail determines the price." He pulled out another tray of less ornate crosses. "These were made by a machine, which can produce 500 at a time, and of course are less expensive. But you can tell, the detail just doesn't exist." He was right. So I reached into the handmade tray, and made my choice. 


This morning we went back to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher for better pictures and then wandered through the bazaar once more. I've come to the conclusion that constant haggling is mentally exhausting. If you see something you like, you have to decide how much you're willing to pay for it and how much the going rate is. It's never a good idea to buy something without comparing to another price nearby (though they're so aggressive, this is easier said than done). Plus you're always calculating how much it would be in your own currency. My exchange usually goes something like this:


Me: How much for this scarf?

Shopkeeper: 140 shekels (appx $40)
Me: 140 shekels!? Woah. No, nevermind, that's too much. I'll pass (begin walking away)
Shopkeeper: Wait! 100 shekels!
Me: No, it's still too much. It's nice, but I've seen similar scarves for 25. 
Shopkeeper: Yes, but this is a better material. Those have wool..this is silk. Here, I have ones for 25 inside. Please.
Me: (go inside and look disinterested) Meh, I don't care for any of these designs. 
Shopkeeper: Did you like the one outside?
Me: Yes, but not for even 100 shekels. The design is nice, but I don't care about the material. I'm a student (this has been a very lucrative, albeit false, excuse). I don't have 100 shekels for a scarf. 
Shopkeeper: Ok, how much do you want to spend?
Me: I already told you I saw some for 25. 
Shopkeeper: Ok, I'll make it 50.
Me: No. (And start walking away.)
Shopkeeper: Ok, 40! 30!! 
Me: (turn around). 30? Hm. (walk back and look it over again). I suppose 30 (around $8) is fine.

But this is an art, which can only be learned after being cheated multiple times. And honestly, something I couldn't handle on a daily basis. All the hassling can be stressful, and I'm already having anxiety knowing I'll have to enter another bazaar in Tel Aviv for my final purchase.


Tomorrow we head back to Tel Aviv, which is probably best considering today's fall of the Lebanese government. This region may become more unstable, and Jerusalem, where tension is already high, is not the place I want to be when that happens. Fingers crossed that our journey ends safely.

Wandering through the Kingdom of Heaven

I am hemorrhaging money. One of the problems of being in a foreign country with a good exchange rate is that you feel like you’re playing with monopoly money (and let’s face it…the bright colors don’t help dispel this notion). I cling to my US dollars, but I may as well be giving shekels away.  

I take back what I said about the non-aggressive market vendors. That only applies to the giant grocery store-type market we visited yesterday.  The souqs in the Old City, however, are just as aggressive as the vendors in Cairo… and in some ways worse. 

We arrived at the Jaffa Gate of the Old City at 10:00 this morning after a lengthy but scenic walk from our hotel. The Christian Quarter hadn’t quite woken up yet, and within a minute we had accidentally stumbled into the winding maze of bazaars that seem to be below ground. Instantly we were circled by the shop keeping vultures…each one waiting for you to make eye contact so they can swoop in and carry you into their shop. And once you’re lured in, you’ve practically already committed yourself to a purchase. If you’re actually interested in something they have, then the benefit is that they’ll rapidly drop the price to make a sale. The bad news is that if you weren’t ever interested, it’s hard for the owners to understand why you want to leave. It’s infuriating and captivating all at the same time. 

"Speak Friend and Enter"

We wandered blindly through the Christian souq until we stumbled upon the Arabic quarter (apparently the souqs connect) and made our way into a small Palestinian jewelry shop. The owner, Jamal, showed his hoards of crosses and religious symbols. After Kevin purchased a charm, Jamal pulled out four cups and asked that we drink a cup of coffee with him and his English wife, Emma, in celebration. “Jerusalem is a city unlike any in the world,” Jamal told us. “God’s blessing is here and his hand touches everything. Even the food and water taste better in Jerusalem, and once you visit here, you’ll have a hard time not coming back.” It’s true. I’ve fallen in love with Jerusalem in a way that I haven’t other cities. Perhaps it’s the mysticism surrounding the presence of every monotheistic religion. Or maybe it’s the fact that the holiest places on earth for those religions are right here. But regardless of the specific reason, being in Old City Jerusalem is like being in another world. You always hear about the turmoil and controversy within these walls, but as a visitor, you don’t see any of it. Emma arrived in Jerusalem in 1973 to study. She never returned home. She met Jamal; they fell in love, got married and had six children. Jamal also told us of his journalism friend from the US who comes back to Jerusalem at least twice a year for a week. He can’t seem to escape the constant quieting feeling you have by being in this place. At the end of our coffee, he asked if I was Kevin’s daughter. When I told him no, he exclaimed, “Ah! So this is why he did not buy you anything! Here. As my gift, you may pick out any silver cross you wish.” I told him I couldn’t possibly, and I’d feel terrible. “Why?” he asked. “You should feel terrible refusing my gift!”  And he pulled down the silver crosses for me to view. 

The Holy Sepulcher

 Our next stop was the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which is one of Christianity’s holiest sites. It covers the land where Jesus was crucified, buried, and resurrected. I’ve seen many churches during my travels, but I have to say that this was one of the most incredible. Stunning and detailed mosaics depicting Jesus’ life and death are displayed on many of the walls, and all of the final “stations” from the Via Dolorosa (the path Jesus took to the cross) lie in that building. The Church of the Holy Sepulcher belongs to the Roman Catholic Church, the Greek Orthodox Church, the Eastern Orthodox Church, and the Armenian Orthodox Church, and a mixture of architectural styles and designs can be seen throughout. Actually visiting the various sacred stations (namely, the alter of the crucifixion, the Stone of Anointing (where Jesus’ body was prepared for burial by his father), and the Holy Sepulcher (Jesus’ tomb itself), is indescribable. Even with the blur or candles, incense, people and prayers, you still feel a distinct connection to your faith and its roots.

View of the Dome of the Rock with the Western Wall

The Western (Wailing) Wall was the same way. The wall—which is the holiest place in Judaism—separates the men from the women. No one speaks. Everyone just prays. I quietly waited until a spot opened up, stepped in, kissed the wall, and prayed. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so moved by speaking a simple prayer. If only I had thought ahead to write my prayer as a note to leave between the cracks. Following everyone’s examples, I carefully walked backwards, out. 

I’m truly upset we didn’t plan for more time in Jerusalem.  There is so much to see and do. As Jamal told me, “You would have to stay in Jerusalem for three or four months to see everything.” And he is right. We saw the Dome of the Rock from the Western Wall today, but unfortunately it’s heavily guarded, and closed to anyone who is not Muslim. So, we roamed more of the city, ate some amazing (and amazingly overpriced) food, and made our final run through the souq. 

Oh, and for anyone interested, marriage proposals have picked up again. As I was preparing to leave a shop, a 17-year-old boy asked me where I was from.  “Ah, so where is your man?” he asked. “Back home in Texas!” I replied. “Ok, tell him a man offered 500 camels for you in Jerusalem.” FIVE HUNDRED! Wow…that is a lot of camels. Obviously, I had to decline, but I’d like everyone to take a moment to think about the possibilities here. 

Tomorrow we venture to Bethlehem to see more of this Kingdom of Heaven.