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.