After partying until the wee hours, we got up as early as we could the morning after the wedding and traveled to Jerusalem. We couldn’t go to Israel even for a short time and not visit that city.
It started with a cab ride to the Tel Aviv central bus station with a talkative driver who had only one piece of advise, “Don’t enter the old city through the Damascus Gate. That enters the Muslim section and it is not safe there.” Well, okay.
When we got to the station, he told us that our bus would be leaving from the 5th level. 5 levels at a bus station? This was a new concept for me, but I found out there were actually 6 levels, ramps everywhere and shopping mall with stuff for sale on all levels.
We were quickly able to buy tickets and find our bus as most people spoke English. It was somewhat disconcerting that several young (they looked 13 to me) Israeli soldiers boarded the bus with their assault rifles slung over their shoulders. I know they all serve and were very polite. The trip took under an hour.
Once in Jerusalem, we asked around for how to get to the old city. Holly had been told that there was light rail that would take us directly to where we wanted to be, but when we asked for that option we got blank stares. We were told to catch the city bus just across the street. Easy enough and after some discussion about the fare we were on our way. I don’t think I have ever been on a bus that needed to be that aggressive and use their horn as much to get through traffic. However, the bus driver was very helpful and told us that if we wanted to go to the old city, this was our stop.
We got off and started walking to the only visible ancient gate to the old city. First thing we did was walk across the tracks of the light rail trains that come straight from the bus station. Okay, must not have asked that question with the correct terminology. Coming to the ancient entrance, we saw the name “Damascus Gate”. Wasn’t that where we were not supposed to go according to our cab driver? Undeterred, Holly and I entered with confidence (and some internal trepidation after our warning, this is definitely not Kansas and the tensions are real and palpable). What we entered was a warren of small shops and vendors of nearly anything you could imagine. Most of the time it felt as though we were indoors and we were rather ignored by vendors and pedestrians alike, unusual for that type of vendor.
We wandered around for some time, passing through a security checkpoint, scanner and all, to enter the Jewish section, out on to the Western Wall plaza where Holly needed to avail herself of scarves that one can borrow if they have bare shoulders, and up to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, no scarf required.
The church had a lot of restoration going on and after trying to follow a maze of conflicting signs (it is a small church, what were we doing wrong?), we arrived at the entrance to the reported tomb of Jesus only to find a line longer than we could take in the heat.
We had been told by several sources that the Western Wall Tunnel Tour was not to be missed and we bought tickets for the late afternoon. It lived up to the hype. The Israelis are excavating the area all along the western wall of the temple mount (the visible part is a very small section of the whole). You can probably go online and find better descriptions and pictures than I have here, but let me just say that walking through an active archeological site that is completely underground and full of ancient archways and skimming the entire length of the temple mount was fascinating. In the middle of the tour we were told at one point that this was as close as a non-Muslim could get to the ancient Holy of Holies (look it up if you don’t know what it is) and we paused at a small place to pray for those so inclined. When we emerged about 90 minutes later, we were in the middle of the Muslim section again (nearly the whole site is under that area) and were met by two guards who escorted us back to the Jewish section through the checkpoint near the Western Wall plaza.
Those of you who know me well understand that although I am a spiritual person, I am not religious. But being in this ancient city with all of its tension, strife and paradoxes, was a profound experience that will be with me at least until I find time to return and dedicate more than a few hours to what is certainly a holy site, if not the center, for three of the great religions of the world.
Next year in Jerusalem.
