I am currently in a small hotel overlooking Salah ad-Din street, just minutes away from the Damascus gate entrance to the Old City, the center of Jerusalem. After being picked up at the airport and shown around the area a bit by a new friend last night, I was left to fend for myself (don't worry mom, everything is fine!)
After a semi-decent night's sleep and an icy cold shower, I decided to head out to do some exploring. Unfortunately, when I tried to leave my room, I found that the door was jammed and I had no way out. After pondering my non-existent options, without a clear idea of when anyone would be coming to pick me up, I succumbed to the true desire of any jet-lagged traveler: nap-time.
Alhumdulilah, some time later, I awoke to a knock on the door from the hotel manager who, after fixing the door, gave me a message from my host and invited me to sit and have some coffee, in true Arab style. We chatted together in English and Arabic about what I am doing here, which quickly turned political (not in an unfriendly way, that's just how things are here). He asked me some questions about America, and we agreed that almost anywhere it should not be assumed that the general public necessarily agrees with the actions of their political leaders. In reality, most people just want to live in peace, even when those in power exacerbate violence. Then he offered some wisdom to guard against stereotyping, telling me to look at my hand and notice that all of my fingers are different, just like the people in any group.
Finally on the street I had been peering at longingly from my locked room, I set out in the general direction of a few other spotted tourists and shoppers. I'm actually glad I didn't know quite where I was going, for this allowed me to experience one of the most remarkable moments I can remember. Crossing into the Old City, I meandered through a cobblestone walkway with beautiful arches overhead, as the Muslim call to prayer echoed around me. I happened to look up at the perfect moment, just as the golden Dome of the Rock appeared, perfectly framed by the archway right ahead. What a striking way to first lay eyes on this enduring symbol of the city, completely by surprise.
It felt surreal to wander deeper into these stone streets, past sites that so many hold dear. Yet there was an interesting paradox present--formed by the normalcy of shopkeepers and students and bread bakers just living their daily lives, sharing space with pilgrims who have long dreamt of visiting this holy place.
At one point, the owner of a Christian icon shop beckoned me over. Perhaps he just wanted to sell me something or thought I appeared lost (which I probably was, due to my determination not to look like a touristy map-holder). Regardless, I obliged and quickly found myself surrounded by walls of iconography, engaged in another conversation about religion and politics (clearly bringing up these topics with strangers is not taboo as in America). This man was Muslim, which I found sort of funny, considering he sells Christian icons in the Holy Land. However, he told me he finds meaning in this--a tangible example of living at peace with his neighbors in this place they all call sacred. Then he told me the same proverb about the fingers, so apparently this must be a thing.
Some more random thoughts:
There are a lot of cats in the Middle East.
Crosswalks, however, don't seem to exist (good thing GSU trained me on this one).
Everything is surprisingly close together, like almost on top of each other, especially in regards to the holy sites.
Little things like exchanging money, ordering lunch, and evidently opening doors take a lot of energy, but hopefully I'll get used to the unfamiliarity with time.
And lastly, I kind of feel like people are staring at me all of the time, not sure if that one is going to change.
Alright, that's all I got for now. Time to take another nap :)
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