This was a hectic and busy day and we covered much territory. Having a rental car made life infinitely easier.
We returned to the Old City, primarily for the purpose of visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the supposed location of the death of our Lord the Jesus Christ. It seemed wiser to attempt to visit non-Jewish sites, given that Sukkhot had rendered much of the city, especially the Jewish population, closed.
We parked near the Western Wall, and walked again through the shops. It appears that my previous observation that all of the visitors to Jerusalem are extremely religious Jews was somewhat inaccurate. Yesterday we saw all types of visitors, Christians, non-religious Jews, etc., which I suppose was somewhat comforting.
We walked along the Via Dolorosa (Jesus' supposed path to his death, although there isn't much historical support for its mapped location), and stopped for a moment at a convent memorializing the location of his flagellation. We then spent about 20-25 minutes lost in the city, asking for directions, most of which were not helpful (surprise -- NO ONE GIVES GOOD DIRECTIONS HERE!), saw Arab children running around and attempted to avoid the sun. I got hungry, so we stopped for falafel sandwiches and diet coke (both of which I can't seem to get enough of).
[EDIT, October 3, 2010: I forgot to mention this when I first drafted this. After walking around the Via Dolorosa, we stopped again at the Western Wall, once again dividing up by gender, as it would somehow offend the male portion of the Western Wall to have a woman present, and presumably the converse is true for the women's portion. Both portions are more or less identical, except the men's side has access to a cave that allows access to even MORE of the Western Wall. I walked into this cave, and a praying guy with a beard stopped me and told me that there was a mitzvah I had to do for Sukkhot. He directed me to another guy with a beard, standing at a lectern, who unlike the Lithuanian who guided me in wrapping tefillin, looked at me suspiciously. He asked where I was from ("U.S.A.") and whether I was Jewish ("Yes") and his eyes suddenly lit up. He handed me the etrog and the lulav, and the other leaves that form that bundle that Jews wave around during Sukkhot, and guided me in prayer and the waving around of this bundle. I probably hadn't done that since Hebrew school.]
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre was, to me, different from most of the churches I have visited on this trip in that most of the people there were extremely psyched about the holiness of the site, kissing relics, lighting candles, praying. Priests with long beards, grim looking nuns, people waiting in long lines to get close to particular items which we were not able to identify. Incense smoke was everywhere, so we enjoyed that strong "church smell", which I do like. It was dark, and very, very old feeling -- I think it was built in the 4th century. The people watching was truly excellent, I must say. Unfortunately, our discreetly taken photographs of praying Christians are all on my non-Blackberry camera so will not be shared quite yet. We leaned against a wall to avoid the sun, and agreed that while we would have liked to take the walk along the city walls, the estimated 3 hours were longer than we had alotted, and that our time would be better spent visiting the old city of Bethlehem (It was not until this trip that I realized that Bethlehem was actually "Beit Lechem" (בֵּית לֶחֶם) or "City of Bread" -- I noticed this when I read the Hebrew letters for the first time), the birthplace of Jesus.
Thus, we saw both Jesus' supposed birthplace and deathplace all within one day.
We followed the city signs to Bethlehem (our map was useless) and passed through the fairly lax checkpoint into the Palestinian Authority (signs stating that Israeli citizens would not be permitted across). Much like crossing the border from San Isidro to Tijuana, the city terrain changed more or less dramatically immediately. However, observation: While the West Bank is of markedly lower economic status than Jerusalem, it was by no means what I would call a hellhole, it was at worst, kind of "run down" and "really crowded," and definitely not "very nice".
The main tourist spot for American tourists is the Church of the Nativity, one of the oldest continuously operating churchs in the world (present structure built in 565), and above the site where Jesus is claimed to have been born. We got most definitely lost driving around Bethlehem trying to find it. We'd find a sign pointing to the church, but then approach yet another junction with no guiding sign. We drove all over town, past poor children running around begging for money, women dressed in relatively attractive hijabs (although some were dressed in a more or less western style), and men mostly in t-shirts and jeans (although some had the white scarf on the head with a band wrapped around), a surprising number of English language signs. Bethlehem is a hilly city, so again, I was glad to be in a car as we went up and down, darting around aggressive taxis and buses, as well as the honking horns of private citizens. All and all a wild experience.
But we found the church, but not before walking to a small grotto built during the crusades, where we found a crowd of (Russians?) praying to an icon of sorts. Outside, we asked for directions from a Spanish tour group, who were indeed helpful.
