The City of Gold

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Jerusalem Jerusalem.

I saw two sides this weekend. The Arab and the Jew. The East and the West. Salat al Jumaa and Shabbat.

I arrived to Jerusalem Thursday evening. I stepped out of the bus to the cool Jerusalem streets. The air was chilly, fresh from the rain. My first sniff of winter.

Baraa's cousin picked up me, Shayna, Baraa, Ehab, Sam and I in his cab. He drove us down into the heart of East Jerusalem, where we climbed the old stone steps up into Baraa's house. We were greeted with warm welcomes from Baraa's sisters, nephews, nieces, father and mother. We feasted on rice, chicken, and all sorts of delicious concoctions (alas, the names escape me). And ofcourse, tea. Sweet, sweet tea.

In the evening us girls sat and talked to Baraa's sisters. Baraa's sister had also been to the Arava Institute, a few years ago. Now she is married with a child on the way. We watched as Baraa's nephew showed off his English talents, and in his three year old excitement, grabbed whatever he could around the house to put on a show for us. His mother told us that the prophet Mohammed says the crazier and excitable the child is, the smarter he is. I think that's quite true.

The next morning, we met up with Reem, Lina, and Noura. Baraa gave us a tour of the Muslim quarter and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. We ate knafe and drank fresh pomegranate juice and wandered through the long, crowded corridors. At one point, the Muslims went to pray, as it was Friday. In fact, Ehab, who was in Jerusalem for the first time (he is from Amman, Jordan), got up at 3 in the morning to pray at Al Aksa with Baraa's father. To be in Jerusalem, what a miracle. What a merit.

Now I have received some shocked responses from those who live on the West Jerusalem side. What? East Jerusalem? What is a Jewish American doing there? I spoke to a dear friend on the phone while traveling to Jerusalem. He warned me not to sleep there. Its best not to, he said. I got off the phone, confused. Baraa saw my face, and asked, ya Laura, what's wrong? I told him, Baraa, is it safe for me to come to East Jerusalem? He looked at me with his his brow twisted in concern and said oh Laura I would never take you to a place where you were unsafe. We are only going to my families house, and we will be together.

I called Amer back at the kibbutz and told him about my fear. There is fear from both sides, he said. What is more dangerous, the east or the west side?

And so I slept that first night in Baraas under thick blankets that smelled of sweet must.

The evening I made my way to dinner at Eitan Eliram, my beloved high school teacher's house for dinner. I had both of my shabbat meals there, and slept at a friends house nearby. Eitan told me stories of the mystics, his own experience with interfaith work, and I played with his sweet sweet one year old daughter. I ate the most delicious soup... with kubiot filled with meat. I went to a nearby shul on Friday to daven in song. Shabbat.

Needless to say, I returned home well fed and happy.

Hannukah is here as well. We light candles every night, each person with their own tune, their own song. In Israel, they have no presents, only suvganiot (jelly donuts). And lots of them.

You'ld think they'ld sell dreidels. Or Hannukah decorations. Nope. We drove through Eilat looking for just a few knick knacks for our party... but no luck. Well, we found four driedels. That's all the store had left. And Santa claus filled with gelt. Weird.

Happy Hannukah to all, Merry Christmas, and Eid Al Adha.

Tis the season.

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Photos

Yum!
From left to right: Ehab, Dana, Shayna, Me, Baraa

East Jerusalem
View from Baraa's house

Sam and Shayna
Playing.

Dome of the Rock
And Ehab

The Church
This is believed to be the spot where Jesus was crucified. Man.