The Western Wall

With only ten days left in Israel, yesterday I decided to ditch work and head up to Jerusalem with Iris and Alex. Iris and Alex are both summer students in Clore House. Iris is Canadian though she was born in Israel and Alex is from the U.K. I must admit that it came in quite handy having Iris around yesterday. Since she speaks Hebrew fluently, she's quite proficient at bartering for things like green onion and men's underwear. (And… before any of you start thinking about perverse things to do with boxer briefs and produce, mind you, the two purchases came from separate stores … not as part of a buy-one-get-one-free offer)!

By 10:30am or thereabouts the three of us had made it safely to the central bus station in Jerusalem. From there, we trekked down to Ben Yehuda Street, a popular tourist path lined with souvenir stores and outdoor cafes. After ambling about for a little (I wasn't quite in the mood for shopping at this point and must admit I was a bit grumbly towards Iris whenever she constantly suggested a good item to buy), we made our way down to the Old City. As we rounded a corner near the Municipality Building, we caught our first glimpse of the old city walls and took a minute to absorb the view. "This could very well be the last time you see the Old City of Jerusalem," I thought myself. "Take it all in."

Me with Old City behind me in the distance

Since we were nearby the Jaffa Gate entrance, we brushed passed all the towers of trinkets being sold in the bazaar and stumbled into the Christian Quarter. Once there, I dragged Iris and Alex into the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer since I really wanted a glimpse inside and had regrettably found it closed on my last visit. I was amazed to find out how plain the church was. Except for the impressive domed ceilings, the building was rather simple and to the point, with only a small portrait of Jesus above the altar. Surprisingly, I found myself feeling quite at home. Even though it was in the middle of Jerusalem, the church was a lot like the one I attend back in Gilbert with long pews and the few plain tapestries draped over the alter and pulpit. After declining the offer to attend a German worship service (though I really would've found that interesting), I went with Iris and Alex to Christian Quarter Road, passing by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The Lutheran Church of the Redeemer

Along the Christian Quarter Road, we passed by several shops and eventually made our way towards the Jewish Quarter of the Old City. The Jewish Quarter was very different than the Christian Quarter—it seemed more like a little town in the middle of Jerusalem. Because most of the people in the Jewish Quarter are living there or attending school, it's an entirely different atmosphere. There are no synagogues in the Jewish Quarter because the people there just got straight to the Western Wall to pray. In addition to seeing a group of young soldiers standing in Huvra Square, there were many orthodox Jews wearing long dark clothes that looked depressingly hot in the sunny weather.

Alex and Iris in the Jewish Quarter (and an unsuspecting orthodox jew)

Soldiers in Huvra Square Alleyway in Jewish Quarter
Menorah in Jewish Quarter

After walking along a cool shaded alley and down a long flight of stairs we arrived at the Western Wall or "Wailing Wall." Because men and women must go to separate sections of the wall, Alex and I split from Iris and walked over to the men's side. I was intrigued to discover that the men's section was three times larger than the women's, forcing the women to huddle together quite closely. Though Iris was a bit disgruntled by this "spatial inequality" I simply reminded her that any department store I'd ever been to had a women's section that was always five times bigger than the men's… so it was only fair that we men get more of the Western Wall in the grand-scheme of things.

Given that Alex and I had to wear something on our head and neither of us owned kippas, we both grabbed one of the disposable paper hats being offered to us. As I'd forgotten to pack my weekly supply of barrettes, neither of us had anything to clip the hats onto our head with, and so we were compelled to hold them on the back of our heads with one hand. Imagine taking a McDonald's french-fry box, emptying out its contents, and dumping the container upside down on your head…it was a lot like that. Just not as greasy.

Though we spent less than five-minutes at the Western Wall, like most things in the Holy Land, it was a very humbling experience. Paper notes scrawled with all sorts of messages were folded and crumpled into every crevice between every single stone. I didn't write a prayer, but if I had I don't know where I would've put it. It looked as though some of the notes were just floating there in mid air, somehow clinging on. I touched the wall, bowed my head, and said a prayer before heading back with Alex to meet Iris.

Me with Western Wall and Dome of the Rock
Western Wall and Dome of the Rock

Around mid afternoon, Alex decided to head back to Rehovot while Iris and I decided to continue shopping. We walked back to Ben Yehuda Street desperately looking for inspiration. This time, I was a bit more open to souvenir ideas. Though, I must say that Iris's suggestions to buy teapots, pineapples, and backpacks were altogether stupid. Sorry, Iris! But, honestly, how am I going to fit anything that gigantic or breakable into my suitcase…especially since I already have twelve tubs of hummus and trina to bring back!

With a rather unsuccessful trip to Ben Yehuda, Iris and I meandered back towards the central bus station, stopping at a local market on our way. There, we happened upon a really exciting spice stand that was overflowing with all sorts of great smells: paprika, cinnamon, zatar, soup mixes, and even potpourri. Iris made some veggie purchases at one of the stands and we continued our walk back to the bus.

Mountains of spices!

More spices!

When we got to the bus station, we rushed over to the platform, catching the bus to Rehovot just as it was boarding its last few customers. Given that we were very near the end of the line, we ended up having to sit on the bus floor the whole journey back to Rehovot. It was a miserable ride made better only by the satisfyingly great day we had just experienced!