I landed in Israel a little over a week ago and had originally thought that I would go to Tel-Aviv first but after reading my trusty Lonely Planet I decided that since it was Thursday, and the following evening would be the start of Shabbat the Jewish holy day that I should head straight for the holiest of cities to experience a "real" Shabbat. There are shared taxis from the airport in Tel-Aviv (which is about half way between TLV and JER) so I caught one. My friendly driver dropped me off down the street and about 6 flights of stairs from the walls of the Old City (yes they are real walls, and they are 'real' old), and pointed in a very general direction towards my hostel. It was a little after 10pm and there were people in the streets but they were also eirley quiet. What immediate caught me off guard were the groups of Orthodox Jews in full attire and Palestinian men chatting in their separate circles. They were close in proximity but seemed worlds apart. I made my way through the gate of the city (Jaffa Gate to be precise), these crowds and trouble-maker kids that skipped and laughed loudly. Until I found myself in a tight passage way with ancient cobble stone underneath my feet without a soul in sight. It was a strange feeling and I felt like I was definitely in the wrong place. I even backtracked a few times until I found the "street", St. Marks that I was looking for. It wasn't quite a street but more of a passage way up some worn stone stairs and the it turned left and became an even darker and smaller alley. It was enchanting and daunting at the same time seeing walking underneath the shadows of these old edifices. In a nook off this path I stumbled upon my hostel (Citadel) and when I entered it was lively and cramped. It felt like a cave and the building could have easily have been 500+ years old.
I have been to close to 20 countries many of them as a backpacker but for some reason I still cannot bring myself to plan ahead or even book ahead, and this trip to Israel has been no exception. So, when I got an opportunity to ask the receptionist if they had any availability he informed me that the bungalow was open. "What's the bungalow" I asked. "It's on the roof". 'It's a little crisp out, but why not I thought'. I asked to take a look and when I reached the roof I was surprised to find about 20 other people had set up camp on small mattresses. I checked out the bungalow which was really a plastic shed on the the roof, and chatted with a few folks about life on the roof, most of which was positive. So I took the "bungalow", visited with some people and then hit the hay.
One of the most charming and sometimes startling parts about Turkey was the call to prayer at dawn. Most mornings it was a distant song, except for when I was in Cappadochia. I could have sworn that they had moved the minaret speaker to my window seal, because it was so loud that I jumped out bed when it started. Jerusalem is the center of 3 religions and because it is so they all seem to be constantly in competition. The Orthodox Christians didn't want to be shown up by their Muslim neighbors so at about 20 minutes before the first call to prayer they start ringing bells from the church tower of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (I think). Apparently the walls of my bungalow weren't insulated very well and we were literally a stones through from the church and it felt as if the bells were on the roof. After the seemingly endless morning bells show and right as all of the roof dwellers began to drift back to sleep the call to prayer started, and then another round of bells shortly after, and so on, and so on.
When I woke in the morning I realized that I had paid a premium for the bungalow and that the roof seemed to have a relaxing breeze so I booked a roof mattress for the next night and set out to explore the city.
The Wall
The Old City of Jerusalem is full of history, strive and struggle, most of which I quickly realized I was not knowledgeable on. In the early morning the streets were still quiet and a few vendors were beginning to open up and where all very inquisitive and eager to get people in their shops. "Where are you from? Nice to meet you. Please have a look in my shop" they would say. Despite the early morning quietness (bells, calls, and chants excluded) the streets were full of pilgrams and tourists by 9am. I wondered aimlessly most of the day around the very small city visiting the place where Jesus walked with his cross, was crucified, died and was buried. I also walked through the Arab market and visited numerous other places until the crowds became overwhelming and I walked outside and around the walls. There I visited the Mount of Olives where I met a man named Abram who told me of his great adventures and tried to persuade me to visit his garden (for a price of course) where Jesus had once walked. I also walked through the City of David, the place where the last supper was held, and then back into the old city to see the Wailing or Western Wall and then Armenian Quarter. For those of you who have not been to Jerusalem and the Old City. It is divided into quarters or districts (Arab, Armenian, Christian and Jewish). How the Armenians got a quarter I was never able to find out.
