First night I hear a brief burst of automatic gunfire. I wonder what it means.
The Old City is about a square mile of walled in area navigated by narrow walkways and almost impassable streets. The main avenues are so narrow and covered with awnings the sun almost never hits the limestone blocked streets. These streets are thick with various vendors, most for tourists, others for locals. 99% of the shops are less han 10 feet wide, manned by a middle aged Arab male. There are barber shops, cobblers and seamstresses cramed into tiny cubieholes. Spices, shoes, butchers green grocers and eateres round out the vendors.
The busiest 'streets'' are almost impassable, choked by overflowing shop displays, kids on bikes and pedestrians. At times it seems impossible to add one more person to the throng, then there is a call to prayer and things quickly thin out. The young Hassidic teenagers almost trot on t eir way to the Western Wall as they pass through the Chriustian and Ethiopian Quarters. And there's always a stray cat or two wandering around. Always.
And the troops. Or police. You literally can not walk 100 yards without seeing a security detail of three or four soldiers or police. They never travel alone, they also have automatic rifles on hand and they look barely old enough to shave (those that don't shave have the thin fuzz of the young). They make you feel safe and afraid at the same time. Safe because they are there, afraid because they are there for a reason. They usually chat casually amongst themselves, but it is not uncommon to see them questionng an arab teenager.
Beyond the security this is a place of immense history. Jesus, David, Abraham, Mohammed and a thousand others have been here. Crusaders, Romans, Phoenicians, Ottomans, Philistines, Egyptians, Israelies and many others have controlled this tiny square of land. Three of the world's major religions see parts of this place as sacred. History has washed over this place, blood has flowed here, famous words were spoken here, and bullets and insults have been exchanged here. And for literally thousands of years people have lived here. People live here to this day, down narrow alleys and deadend walkways. The streets of ancient times are buried under years of rebuilding and rubble but you can feel the strength of the place with every step.
I walk these crowded alleys daily absorbing the feel of this place in every glance. I have the random thought that I could live here and be entertained by a daily stroll through a timeless but ancient city. I can almost tatse destiny and history on my toungue with every breath. It overwhelms the senses, most of all one's sense of history.
Looking back, there were clues everywhere, but I saw nothing about myself in such a glorious place. I was headed for an Israeli prison and I never saw it coming. At least not yet. I was blinded by my love of place. I should have known better. Some lessons are harder to learn than others.
Walls of the Old City. It is surrounded by modern Jerusalem.
The Western Wall oof Soloman's Temple, also called the Wailing Wall.
This was on a Sabbath evening of a new moon. Biggest crowd I saw.
A more typical evening at the Western Wall.
The dark spots on the wall are hardy shrubs.
Note the many bookstands at the ready for prayers.
