First visit to Jerusalem

Saturday morning, Christina, Wendy and I headed out for the Old City.

Lucky for me, Christina and Wendy are old Jerusalem veterans, so I got a first rate personal tour. The excuse for our Jerusalem trip was Christina's need to pick up some French books from an Arab bookstore, so we parked in an Arab neighborhood outside the Damascus Gate. Arabic was spoken and heard all around, and the majority of the cars were conspicuously lacking the IL and Israeli flag that adorns Israeli license plates.

We entered the city through the Damascus Gate into the Arab quarter, which was an overwhelming amorphous mass of push-and-shove. Purses were tucked tightly under vigilant fingers and I kept a careful eye out for my buddies. Luckily, these two blondies stuck out clearly.

Damascus Gate.

One of many pawning her wares.

Swept along in the sea.

I look different.

More shopping in the Arab quarter.

Making our way to the Christian quarter.

Entrance to a church off an alleyway.

Alleys en route to the Jewish quarter lined with shops.

Sign for the Western Wall.

Unfortunately, because it was Shabbat, no one was allowed to take pictures. Entrance to the Western Wall area required airport-level security complete with metal detector and x-ray scan. Inside the Western Wall grounds, guards roamed to catch any rebel photographers and scantily-clad women. Women showing too much skin were given a cape/apron to put over their bare shoulders. The Western Wall itself is segregated by sex, the men's section allotted 2/3rds of the wall space. We stood outside of the barricaded prayer area watching people whisper their prayers to the wall and stick paper notes in the wall's crevices. I watched for 15 minutes to catch a devout worshipper shuffle backwards the entire 75-ish meters out of the prayer area.

Boys in boxes.

More labyrinthine alleys.

Back in the Arab quarter.


Shopping.

The store of Christina's go-to guy.

I bought this wall hanging.

I was always trailing behind doing my very best gawking and photo-taking.

Not a restaurant. Kinda restaurant.

Back outside the walls of the Old City.

Back at Damascus Gate.

On our way home from Jerusalem, we stopped by the moshav where Wendy lived for eight months. A moshav is a cooperative agriculture settlement where they pool their labor and resources. However, unlike a kibbutz, the farms on a moshav are individually owned. On Wendy's moshav, residents are allowed to work outside the settlement, provided they contribute their earnings.

Taking the tour.

The moshav is on top of a hill just outside Jerusalem.
Very peaceful. Beautiful view.