Lila Tov to Israel

(Note added 6/1/14:  no, we are not back in Israel.  We are actually heading off to another house trade on June 9 - to Ireland - and in getting ready to update blog, noticed that this post was inactive and not showing on the blog - so just reposting it)

"Lila Tov" means "good night" - so here you see us in the courtyard next to my aunt and uncles' home as we head out for our last dinner and say our good night to Israel. Just like there are many different ways to write the English pronunciation of Hebrew, there are other ways to spell out "Lila" tov, but as a kid I always assumed it was spelled this way because my mom's name is Lila. So we will stick with it!

Since our trip to Dead Sea/Masada, we have mostly spent time reading, writing, relaxing, and enjoying getting to know our Jerusalem cousins.

On Friday afternoon Marc's oldest son, Zalman, came to visit along with his wife Rivi. They were just married in January. They were going to be spending Shabbat with her family, so this was our one chance to see them. She doesn't speak any English, but Zalman was good about translating so we felt we got to know her a bit.

As sundown approached, we EASILY hailed a cab (we have switched to a different street and they seem less snarky) who actually offered to use the meter, and headed up to Marc's. The whole family is back from vacation, so we got to see/meet everybody, of course with that big of a family it was hard to get everybody in the same place at once to get a photo (and have to do it all before sundown). So bear with us as we share family photos!

Here is Jim, with Alexander and Shalom Simcha, who is the 3 year old "baby" of the family. He is non-stop chatter and energy and kept us entertained.

Jim was to join Marc and Alexander again at the Western Wall, but managed to snap this photo before they dashed off to catch a cab.

Adding in another of his kids that we hadn't yet seen - Ashira, age 16. She is going to be a junior in high school, is a gentle soul, and loved to hear all us adults share family stories and memories.

While the men were gone, Marc's wife (Sarah Batya) and I sat on the back porch with the lovely evening breeze and had a great chat. We have met a few times over the years, but always in a bigger family gathering, so we realized we had never really had a conversation. We made good use of the time!

After the men returned, we had a wonderful dinner, and like we did last Friday evening, walked home.

We returned mid-day on Saturday to spend the day/evening. More wonderful food and conversation. We then joined Alexander and the younger three on a walk through the "forest" area behind their house, which included a few play structures. After learning several new board games, it was time for another meal. The two youngest went on to bed and the rest of us enjoyed old memories, political/philisophical conversations, and mostly created a lot of new memories.

The rest of the photos are taken after sundown on Saturday. This is me and Sarah Batya

Mom and girls

And all of us except the two little ones (who were long ago asleep at this point)

Marc, both last week and this week, kept trying to figure out things like when did he first meet Jim, when did he first meet our boys, when did we every sit down the four of us. The conclusion we finally came to is: he was away at college when we got married and after college he moved to Israel. So our adult contact as cousins is ancient. It really felt like we were starting from scratch getting to know each other - but with a common thread of growing up memories. It was so special to have this amount of time to get caught up and to know his whole family.

So today, Sunday, was our final day as we leave for the airport tomorrow morning at 8:30 a.m. The thought of seeing one more ancient ruin, or putting on a museum headset, or climbing steps seemed much too overwhelming. We opted to relax at the house this morning (which afforded Jim the time to finish what he has been writing about Jerusalem), and then went for a walk through Yemin Moshe, the first neighborhood that was built outside of the walls of the Old City.

We started out walking through a park area with outdoor sculptures.

And then when where we least expected it - an ancient ruin! Turns out it is Herod's Family Tomb (he was buried someplace else) - you can see the round stone that would have been rolled in front of the entrance.

But then we were back to modern sculptures

And fountains.

This area was created by a rich British-Jewish philanthropist, Sir Moses Montefiore. He had been so horrified by the conditions inside the Old City that he wanted to build an improved area for the Jews. He included this windmill to make the area self-sufficient, but apparently there wasn't enough wind to make a go of it.

His first project was this "Dwellings of Tranquility" - a communal block of 16 apartments, completed in 1860. This was the area I mentioned in our post from the Old City - nobody wanted to leave the security of the walled city so he had to offer it for free, and even with that the residents would sneak back into the walled city at night.

We finished up our walk exploring the charming streets

and colorful gardens.