We darted past tour guides attempting to offer us their (unnecessary and not free services), and finally made it into the church, through the tiny, tiny door (5 feet tall maybe?) opening into the old, colonnaded nave, a long line of Christian tourists waiting in line for (what appeared to be) communion. The ceiling was wooded, and the floor stone, although a few spots of the floor opened to the mosaiced design that must have once covered it in past (Byzantine?) days. The line to visit the actual supposed birthplace was long, but we were informed by a security guard that because we were only 2, we could bypass it. Which we did, and walked the steps down to the level beneath the altar with the marked holy spots. We took some pictures of other tourists (monks, priests, hokey white bread American types, Latin American Catholics) getting super excited about being there. Which I suppose made me excited too, vicariously, or something like that.
After emerging from below, and exiting the church (a very friendly Spanish speaking lady asked me to take a photograph of her in the tiny door, which I gladly did), we walked through the Bethlehem square to a short row of falafal and kebab shops, one of which served us both chicken shwarma sandwiches wrapped in that tortilla type thing (for which I do not know the word), and filled with cucumber, hot sauce, tahini, etc. One of the best of this type of sandwhich I've ever had.
Then walked to the Bethlehem square and people watched for about 20 minutes. Watched little Palestinian children playing, holding each other's hands, young men in jeans trying to look cool, girls in hijabs (one with a full burka!). I noticed a priest and a monk attempting to take pictures of themselves together in front of the sites using the Myspace Photo technique of extending one's camera arm and offered to take a picture of them, both very jolly guys, who turned out to be from Serbia. In fact, I'll observe that the Christian tourists all seemed very happy to be there. There was no one that I was able to identify as a Jew.
We walked up what appeared to be a shopping street, built onto a hill, Palestinian men gawking, and the women ignoring us, children and old men in shops attempting to lure us into purchasing scarves or other trinkets. I would have taken pictures of it all, but it seemed potentially inappropriate. We walked down a different street, back to the main square and got back in the car.
Getting back to Jerusalem was slightly more difficult than getting to Bethlehem had been, mostly due to poor signage, and the very, very useless advice given to us by the folks we asked along the way. Even worse was when we finally arrived, relieved at an Israeli checkpoint, happy to finally be back and were told that because we were not Israeli citizens, could not use this checkpoint and would have to return to the Palestinian Authority and use another checkpoint. Also, the guy who told us this didn't know the directions to this other checkpoint. Despite his lack of helpfulness, we found it on our own, were waved through without any inspection and followed signs back to our hotel. In summary (in case I haven't made it clear -- I am afraid sometimes that when I explain the difficulties travel involves, I'm not making clear enough how rewarding these activities all are), the trip to Bethlehem was amazing, a window into some very different culture, met some very friendly people, ate great food, great opportunity to compare culture with Jerusalem, and the Nativity Church was pretty cool itself, even if the historical basis for its location is most likely (in my opinion) bogus. It was built in the 6th century anyway, so I'm not complaining!
After this long day, we opted against going out again in Jerusalem and ate dinner at Polly, the restaurant attached to the Little House in Bakah hotel. Although Sukkhot was technically over, we were seated in the outdoor Sukkah (I don't know if I've ever had dinner in one before). I was the only guy there not wearing a yarmulke. I had a pretty good, although not amazing spaghetti arrabiata, with a pretty good, although not amazing Gold Star beer (Israeli). Dinner was this pear and ice cream thing. This was followed by a drink at the Polly bar, where we conversed with the owner, a very friendly bald Jerusalemite, with 4 kids. He explained that the restaurant was a milk restaurant because it would be too much effort to have two kitchens, and that he though cats were like squirrels.
Sarah Mclachlan -- O Little Town of Bethlehem
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre was, to me, different from most of the churches I have visited on this trip in that most of the people there were extremely psyched about the holiness of the site, kissing relics, lighting candles, praying. Priests with long beards, grim looking nuns, people waiting in long lines to get close to particular items which we were not able to identify. Incense smoke was everywhere, so we enjoyed that strong "church smell", which I do like. It was dark, and very, very old feeling -- I think it was built in the 4th century. The people watching was truly excellent, I must say. Unfortunately, our discreetly taken photographs of praying Christians are all on my non-Blackberry camera so will not be shared quite yet. We leaned against a wall to avoid the sun, and agreed that while we would have liked to take the walk along the city walls, the estimated 3 hours were longer than we had alotted, and that our time would be better spent visiting the old city of Bethlehem (It was not until this trip that I realized that Bethlehem was actually "Beit Lechem" (בֵּית לֶחֶם) or "City of Bread" -- I noticed this when I read the Hebrew letters for the first time), the birthplace of Jesus.
Thus, we saw both Jesus' supposed birthplace and deathplace all within one day.
We followed the city signs to Bethlehem (our map was useless) and passed through the fairly lax checkpoint into the Palestinian Authority (signs stating that Israeli citizens would not be permitted across). Much like crossing the border from San Isidro to Tijuana, the city terrain changed more or less dramatically immediately. However, observation: While the West Bank is of markedly lower economic status than Jerusalem, it was by no means what I would call a hellhole, it was at worst, kind of "run down" and "really crowded," and definitely not "very nice".
