faces of jerusalem

today is only my third full day in israel, and already i feel behind in sharing the story of my experience.  i am staying at the hebron hostel (check out the stone work of the room in the second photo on the link -- one of the many reasons i like this place; it also happens to be the actual room i'm staying in) in the middle of the muslim quarter in the old city of jerusalem.  the irony is that when i stayed in the christian quarter, i was awakened by the muslim call to prayer; now, i am awakened by the deep tones of reverberating church bells and a braying donkey.

having established a base of sorts has helped ease my somewhat rocky transition.  i have learned through experience that my "entry day" to any foreign country knocks me for a bit of a loop as i try to wrap my head around my new surroundings.  while i realize that i am simply in a different place that has regular people doing regular things, the language barrier and lack of any sense of direction somehow makes even normal activities require more brain power and therefore become more draining.  that, coupled with the fact that i've been waking up each morning around 5:30 a.m. and haven't had any caffeine until a few hours ago has made for a sometimes droopy, sometimes hazy experience.

fortunately, i woke early enough on my first day here to walk around the corridors of the old city before any of the storefronts opened.  i watched as the area transformed into a myriad of shops, the passageways shrinking as the shop keepers laid out their wares and hung items from the archways.  the many signs that hang in the middle of the corridors and landmarks i was using to mark my way became much more difficult to find as they were now hidden by merchandise.

the muslim quarter has to be my favorite section for the everyday life of the old city -- it is the most crowded by far and is teeming with activity at all hours of the day.  i could sit in a single spot for hours, simply to watch the variety of people that come by.  the souk, or market, centered around the damascus gate, spreads out along the roads leading further into the old city; the via dolorosa (latin for "way of grief"; said to be the path jesus walked to his crucifixion) cuts through it and leads to the christian quarter; and wonderful gems are to be found within it, such as the austrian hospice, the roof of which happens to be a great place to catch the sunset and whose comfy couches offer a relaxing place to take a break from the crowds.

i have had noticeably more conversations with palestinians than israelis in my initial 48 hours.  while it seems that the arab shopkeepers are simply doing their best to make a living, their statement of "welcome" along with an invitation to "come in to have a look" quickly turns into an invitation to sit down and talk, most times accompanied by a cup of nana tea (made from a large-leafed mint plant that is refreshingly spicy).  most times, the conversations turns political (how could it not?).  in my experience, palestinians have been eager to engage in conversation.  

i have met... 

a man who runs a hostel because he has not been able to get a better job within jerusalem despite holding a political science degree from an american university.  he was born in east jerusalem before the six day war and has a great deal of bitterness toward jordan (who he blames for his father's death), israel (for stealing the land of his family), and the u.s. (where he experienced racist views and actions while at school).  a line that stands out from our conversation entailed "when it comes to reaching a solution, you better put your religion on a shelf."  he showed me his palestinian refugee card and explained its significance to him: "if there ever is a peace agreement, this will grant me reparations for what my family and i have lost, and this [he holds up the tiny sheet of paper that is normally folded in two and carried in his wallet] is my hope and my only proof."  two israelis joined in our conversation -- one of whom had a clearly pro-Israeli outlook and the other who was sympathetic to the palestinian cause.  needless to say, the conversation became noticeably more heated (and more fascinating) and resulted in my being informed of an open shabbat invitation given by a rabbi at the western wall each saturday around 1:00 p.m. following kiddish that i hope to check out while i'm here.

abdul, a shop keeper who attempted to entice passersby to smell (and buy) the frankincense burning on the small table outside his shop.  he "likes americans because they speak from their heart" and said that in every day activities it is easy living with the israelis in jerusalem.  still, he shared that he sends his son to a christian school despite being muslim because he doesn't want his son to grow up only with other muslim children and developing a hatred toward israelis:  "he sees many bad things. he is good; i don't want to be sleeping and wake up to find out that he has gone and blown himself up."

adnan, a shop keeper who can correctly identify the nationality of almost every individual that walks past his store and who was arrested at the age of 15, spending five months in jail for trying to walk to school when the IDF had imposed a curfew: "someday i will make it out of here.  move to america or sweden.  there is no hope here, no future.  not one day in my life can i say i have been truly happy.  that is the occupation.  that is what it does to us."

a shop keeper who pointed out his father to me from others in the crowd and stated that his family has lived in the same house on via dolorosa just around the corner from his current storefront for the past 90 years.  he said that business is not so good because no one can come in from bethlehem, hebron, ramallah to shop and that is how he experiences the occupation.  yet "we have hope that things will change.  the wall in germany, it came down; the oppression in south africa, the apartheid, has ended.  we hope that some day, too, this will come to an end.  with god it is possible; not the israeli government, but with god."

these palestinians possess a warmth that is tangible despite their harried experiences.  they seem to be a rather tolerant people overall and go about their day in an ordinary fashion.  they still find ways to smile and are engaging storytellers.  and i have only been granted a small sliver of who they are and what they have made of this life.