We had a lovely dinner at an outdoor (of course) cafe and talked about the amazing month we have had. We have learned so much about the history and people of this country. And now have a personal experience to put what we hear in the news into perspective. So many special moments and memories.

It has been 30 days; 1257 photos taken; 274 snippets of videos on the flip camera; all these blog entries; tired bodies and feet all add up to a great trip! But next summer we REALLY need to re-do our master bath!! Unless...

Anyway, I am ready to hit "publish post" so I can finish packing and go to bed.

So "Lila Tov" from Israel.

Love,

Lisa and Jim

Commentary from Jim

Note: what follows is a commentary from Jim about the complexities of this place. He asks that you be sure to read both parts.

I Hate Jerusalem

I hate Jerusalem. It disturbs me. It sickens my very being. Touring here is an immersion into centuries of cruelty, violence and bloodshed. Perhaps not unlike other major cities we have visited but here the history is palpable and unyielding. The perpetual cycle of death/destruction and reclamation/restoration makes living in the moment seem unreal and tenuous. Any period of tranquility is mortgaged in blood; the next payment is always due.

I’m not even sure which Jerusalem I hate: Old City, New City, West, East, Muslim Quarter, Jewish Quarter, Christian Quarter? It’s many divisions symbolic of the kind of fractured spirit that permits the abdication of moral responsibility and fosters righteous, self-serving violence. I lay no fault nor assign any blame. I see people unable to completely free themselves from their destructive heritage.

People go about their daily routine, as they should. For me, the tragedy, sadness and mayhem that both predates and threatens this moment is unbearable. The intrusion of visions and voices, cries and screams from the past flood my conscious. I am sure that if I were a resident I would find some way to filter or neutralize the impact of Jerusalem’s brutal past on my psyche. I am equally sure that its toxicity could not help but seep into and alter my mind, mood and manner. As a visitor I have the luxury of outrage and contempt. I risk exposure but am able to return to the safety of my suburban life (deadly in its own way) where brutality is limited to schoolyard brawls and overwrought soccer battlefields. I fear, however, the exposure may have been too great.

I find nothing sacred or holy about a land that spawns brutality and annihilation. It is impossible to ignore the heinous acts committed in the name of religion. No church or mosque or synagogue can eradicate the blood spilt for its foundation. Architecture and art are monuments to belief systems that value land over life.

I have a prayer for this city but no god to pray to for god has been hijacked by those who use him as artillery in a war, not of their creation, but of their perpetuation. God has been turned from a plowshare into a sword, devastating the land rather than cultivating it. I pray that all who live on this-or-that boundary find a way to stop the seepage of a brutal past into their own lives. The only boundary that should exist is the one that permanently seals off the past in order to secure the future.

I Love Jerusalem

I love Jerusalem. I love Jerusalem much the way one loves a charming, intelligent, disturbed-but-stable relative. Despite erratic past behavior, one can enjoy their company, delight in their eccentricities and marvel at their gifts, all the while nursing a slight uneasiness. My uneasiness has nothing to due with safety or security. I admit that there have been times, while strolling down Jaffa St, touring a museum or watching a crowded bus pass by, that I’ve imagined a devastating explosion. However, I also imagine, at times, Joan Rivers naked. Clearly my propensity for horrific scenes has nothing to do with security.

My uneasy relationship with this disturbed Jerusalem is that I can’t seem to get past the past. This is not a city that lacks for drama, nor does it lack for energy, vitality and creativity. What’s not to love?

I sit here, at an outdoor café enjoying my Balkan shashouka for breakfast. The city begins to wake. Storefronts open at a sluggish pace as if hung over from the previous night’s frenetic crowds of shoppers and diners and Birthright youths. A father strolls in with his young son taking the table next to mine. The boy’s legs dangle and swing freely from his seat, clearly in love with the man who brought him here. What I love about Jerusalem is the tapestry unfolding before me. Despite depictions of a disturbing past, it is beautiful and inspirational. Its elements are woven together to tell a story that is both tragic and heroic. Taken as a whole it is a work of art in progress crafted by a people whose strength and determination will not be denied.