The main tourist spot for American tourists is the Church of the Nativity, one of the oldest continuously operating churchs in the world (present structure built in 565), and above the site where Jesus is claimed to have been born. We got most definitely lost driving around Bethlehem trying to find it. We'd find a sign pointing to the church, but then approach yet another junction with no guiding sign. We drove all over town, past poor children running around begging for money, women dressed in relatively attractive hijabs (although some were dressed in a more or less western style), and men mostly in t-shirts and jeans (although some had the white scarf on the head with a band wrapped around), a surprising number of English language signs. Bethlehem is a hilly city, so again, I was glad to be in a car as we went up and down, darting around aggressive taxis and buses, as well as the honking horns of private citizens. All and all a wild experience.
But we found the church, but not before walking to a small grotto built during the crusades, where we found a crowd of (Russians?) praying to an icon of sorts. Outside, we asked for directions from a Spanish tour group, who were indeed helpful.
We darted past tour guides attempting to offer us their (unnecessary and not free services), and finally made it into the church, through the tiny, tiny door (5 feet tall maybe?) opening into the old, colonnaded nave, a long line of Christian tourists waiting in line for (what appeared to be) communion. The ceiling was wooded, and the floor stone, although a few spots of the floor opened to the mosaiced design that must have once covered it in past (Byzantine?) days. The line to visit the actual supposed birthplace was long, but we were informed by a security guard that because we were only 2, we could bypass it. Which we did, and walked the steps down to the level beneath the altar with the marked holy spots. We took some pictures of other tourists (monks, priests, hokey white bread American types, Latin American Catholics) getting super excited about being there. Which I suppose made me excited too, vicariously, or something like that.
After emerging from below, and exiting the church (a very friendly Spanish speaking lady asked me to take a photograph of her in the tiny door, which I gladly did), we walked through the Bethlehem square to a short row of falafal and kebab shops, one of which served us both chicken shwarma sandwiches wrapped in that tortilla type thing (for which I do not know the word), and filled with cucumber, hot sauce, tahini, etc. One of the best of this type of sandwhich I've ever had.
Then walked to the Bethlehem square and people watched for about 20 minutes. Watched little Palestinian children playing, holding each other's hands, young men in jeans trying to look cool, girls in hijabs (one with a full burka!). I noticed a priest and a monk attempting to take pictures of themselves together in front of the sites using the Myspace Photo technique of extending one's camera arm and offered to take a picture of them, both very jolly guys, who turned out to be from Serbia. In fact, I'll observe that the Christian tourists all seemed very happy to be there. There was no one that I was able to identify as a Jew.
We walked up what appeared to be a shopping street, built onto a hill, Palestinian men gawking, and the women ignoring us, children and old men in shops attempting to lure us into purchasing scarves or other trinkets. I would have taken pictures of it all, but it seemed potentially inappropriate. We walked down a different street, back to the main square and got back in the car.
Getting back to Jerusalem was slightly more difficult than getting to Bethlehem had been, mostly due to poor signage, and the very, very useless advice given to us by the folks we asked along the way. Even worse was when we finally arrived, relieved at an Israeli checkpoint, happy to finally be back and were told that because we were not Israeli citizens, could not use this checkpoint and would have to return to the Palestinian Authority and use another checkpoint. Also, the guy who told us this didn't know the directions to this other checkpoint. Despite his lack of helpfulness, we found it on our own, were waved through without any inspection and followed signs back to our hotel. In summary (in case I haven't made it clear -- I am afraid sometimes that when I explain the difficulties travel involves, I'm not making clear enough how rewarding these activities all are), the trip to Bethlehem was amazing, a window into some very different culture, met some very friendly people, ate great food, great opportunity to compare culture with Jerusalem, and the Nativity Church was pretty cool itself, even if the historical basis for its location is most likely (in my opinion) bogus. It was built in the 6th century anyway, so I'm not complaining!
After this long day, we opted against going out again in Jerusalem and ate dinner at Polly, the restaurant attached to the Little House in Bakah hotel. Although Sukkhot was technically over, we were seated in the outdoor Sukkah (I don't know if I've ever had dinner in one before). I was the only guy there not wearing a yarmulke. I had a pretty good, although not amazing spaghetti arrabiata, with a pretty good, although not amazing Gold Star beer (Israeli). Dinner was this pear and ice cream thing. This was followed by a drink at the Polly bar, where we conversed with the owner, a very friendly bald Jerusalemite, with 4 kids. He explained that the restaurant was a milk restaurant because it would be too much effort to have two kitchens, and that he though cats were like squirrels.
Sarah Mclachlan -- O Little Town of Bethlehem
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