City of David

I arrived in Jerusalem on the bus from Ein Gedi just over a week and a half ago. When I got off the bus it was sprinkling a bit, but I decided to walk from the station to the hostel. In retrospect I probably could have taken the tram, but the directions I had received made it seem like it was walkable. It ended up taking me about 15 minutes because I was shlepping all my bags, but luckily the rain didn't get too heavy.

The following day was a Friday so I signed up for the hostel's Shabbat dinner and then set off toward the Old City. I walked from my hostel down the commercialized Jaffa Street, stopping on the way for a snack and to buy a book at a used bookstore. I entered the Old City through the Jaffa Gate and walked past the Tower of David (it has nothing really to do with him) through the Armenian Quarter along the fortress wall and back out through the Zion Gate.

I had a taken free map provided by the hostel so I used that to get to the Church of the Dormition where the Virgin Mary supposedly lived and died after the resurrection. There is a tomb in the crypt with a carved statue of Mary. When I went down the spiral staircase to check it out, a tiny old German man who is apparently the "keeper of the crypt" followed after me to make sure that I behaved myself. I apparently didn't do a very good job of it because after walking up one side of an altar with a low rope across the center and out the other (unblocked) side, he came running straight over to curse me out. He pointed wildly at the rope and seemed to be asking (in some other language) why I would possibly want to violate that sacred space (I was up there for all of 10 seconds and didn't touch anything, mind you.) I tried to explain that since neither side was blocked by the rope, it wasn't at all clear that entrance was prohibited and I hadn't even seen the rope until it was too late. However, my explanations didn't seem to appease as he continued to yell at me while I protested back that it had been a mistake. I don't even know if he could understand what I was saying, but I finally exasperatedly told him to "CALM DOWN" and he eventually walked away. I have included a picture of the altar in question to prove that I was not in the wrong.

On the way out of the church, I stopped in the gift shop where I purchased a map of the Via Dolorosa from an exceedingly more friendly man. The Via Dolorosa is allegedly the path that Jesus took through Jerusalem on the way to be crucified after his arrest. I noticed on the map that every Friday at 3:00pm the Franciscan monks do a pilgrimage walk along the path so I decided I would join them. It was only about 1:00pm at that point so I still had about two hours to kill.

After leaving the church I walked to David's Tomb (where King David is almost certainly NOT buried) and looked around for the Room of the Last Supper, which my map indicated was nearby. The tomb itself was closed so I only saw the front door and had no luck located the Last Supper Room. I wandered around for at least half an hour trying to find the spot on the map, but finally had to give up and claim defeat. I decided I should probably head to the first place on my Via Dolorosa map since I had no idea how long it would take.

I thought the Franciscan pilgrimage started at the Church of All Nations since that was the landmark listed as number 1 on my map. The Church of All Nations is the spot in the Mount of Olives where Jesus allegedly prayed amongst the olive trees on the night before his arrest and was then apprehended by the Roman soldiers on the following day. On my way to the church I was walking along the outside of the Old City walls and decided to stop at the Western Wall since I had a bit of time. I put my prayer in the wall crowded amongst all the other women (the women's visiting side is about a quarter the size of the men's side even though no fewer women come) and then continued on my way. I arrived at the Church of All Nations a few minutes ahead of time and started looking for some monks to follow. There was one inside the church, but he didn't seem to be going anywhere so I decided I would just have to go it alone. On my way out of the churchyard some local guys saw my map and said I was in the wrong place. I actually needed to start at the first station, which was inside the Lion Gate. Since I was already late, I stopped along the way at Maria's Tomb where May is said to be buried.

Once I got to what I thought was the First Station of the Cross based on my map, there didn't seem to be any one still around. I hurried on the Second Station, which is in two chapels where Jesus was supposedly tried, convicted and given his crucifix to carry. From the churches, the "Way of Suffering" wides through the narrow, cobble-stoned streets of what is now the Muslim Quarter to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Along the way, I passed the other stations where Jesus dropped his cross three times and Simon of Cyrene came to help him. At other stations, Jesus met the Virgin Mary and comforted the crying women of Jerusalem. I was doing good until I got to the Eighth Station and then I totally lost my way. I kept walking up and down this same street as people tried to give me directions. I finally gave up and decided just to try to make it to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Sadly, I couldn't even seem to find that! I couldn't find the most holy Christian site in all of Jerusalem! I ended up coming out of the maze of streets back by the Tower of David and after receiving more directions finally found my way. It was literally the most failed pilgrimage ever. But I guess, as they say, "Our lessons come from the journey, not the destination."

Once I made it into the church the monks seemed to still be going through the stations (the final four are in the church) as I could seem them moving from place to place and chanting. I first did a complete circle of the church and then walked up a set of stairs to the spots where Jesus was nailed to the cross and then crucified. I listened to the monks finish their prayers and then joined the line of people who were waiting to kiss the crucifixion rock, which I touched, but declined to touch my lips to. I then went back down the stairs to the rock where Jesus's body was anointed and then finally to the "tomb" where Jesus was resurrected. This line was even longer, but I decided I probably should check it out while I was there so I joined the rest of the masses. From time to time, they would close the tomb as monks came to pray outside, which was nice to witness, but slowed everything down. After about an hour, I finally made it inside and got about 10 seconds to look at the marble tomb that was most certainly built centuries after Jesus was ever possibly buried there before the guard started yelling at us to move it along. I'm not entirely sure it was worth it, but at least I can say I did it.