During our visit to Hadassah Hospital to view the Chagall windows, the docent told the story of an attack on a medical convoy from Mt Scopus in 1948. In her telling she repeatedly used the phrase “…when WE were attacked.” WE not THEY. There was no question in her tone and timbre that the assault was as if she were there at the time. It occurred to me in that moment, this was not the first time while in Israel that I had heard the collective WE in reference to events outside of one’s personal experience. Perhaps that is not unique to the Jews, however, I would never say,
WE were attacked by the Japanese at Pearl Harbor!” Instead I would more likely say, “The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor” with no visceral attachment to the assault on my people and, by extension, an attack on me.

In Jerusalem, the epicenter of Jewish identity, a unified, collective, visceral identity is the heart that sustains life; all the more amazing given the centuries of Diaspora. Despite their far flung presence across many national boundaries the collective WE was maintained and brought back to this city in an ark of hope. It wasn’t until I joined Marc Friedman’s minyan at the Western Wall (Kotel) at the start of Shabbat that I began to understand how this phenomenon might have occurred.

While the others prayed in Hebrew, I read the English translation. Having been raised Catholic, I am more than familiar with parts of the old testament, particularly Psalms. As I read, I noticed, really noticed, the use of the collective WE throughout. It was Torah, common to all Jews in the Diaspora that sustained the Jewish identity. Having observed many times, over the years, the importance of the Torah in Jewish life, I now understood its significance.

The Jewish presence here in Jerusalem is the result of an impossible collective identity maintained over the ages. The voice of the Chagall docent not only relayed the details of the assault but, in an unmistakable tone, conveyed that WE will not be victimized. WE will not be left vulnerable to the capricious, if not hateful, conditions in other national venues. I love Jerusalem because it is populated by people determined to move beyond past hardships and declare, “WE are a people. What is done to one is done to all.” I love Jerusalem because it has led the way, for other races, ethnicities and belief systems to sustain their own collective identities in the face of those who would strip them of it.

I love Jerusalem because, in this moment, a surprisingly cool breeze crosses my face and a young Arab boy sits across from the man he loves the most and WE are having breakfast.

Local Boy Makes GOoD

If you are inclined, as am I, to seek spiritual guidance from American Idol winners, then Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus Take the Wheel” might be the perfect anthem for travelling through Galilee. I might suggest that Jesus retain Lisa as navigator since the roads have changed quite a bit in the last 2,000 years. As a general rule, having her by my side is an essential part of any journey, especially life’s!

The Holy Land is to my Christian self as Israel is to my American self. My Christian self being the more complicated. As an American, Israel is part of my consciousness. As a Christian the Holy Land is a part of my unconsciousness. Here resides the imagery, the symbolism, the stories and iconography that form an essential part of how I see the world and myself. To come to the Holy Land is to come face to face with that self. In that confrontation I do not seek validation but rather, understanding. I do not seek ecstatic/joyful affirmation of my religious heritage but seek opportunity to reflect on and revise. Other pilgrims here weep openly at locations that have intense meaning for them. Others chant in open prayer the words of their faith. I have great respect for those who experience their faith in this way. I am even somewhat envious; wishing that all this land has to offer could have the same meaning, carry the same intensity for me. Is it a violation of the tenth commandment to covet just a touch of their soaring religious ecstasy in the hope that it might reconnect me to the religious stirrings of my youth? The truth is, much like the bipolar, I do miss the spiritual highs however I am no longer willing to suffer the dreaded lows of shame, guilt and fear of eternal damnation. Eschewing those highs and lows I’ve managed to sublimate their intensity. Tortured martyrdom has been replaced by social service (it pays more/hurts less); promise of the hereafter replaced by a love-filled and healthy here-and-now (if lucky maybe even a large in-home movie theater).

It is from this spiritual middle ground that I walk this holy ground. I approach it wanting to understand how events in this place over 2,000 years ago come to have such an impact on my being. I want to understand how a charismatic preacher, in the course of his three-year ministry around and about the Sea of Galilee, became the instigation for a religious phenomenon that bears his name, if not always his teachings.

