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Mohamad, Intisar, Salam, Sima, Firas, and Rola took Jake, Dylan, and me on a visit to the Old City of Jerusalem today. We entered Damascus Gate, found our way to the Holy Sepulcher, ate a good hummus brunch at Salam’s father’s restaurant, went to the Western Wall, failed in two attempts to go to the Al-Aqsa Mosque, then exited Damascus Gate to Sima’s father’s restaurant immediately across the street and attempted to eat as much as possible of the food generously proffered to us, still full as we were from the meal only a few hours before.

For most if not all of our young Palestinian guides for the day, this was their first visit to the Western Wall, having either been too scared of the security or actually denied entrance in the past. They were extremely nervous going in. Once inside, they seemed generally unimpressed. Compared to the pictures I’ve seen of the Muslim structures above, I can understand why. The Wall is just a wall. An old wall. One of the girls commented that she was expecting inscriptions or carvings, but there were none to see. Nor were there any costumed Jews scampering about; midday on Shabbat is not a time for davening at the Wall.

If they were wary of the Israeli police guarding the Wall, our students were all too eager to argue with the Israeli police guarding the Temple Mount. The girls pulled hair and arm coverings out of their bags, outfitted themselves, and we made two separate approaches. Both times the three of us teachers were rejected on the grounds that we could not prove we were Muslim. No arguments from the students on our behalf could sway the opinion of the policemen. There are designated weekday hours for tourists; at all other times, and on weekends, the place is closed to non-Muslims. Perhaps another time… although I don’t think I would go there alone even during tourist hours.

On every leg of our journey, stores were entered, items haggled for, and prices agreed upon. The press of the Old City shops does little for me, but I can understand the excitement. If you want a cheap price, have a good eye for stuff that won’t break, and you’re willing to work for that price, the Old City is the place to be. To be sure, the threat that you’ll leave and find another shop down the street that has what you want is not an empty one.

After our second meal I left the company for our apartment and my lecture preparation. They continued on to other minor adventures, spending a number of unintended hours held captive by the disablingly unbounded hospitality and generosity of one pair of Palestinian parents. I completed my slides on the Swing Event Model. And now I ought to sleep.

maxg

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