Once I got out of the tomb, I had to rush back up Jaffa Street to get back to the hostel for the Sabbat dinner. All of the guests who sign up have to help with the meal preparation so I was in charge of chopping carrots and doing dishes. Once the meal was ready, one of the hostel employees explained the Sabbat dinner traditions and led us in some Hebrew prayers. During dinner I met a German college student and a middle-aged German woman who were both volunteering at a school in an Arabic city up north. We had a really nice dinner and had a great time chatting in the common room until it was time to head to bed.

The following morning, I had planned to join the two German women on a free tour of the Old City, but I got locked out of my room while I was showering and ended up missing the group before they left. I decided instead to head to Bethlehem for the day since most shops, restaurants and museums in Jerusalem were closed on Saturday for the Sabbath. I walked toward the spot where the bus stop was marked on my map, popping in the Ethiopian Church along the way. When I got to the right area outside of the Damascus Gate, I had a hard time figuring out where I needed to be. I wandered around for a bit and finally saw a sign with a bus on it that I decided must be the right place. I started to wait there, but only saw buses with the same three or four numbers coming by. I thought that maybe buses to Bethlehem were less frequent so I decided to still wait instead of asking someone if I was in the right place.

After about half an hour, I was getting frustrated so I walked around the block and saw a bus depot around the back. I asked about the bus to Bethlehem and was directed vaguely back to the spot where I had already been. I went back to the same corner until some Arabic guys called to me from across the street and asked where I was going. When I answered them, one of the guys told me I needed to go two streets down on the right. Then he told me I should zip the small shoulder pouch that was holding my camera and cell phone. I thanked him and started to walk away until I suddenly realized that my phone actually wasn't in the bag or either one of my pockets. In a slight panic I walked back over to the guys asking if they had seen my phone and then circled around the block again several times in case it had fallen out. I asked everyone I had spoken to, including the young boy I had bought bread from, but there was absolutely no sign of it. I realized it was gone. I have no idea if I dropped it or if was stolen, but it was clearly in someone else's hands by now.

I was actually very proud of myself that I didn't panic and cause a scene. Of course I was upset, but I realized that there was nothing that could be done and I now needed to take steps to deal with the situation . I had walked past a local police precinct so I went back there to file a report in case I would be able to claim the phone on my insurance. I had to wait nearly an hour while every officer in the place apparently ate lunch or something, but finally an officer arrived and took about two minutes to fill out a piece of paper, stamp it and hand it to me. Once I had the report, I decided I could either let the theft/loss ruin my day and go directly back to the hostel to suspend my phone account or head out to Bethlehem as originally planned. I decided a few hours wouldn't make much difference so I made the decision to take the bus to Bethlehem. It turned out the bus left from a big depot I had passed on my way over earlier that I hadn't bothered to check was the right place. This of course led to a series of "should have, would have, could haves." It was a stream of "if I had made it to the group tour," "if I had checked this bus station first," "if I had asked for directions sooner," "if I had zipped my bag," "if I hadn't been so absentminded..." I would still have my phone. However, what was done was done and all I could do was learn a lesson from it for the future.

I just could a bus as it was pulling out of the station and 20 minutes later I was in the city of Jesus's birth. From all the Arabic signs and Palestinian flags flying, it was clear that we were in the West Bank, but I hadn't even noticed that we went through a checkpoint since we hadn't stopped. When I got off the bus, I had no real idea where I was going so I followed a couple wearing backpacks up a street to the left.  It turns out "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem" isn't oh so little any more.  There were no signs indicating the direction of the Church of the Nativity so I just guessed that I was going the right way as I made my through the throngs of pedestrians milling around and shopping in the busy streets.  At one point the streets started to get a bit narrower so I started to be concerned I was actually going in the wrong direction. I realized I needed a map so I backtracked until I reached a hotel where I asked for directions. The receptionist let me know that I HAD been going the right way and even gave me a map in case I got lost.

About ten minutes later I was entering Manger Square (complete with ginormous Christmas Tree) and approaching the Church of the Nativity. To enter into the church you have to crawl through a tiny doorway, which apparently originally prevented the Crusaders and such from entering with their horses. I joined several busloads of African to wait on a line to get into the Grotto of the Nativity where Jesus was supposedly born. There was quite a bit of jockeying for position, especially when we finally made it into the grotto. There were about four or five Italian tourists who apparently felt that they didn't have to wait in the same line as everyone else so they found a way to push themselves ahead. I finally got my own chance to touch the star where Jesus apparently popped out, but I have no idea how anyone can prove that this was the actual spot where it happened (even though the church has been around since 327.) After emerging from the grotto I walked over to The Church of Saint Catherine and down into a larger grotto with various altars and chapels, including the chapel where Saint Jerome supposedly translated the bible into Latin. In one of the chapels, a priest was giving a sermon in English so I stood outside the door and listened for a little while. It was uplifting to hear his message in that holy place so soon after Christmas. On my way out of the church I passed a nice, but crowded nativity scene in the courtyard, still standing from the recent Christmas celebrations.

After leaving the church, I stopped for a cup of tea at a shop right in Manger Square and then walked into the lobby of the Bethlehem Peace Center were there was a large model replica of the city. On my way back through the city streets I grabbed a falafel sandwich and then veered off the main street to go down a side street back. I later learned that I was walking on Star Street along with priests from Bethlehem process on Christmas Eve. However, since I went a different way back, I got a bit lost and had to ask for directions when I stopped for a bowl of ice cream. I found the spot without any difficulties and was able to catch a bus back to Jerusalem just as the sun was starting to set. On the return trip to the city, the bus did stop at a checkpoint and everyone had to get off. I realized that was I had assumed was a toll both was actually the border crossing. The guard didn't even look at inside my passport before waving me back on the bus. I guess that's one benefit of being American!