Driving to Nazareth I had no expectation that Jesus’ boyhood town would yield any real clue of his life there. It was as we approached the town that I realized how this would all play out. There before us were the hills that surrounded Nazareth. The very same that Jesus could see from his home, could climb up and get lost in. Some accounts have Jesus hanging out at the synagogue. I prefer to imagine him playing in these hills. Clearly my search for roots was not going to be a “walk-where-Jesus-walked” trip. This would be a see-what Jesus-saw, feel the breeze-Jesus-felt experience. I would be feeling the same warmth emanating from the land as he felt. It would not be the sacred images or churches but the environs that would memorialize his presence and that would connect me to my religious roots. As we explored the sites in Galilee I felt as if I could encounter a real man named Jesus as he travelled around the lake, stopping at towns along its shores; leading conversations with the locals; explaining how his interpretation of the scriptures offers promise and hope to a people whose lives have been overrun by the powerful; expanding on the scriptures call for charity toward each other and faith that God will reward the righteous. While at Capernaum, the home of Peter, I hear the same lapping of the waves along the shore as Jesus approaches Peter and his brothers preparing to set out for the day’s catch. The locals are intrigued, some amused, some bemused as he talks. Women bring him food and water, flirting as they do. He invites the locals to join him for a hike up the surrounding hills that overlook the lake. They rest under one of the few oak trees where he tells them that they, not their overlords, shall inherit the earth and that it is the peacemakers who are truly blessed.

At Yardenet I entered the River Jordan at the same site as Jesus when his cousin John baptized him. As I stood in the reality of this water, images of my youth were washed away. Jesus was no longer a glowing, blue-eyed anglicized icon. In its place was a sweat-drenched, olive-skinned, middle-eastern Jew seeking out his cousin who had been preaching a similar if not more observant interpretation of scripture. Recognizing that Jesus was clearly the more articulate and charismatic of the two, John uttered, anachronistically, “ Yo dude. You totally have it over me. Go for it!” There is no opening of the sky nor light beaming from on high, no hovering of the Holy Spirit; just two men, standing in a river, having a moment that would set into motion a world altering chain of events. Standing in this spot I don’t feel ecstasy. I feel a sober and satisfying connection to real people and real events.

Galilee in its present form, more than Jerusalem, is the closest you can get to understanding the life of Jesus. Events that led to the spread of Christianity are complex and beyond the simplicity of his life. These events probably play a larger role in my upbringing but none of that matters now. Having experienced the essence of my Christian heritage makes all that followed irrelevant.

The "Lowest" Point of the Trip

So the lowest point was when I realized that none of what I had written showed on the previous post "Working Down the List" so that all you could see was a stream of photos, with no explanations. Although maybe you are getting tired of my commentary and preferred that... I promise that Jim will add more, hopefully today or tomorrow! Anyway, the mistake has been fixed - so please go back if you want references for all the photos!

It was really a great day (Wednesday) but it did take as to the "lowest" place on earth - the Dead Sea, with a first stop at Masada.

Just to back up a bit, as you can imagine, even though we had the cost savings of a house trade and staying at the home of relatives, this trip still involved so many details and so much planning. We have mentioned a bit about what it takes to prep for a house trade, even down to the coordinating of flights so that we don't overlap; all the purging and hiding of documents related to our finances and identify (and hoping we will remember the hiding places when we return next week). Adding in the "details" that came up this time (don't recall if I mentioned that while we were still in Haifa, our waterheater in Pleasanton stopped working, so we had to deal with that from afar - thank goodness for Skype).

With this trip seeming a little more complex to navigate, we decided to use some private tour guides, so all of that (other than getting Lior's name for Golan once we arrived) was done ahead of time. Except setting up how to go to the Dead Sea/Masada. Originally, we were thinking it would be great to see Masada at sunrise (think Grand Canyon at sunrise) and I did bring along the website info for a tour company that offered such. Lior also gave us a name, and I started corresponding with them as well. That option sounded more complicated as it would involve us having to rent a car (tour guides need an additional license to transport people, so most private guides don't do it), so I contacted the first company, but they only take a minimum of five people, so they said to contact them the day before and maybe they could add us to another group. We considered renting a car, but that would be a two day rental if we wanted to be there by sunrise, and there is no place to park here. So finally on Tuesday afternoon we were down to crunch time of needing to make a plan/decision. We even asked our nice (and here they are few and far between) cab driver en route to Yad Vashem how much he would charge for the day (1000 shekels) and he was willing to go for sunrise. As tempting (and cooler) the idea of going at sunrise was, in reality it would mean leaving around 3:00 a.m. and then taking the 45 minute hike up (no gondola at that hour) in still warm temps, and having to take the hike back down as well. Not that we are whining travelers, but at this point in the trip, and in our lives, we decided we had no need to prove to ourselves that we could do it, watched a video of Masada at sunrise on YouTube, and decided to tackle the day on our own. Fortunately all of the car rental companies are located nearby, so after our museum day on Tuesday, we headed over to Eldan Car Rental, and arranged for the max time in one day (pick up when they open at 8:00, and return before they close at 6:00 p.m.), printed out google map directions (we knew it would be a straight shot, but there was still the issue of getting to highway from center of Jerusalem). Wednesday it would be!

