September 2007: I walked through the narrow stone pathways of the shuk, an unfortunately obvious tourist, my eyes wide to a culture so unfamiliar--a challenge as of yet unexamined, a small entrance into a life completely outside my own. The gritty stone architecture, the winding alleys leading to the Via Dolorosa, brought to mind vivid biblical imagery from mornings spent in Sunday School years ago. Funny how the only comparison I could find to the culture around me came from stories I'd heard as a child. I had no other access to this place, these people so unlike the Israeli images in the U.S. news. Eager shopkeepers brought us in, offered cold water and proud tours of their wares. Children ran through the streets alongside nuns and tourists, young women in jilbab and old men standing in shaded doorways.
Moving easily among the four quarters of the city, I noticed not only the striking differences in the smells, sights, and sounds of each distinct cultural enclave, but also the harmonious way in which the boundaries collided, crossed, blurred, and overlapped with one another. Inside the walls of the shuk, four divergent cultures converged and coexisted, worked around each other and even in conjunction with one another.
Our trip was short, certainly not long enough for me to see the country with the eyes of anything more than a tourist, but it still took us far into the corners of this tiny nation we'd come to visit. In the north, the Roman ruins and the impossibly blue sea dominate the landscape. A trip down into the underground sea caverns at the north border could be a beautiful Mediterranean vacation stop until you emerge to the sight of the Lebanese border, a brief reminder that this place is haunted by the ever-vigilant ghosts of war. A trip through Haifa is a balmy afternoon drive until a collapsed roof unavoidably conjures the possibility that it wasn't simply a tree that fell on this house, but rather, a bomb. Reminders of war temper the beauty of the land, never far from consciousness, never long forgotten or overlooked.
On the way south, the reminders become more overt, intentionally unmistakable. As we drove through Bedouin territory with the sides of the road lined with the temporary settlements of traditional Arabic nomads, red signs began to dot the landscape, their white writing warning travelers in three languages not to enter the militarized zone beyond the roadside. Soldiers manned a large weapon tracking cars and buses, tourists and locals, passing through a border check on the road to the Dead Sea. Everywhere, it seemed, small reality checks kept us reigned in, aware of the truth which lay just beyond the towering red rock peaks.
Israel is a small country, too compact to hide its political skeletons, too close to its war to separate itself from the struggle. But there is something to be taken away from all this proximity, from the difficult history and convergence of cultures that make up this mish-mash of people. I won't venture to draw a conclusion on what it all means, but as I traveled from my own 'war-torn' country into theirs, I couldn't help but wonder which of us had a better chance at peace in the long run. I couldn't help but know that this was a place which would stick with me for a long time to come.
Moving easily among the four quarters of the city, I noticed not only the striking differences in the smells, sights, and sounds of each distinct cultural enclave, but also the harmonious way in which the boundaries collided, crossed, blurred, and overlapped with one another. Inside the walls of the shuk, four divergent cultures converged and coexisted, worked around each other and even in conjunction with one another.
Our trip was short, certainly not long enough for me to see the country with the eyes of anything more than a tourist, but it still took us far into the corners of this tiny nation we'd come to visit. In the north, the Roman ruins and the impossibly blue sea dominate the landscape. A trip down into the underground sea caverns at the north border could be a beautiful Mediterranean vacation stop until you emerge to the sight of the Lebanese border, a brief reminder that this place is haunted by the ever-vigilant ghosts of war. A trip through Haifa is a balmy afternoon drive until a collapsed roof unavoidably conjures the possibility that it wasn't simply a tree that fell on this house, but rather, a bomb. Reminders of war temper the beauty of the land, never far from consciousness, never long forgotten or overlooked.
On the way south, the reminders become more overt, intentionally unmistakable. As we drove through Bedouin territory with the sides of the road lined with the temporary settlements of traditional Arabic nomads, red signs began to dot the landscape, their white writing warning travelers in three languages not to enter the militarized zone beyond the roadside. Soldiers manned a large weapon tracking cars and buses, tourists and locals, passing through a border check on the road to the Dead Sea. Everywhere, it seemed, small reality checks kept us reigned in, aware of the truth which lay just beyond the towering red rock peaks.
Israel is a small country, too compact to hide its political skeletons, too close to its war to separate itself from the struggle. But there is something to be taken away from all this proximity, from the difficult history and convergence of cultures that make up this mish-mash of people. I won't venture to draw a conclusion on what it all means, but as I traveled from my own 'war-torn' country into theirs, I couldn't help but wonder which of us had a better chance at peace in the long run. I couldn't help but know that this was a place which would stick with me for a long time to come.
Early morning, Jerusalem shuk
Shopkeeper, Armenian Quarter
A Station of the Cross
Jilbab seen through entrance to a station of the cross
Rooftop View, City of Jerusalem
Western Wall, photographed from above
Small boy running, Muslim Quarter
Shopkeeper shows off his rugs, Muslim Quarter
Traditional veil
Christ's tomb
Invited for a quick rest and tour of shop, Armenian Quarter
On the way north towards Haifa
Arabic Market in the north, towards Lebanese border
Excavated Roman ruins
Southern Israel, near Dead Sea. Red warning signs demarcate the border of the militarized zone.
Temporary Bedouin settlement along roadside
No comments:
Post a Comment