Jerusalem

At first, when I arrived, the bus dropped me off and I had to walk a bit to get internet access and book a hostel. A celebration was going on: forty years of Israel "re-unifying" Jerusalem, so there were was a parade and plenty of people out on the streets. I worried that Jerusalem had gone modern, that its history had been almost completely buried in cafes and parks. Then I got to the Old City.

And yes, the old Jerusalem is still here, breathing quietly in walls built by Suleyman the Magnificent during Turkish rule. (He was so angry that the architects had left David's Tomb outside the new walls that he put their heads outside the walls as well.) The spice market makes my eyes water. A shopkeeper -- hoping to pawn off some Persian rugs -- made me a cup of sage tea because I told him my stomach was bothering me. Hebrew, Arabic, and English come at me from all angles. I'm staying at the Citadel Hostel, which is a truly mazelike, four-story place with low, cavernous ceilings; I don't mind hitting my head when I get to hang out in such an interesting building. I am surrounded by jews, muslims, and christians of many different sects. (Even met a German girl who was raised Pentecostal and spoke in tongues at the age of five!)

On the other side of things, we occassionally watch Al-Jazeera, and the news of fighting is more relevant when you know it's on the southern border of Israel. Packs of soldiers from the settlements roamed around yesterday, to help serve as security for the celebration; but these are kids, just eighteen years old, strolling with assault rifles. Barbed wire tops the wall outside my hostel. And this, too, is the old Jerusalem.