We celebrated our final planning decision by going out to dinner at a restaurant that looks out over the Old City. You can see the view of that

and of us.

Wednesday morning we loaded up what we needed for the day (lots of water to manage the heat of the mostly shadeless Masada, and then swimsuits/towels for our Dead Sea floating) and arrived at Eldan when they opened. Let me comment that Israel is not known for its "service" - I should qualify, they are well known for their military service, we see evidence of that everywhere we go. They are not known for their "customer" service. So even though we had booked everything the day before and were assured the car would be ready at opening...not so much. We finally got out of there at 8:30. But we successfully got ourselves up to highway one, and on the other side of the tunnel we were in the Negev Desert. How quick you go from busy Jerusalem to a barren expanse.

Because we were on the clock to get the car back in time, we didn't stop along the way to take photos, but very interesting. Also politically interesting as it is a drive through the West Bank, another place I figured we would not be going. I promise, no Gaza Strip. Anyway, it reminded me a lot of the hilly desert areas of Nevada - completely brown, very little vegetation. We passed a number of Bedouin camps - not as "tenty" as I imagined/had seen photos of. They appeared more like some of the shanty areas in Tijuana - but just in small groupings out in the middle of nowhere. We could see their sheep and donkeys grazing on the hills, and saw one boy riding alongside the road on his donkey. There were a few dual purpose businesses - a nursery/clay pot store, but with three camels available for riding in front. And we kept heading down below sea level. The road dead-ends at the Dead Sea - to the left the road north to Galilee, across the Sea is Jordan, and to the right took us to Masada. All told, about an hour and 15 minutes from Jerusalem.

We arrived at Masada to be welcomed with a covered parking garage - a wonderful thing at this hot place. We then took the quick and easy way to the top (and at the end, back down) on the cable car - you can see the photo below from about halfway up. On the right side of the photo is the "Snake Path" we would have taken had we come for sunrise.

Once at the top, there was just a cliff hanging ramp up to the entrance to this mountain top fortress. At the top we were about 1300 ft above the Dead Sea, so weirdly we were at sea level...

Historically, Masada was a fortress/palace built by King Herod. After his death it was ruled by the Romans, until a group of Jewish rebels took it over (66 AD). It remained so, held by 1000 defenders, for even two years after the fall of Jerusalem to the Roman Empire (it all makes sense - the fall of the Second Temple) - the last Jewish stronghold. In 73 AD, the Romans launched a 10,000 men strong attack on Masada, surrounding the mountain with a ring of eight camps (still visible as we looked down, and built an earthen ramp on the east side of the mountain. On top of this they created a tower and battering ram. When it was clear that they would be defeated by the next day, the defenders chose to commit mass suicide rather than submit to the Romans and slavery. Some of the relics found that reinforce the story of the Jewish stronghold, were pottery shards with Hebrew writing indicating the names of those that were there. So lots of history and emotion on that plateau. Even today, part of the swearing in oath of the Isreali army is "Masada shall not fall again."

We have posted lots of photos of archeology, so will try to limit to some of the unique features of this site. Below is the heating area for the sauna. Camel dung was used as fuel and the floor tiles would heat. The columns you see were holding up the floor of the bathhouse - so the hot air would circulate underneath and heat the the room - early sauna. Although can't imagine that smelled good - but then again, I've not ever smelled camel dung...