After 6 hours of walk in and around the Old City I was completely overwhelmed by the people, places and history. Honestly I was ready to leave. I made my way back to the hostel to grab a bite before Shabbat started, according to everything I had read and people I had talked with, Jerusalem shuts down when Shabbat begins at sundown on Friday and doesn't get going or open again until Saturday at sundown. This is pretty accurate but not entirely true. For those of you who are not familar with Shabbat here's a quick overview. The word Shabbas means "rest" or "cessation" in Yiddish, and Shabbat is the 7th day of the seventh day of the Jewish week and a day of rest in Judaism. On Friday night Jews in Jerusalem typically take a trip to the "Wall" and then meet friends and family for Shabbat dinner to break bread and enjoy eachothers company. Saturday is a day of rest, prayer and reflection in which they are not suppose to work. On Saturday night the Sabbath is over and things resume to normal hopefully with a rejuvenated and refreshed perspective/
Back at the hostel I met Zach from Georgia who had just finished his Birthright trip (Birthright is an organization that gives American Jews the opportunity to take a week + trip to Israel for free at one point in their lives before the age of 26), and Robin from Vancouver who was working with an NGO that helps Palestinian Women. These would be my running buddies for the next 3 days. We where all interested in going to the Wall at the start of Shabbat to watch the festivities, and hopefully get invited to a dinner (rumor has it that if you dress nice and visit the Wall on Friday night that you'll get an invite to join a family for Shabbat dinner).
We cleaned up a bit and headed down to the wall. Zach had visited the Wall on Shabbat before during his Birthright trip and was very excited about going back. When we arrived we were greated by security as you are just about any where you go in Israel and the walked towards the Wall. Closer to the wall there were fences which separated men from the woman. In the men's section men were dressed in suits wore there traditional attire which differentiated them as Secular or Orthodox and even more specifically for the Orthodox as to what region of the world they were from (e.g. Russian, Eastern European, Western European, etc.).
Zach and I went to the men's side and Robin to the women's. I was asked to put on a Kippah (yamaka) as I entered and they gave me one from a basket. It was without a doubt one of the most joyous events I have ever seen or been apart of. Men set around tables reading scripture and singing songs. Some where set up in more typical synagogue style settings where Rabbis where reading and preaching. Others where dancing in circles and singing traditional songs. Many of the Orthodox where at the wall in a deep religious trance praying as they rocked. It is difficult to describe but it was a very happy occasion, and clapping with others as they sang and dance was awesome.
After a while Zach and I made our way outside of the fences where we found Robin in deep Israel/Palestinian policy debate with an Israeli name Alex who had invited us to Shabbat dinner at a Rabbi's house. These types of debates would dominate almost all conversations I would be involved in for the remainder of my time in Jerusalem.
Shabbat Shalom
We walked with Alex and a large group of born again Christians to the Rabbi's house. The Rabbi lived in a small apartment and we were all surprised to see dozen of tables with people seated squeezed into every square inch of living and dining room space. There were probably at least 50 people in the room of all shapes sizes and nationalities. It was was one of the most multi-cultural events I have ever been a part of. Orthodox Jews, Arabs, Rastafarians, Japanese Jews, Christians, Geramans, Homeless, Freaks, Nerds, and Normal People (whatever they are).
We all find a few scattered seats throughout the room. Men and women sat at gender specific table. Fortunately, I sat next to the Rabbi and was able to pick his brain as we sang, pounded on the table, broke bread, learned about the Sabbath and Shabbat, and ate, and sang, and ate, and sang over the next 3-4 hours. Some of the songs went on for 10+ minutes, and when I could no longer attempt to pronounce the Hebrew words I joined into pounding my hands on the table for rhythms. It was such a rewarding and liberating feeling to bang them on the dining room table (I think that the innerchild in all of us has always had an urge to do this). People of all religions and lack there of got up and told stories, shared advice and their perspectives on their faith. It was great to see the similarities of humanity intermingling and sharing in a place that has so much religious fervor and division.
It's the Religion Stupid
Although dinner at the Rabbi's house was a Utopian experience, outside his walls it was easy to see the division between religion, literally. As we walked back towards the old city we walked down a street were a wall had recently stood to separate the Israelis and Palestinians, and now a light rail system was being built. You could still see bullet holes in the sides of buildings. After the dinner we went to the one street in Jerusalem that is lively on this holy night. Conversation after conversation there were arguments and debates over policies, history, the future for the country, everyone set in their decisions in an unwavering way. The next two days followed suit. The only break in religious conversations came when we stumbled into a Russian Dance Club at about 4am. They were the only group of people that I met who seem to have care less about the religious and political tensions outside. More to come on this later.
After 3 days in Jerusalem I had had my fix of the Old City and head to Tel Aviv and the beach...
sounds amazing! i love you tom thompson!!!
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