Our favorite part was the lower terrace of the North Palace - the "Hanging Palace". You can see Jim coming down the stairs to get there. No cable car here.

But really stunning - well worth it.

Of course, whatever goes down, must come back up. Here we are on the lower terrace looking up to the middle and upper terrace (where the tourists are). Fortunately, the path was on the northwest side of the mountain, so during morning hours mostly shady.

There was a small synagogue, which I didn't photograph because a group was praying in it, but in this small area off to the side was a scribe working on a Torah scroll. I assumed he had air conditioning in there! I think that this is a new feature here as I saw an article touting "after 2000 years, the torah is being scribed at Masada again" and that was May, 2011 and it had a photo of this same man.

Below are the niches for funerary urns. I actually meant to put in a photo of something similar that we heard a tour guide describing as pigeon coops and explaining that pigeons were used as carriers of messages. Apparently they also served a culinary function.

And all of this surrounded on three sides by the Negev.

I had to take a photo of this because it was the only plant that I saw. There were a few small olive trees as well. But otherwise completely barren.

It was getting close to noon - we had seen the whole thing, and were hot, exhausted and hungry.

I should add that I am not sure how hot it was, but we thought it was manageable (seems like we were more miserably hot in Galilee and Tel Aviv) - maybe we just had it so built up in our minds that we were relieved to have done it without passing out. I know it is hard to see as it is hazy, but this is looking out east over the Dead Sea.

Back down the cable car, we headed back up along the coast of the Dead Sea to the Ein Gedi Spa. I should qualify that it is a scaled down version of a Spa by U.S. standards (sort of combo spa/rest stop) but the only game in town other than going to one of the few public beaches, and it had a restaurant/cafeteria.

After a quick lunch we plopped into the mud baths.

Let that cake on a bit, then showered it off in outdoor sulphur showers. We then took the shuttle down to the water's edge with signs indicating "The Lowest Point on Earth". All along the road were "danger" signs - apparently all of this mud is like quicksand and very dangerous.

Salt crystals edge everything - you can see them on the ramp leading in to the water, they are all over the sea bottom as well - no sand or rocks, just salt formations - so one is advised to keep your sandals or shoes on when you go in, which we did.

You can also see the salt crystals on the posts of these shade covers.

So in we plopped - water is like bath temperature. Even though we'd seen photos of floating in the Dead Sea, it is truly a unique feeling. And supposedly very medicinal.

I know it is hazy, but what you see at the top of the photo below is the east side of the Sea, which is Jordan - so we have now seen Israel, Lebanon, Syria and Jordan!

We ended our spa adventure with 30 minute massages, then were back on the road to Jerusalem - and managed to gas up the car and return it by 5:30 p.m.

Between the heat, physical exertion, mud and sulphur baths, float in the sea, and massages we were relaxed like mush. So actually, a pretty "high" point of the trip.

Working Down the List

So sorry that the text that went along with this posting, disappeared. So here goes trying to remember what I wrote!

Earlier in the day I looked at the list of "things to do/see in Jerusalem" that many of you contributed to, and was pleased to see that we really had accomplished most of them in some form or another. But I also noticed that we went to a place that nobody had suggested - the Chagall Windows at the Hadassah Hospital (photo of one of them above)! But more about that later.

When we last posted we were relaxing at home on Saturday - a much quieter day of the week here - much less traffic, horns, sirens, city noises. But as sundown approached we decided to venture out for dinner. Since we were going to a fish/seafood restaurant(not kosher), we knew we could eat earlier (7 p.m.) - we are trying to get used to the late dinner hour here, but we are earlier eaters so off we went at 7:00. We were surprised to see that other restaurants on the street were open as well. So after dinner (sundown) we headed two blocks to the frozen yogurt shop for dessert, but they were not open (and most of businesses on that street were closed as well). So we walked to Mamilla shopping center - businesses there also closed - but it ends at the Jaffa Gate, so gave us our first view of the Old City Walls at night, so well worth it even though no gelato places open. But we also noticed that the place was filling up (close to 9 pm.) and standing in front of shops - sort of like the after Christmas (or should I say after Chanukah) sales at the mall. Shop keepers started arrived and getting situated and as a store would open people would pour in - tried to walk in one place and the aisles were so crowded we could barely move. We figured "our" frozen yogurt place would now be open as well, we headed back there to find them just opening (yogurt machines still needing to churn for a few more minutes).

As we sat outside of the shop, we noticed two police cars positioned at the end of the block. Was this just routine caution for the post-Shabbat reveling in this area full of restaurants and shops? Our question was answered within moments as we heard the chants, megaphones, and drums of protesters (the same high cost of housing issue that has been going on the whole time we've been in Israel - remember the tent city photo in Tel Aviv?) marching down the street. It started with student groups, but then expanded to people of all ages.

We read on line the next day that it was 10,000 people. At one point this tall "float" of signs had trouble making it under the power lines, and we all cheered when they successfully navigated their way. Since there seemed to be no end in sight, we figured our only way back home was to join the march for a block until we could veer off onto a side street down the hill back to Agron (the street that the house is off of). Once on Agron we didn't have to use the crosswalk at police had the street blocked off and the street was welling with protesters. They went on the Prime Minister's residence, but since then have set up a tent city at Independence Park (on Agron) - same place the gay rights event was at. Apparently quite the center of political activity!

On Sunday we had an early English tour scheduled at the Western Wall Tunnels, but first stopped at the wall. Here you can see the women's section

and men's.

Every crack/crevice is filled with folded up prayers - very hard to even find a place to add to and many fall out to the floor at the bottom of the wall, which begs the question of what happens to all the prayer notes? Apparently twice a year the Rabbi of the Western Wall and his team collect them all up and bury them on the Mount of Olives.

I did not take any photos of the Tunnel Tour as I would need a much better camera to capture anything decent. But it was a fascinating tour. We really appreciated that it started off with a relief map of the Old City, and then started adding/taking away to show the different versions of the city, focusing on the Temple Mount/Western Wall. Very helpful as it can all get quite confusing. The tour involves the archeological excavation under the streets of the Muslim Quarter that uncovered the original street level of the Western Wall, as well as the lower layers of the wall. Also the cisterns and aqueduct system. At the end the tour walked us back through the Muslim Quarter "above" where we just were.

Our next stop was the History of Jerusalem Museum at David's Tower/Citadel which is right next to the Jaffa Gate. What a great use of the space as you walk through exhibits of the chronology of the Old City. We had a 90 year old docent - who was able to navigate all the stairs; a few memory problems which he apologized for - but then later on the tour he would have the "aha" and fill us in on what he forgot earlier.

This was the site of the Dale Chihuly exhibit in 1999/2000. We loved his exhibit at the De Young a few years ago, so can only imagine how beautiful this place must have been, particularly at night all lit up with his installations. One piece in the entry remains

as well as these spikey plants below

After the tour we walked the walls of the citadel and went up to the tower to see the Old City from a different angle. All the TV satellite dishes, laundry, roof top decks, rooftop solar heaters are a reminder that thousands of people actually live there (close to 50,000? with most being in the Muslim Quarter).

Dome of the Rock seems dwarfed from this angle.

Monday we got to "relax" (no planning or decision making) as we put ourselves in the wise hands of our tour guide Susan. We successfully hailed a cab and put him on the meter (I think it was the same guy who turned us away on Friday when we said we wanted him on the meter; I guess he was in a better mood) and met Susan at the Israeli Museum, which has recently undergone a huge remodel/renovation. It is more of a campus with different buildings, courtyards, gardens.

We started out at this HUGE to-scale model of the Old City during the Second Temple period - so the same view we had of the Old City from Mount of Olives. I think we finally "get it"!

We then moved on to the Shrine of the Book - where the Dead Sea Scrolls are displaced. This odd looking structure is designed to mimic the lid to the jars in which the scrolls were found. The first scroll was found in a cave near the Dead Sea by a Bedouin boy in search of a lost goat. The story of how this scroll was sold, how others were found, bought/sold was fascinating even before you take a look at these ancient documents, from about 100 BC (1000 years older than any manuscripts previously found) and the Hebrew is still the same as today.

We also visited the Jewish Art and Life wing - Judaica from all over the world including four complete synagogue interiors from Italy, Germany, India and Suriname. We ended walking the grounds to appreciate some of the sculpture. I think the one below was entitled "The Earth Upside Down".

This apple core was a huge attraction for the kids

And a whole garden of Naguchi pieces with views of modern Jerusalem at every angle.

Close by was Supreme Court - it could not be more different from the US Supreme Court building! And a very different judicial system.

The building was designed to incorporate three basic concepts:

1) Inside and Outside - so tons of natural light

2) Old and New - architectural elements from Israel's history are throughout, including the interior stairway below that mimics a Jerusalem street, but with Jerusalem stone on one side, and modern white walls on the other, as well as the courtroom corridor

3) Lines and Circles - expressing the concepts of law and justice visually with, from Psalms, the lines representing the law ("You are righteous...and Your laws are straight) and the circles representing justice ("He leads me in the circles of justice").

We drove into the Jerusalem Hills/Forests to Ein Karem for lunch

and visited this monastery which claims to be built over the cave in which John the Baptist was born.

Very cute area, an artist colony at one point

as well as the "Well of Mary" - wait, didn't we see that in Nazareth? Either I am confused or there are many places in this Holy Land that claim to "be the site of". I think that both are true. Anyway, she did come to visit her cousin Elizabeth who lived here while they were both pregnant and she drank from the well. We did see a guy washing his face there...

Up we continued (by car) to the huge complex that is the Hadassah Hospital. No way to even capture a photo of these highrise buildings on top of the hill. Current construction is underway on a new building that includes 4 levels of surgical rooms that are below ground (bomb shelters) as history shows that operating rooms have been the target of attacks. Bomb shelters are included in all new construction (or remodels) - in fact when we went to use the public restrooms at the Supreme Court, they were located in the bomb shelter section of the basement. A fact of life and building design here.

The Chagall windows (there are 12 of them representing the 12 tribes of Israel) are in the hospital Synagogue (where our tour guide was married!) You can actually see the exterior of the arched windows in the photo above. Apparently when Chagall was approached to design one window, his response was "I've been waiting for somebody from Israel to ask!" and proceeded to donate his work and time (he helped design the synagogue as well) creating 12 windows instead of one, considering them his gift to the Jewish people of today, and of years past. They were real works of passion and he described feeling like his parents were looking over his shoulders as he created them. He went on to describe that "behind them were Jews, millions of other vanished Jews - of yesterday and a thousand years ago." The windows are not traditional stained glass, but rather layers of paint. In the 1967 war, four of the windows were shattered during the bombing. Chagall fixed all of them, but in one of the windows he added a piece of one of the shattered windows as a reminder of what had happened.

Our final stop of the day was at Mahane Yehuda market. But first, one of the big advantage of a tour guide is we veer a different direction and see things we never would have found, including this charming neighborhood south of Agripas Street.

Charming homes

garden lined streets and courtyards

markers on the homes with the photos and stories of who first lived there.

Every few blocks there was a tiny neighborhood synagogue.

Another very full day, but with a tour guide we see and learn so much more than when we muddle through on our own.

But muddle through we did on Tuesday as we spent the morning at Yad Vashem - the Holocaust Martyrs' and Heroes" Remembrance Authority. No photos (although wish I had brought my camera and taken photos of the exterior and garden exhibits. This was very different than the Holocaust museum in Washington DC. There is a building with nine galleries that tell the story of the Shoah (Hebrew word for Holocaust - translation is "Disaster") from the Jewish perspective. It goes in chronological and thematic order, and includes personal narratives from survivors as well as those that died (journals, poems, artwork, photos). At the end is the Hall of Names, a symbolic tombstone for those that died, with photos and "testimony" about them from family members. Behind the glass are thousands of binders on several storied shelving that include these testimonies - one of the goals of Yad Vashem is to put a name/face to all who died. There was also a Children's Memorial that is completely dark, with mirrors reflecting thousands of candles - a tribute to the 1.5 million Jewish children who were killed. As you walk through, you hear the names, their ages, and where they were from. The whole place was so powerful and we learned things we had not known before.

A little mind-numbed, after lunch we headed up to the nearby Herzl Museum which is dedicated the the original creator of the concepts of Zionism, although he did not live to see the creation of the state of Israel. Clearly an innovative and before-his-time thinker.

Tomorrow is Dead Sea/Masada! We will be toting large water bottles...