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Published: October 17th 2013
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Today was another free day in Jerusalem. We inquired about visiting nearby Bethlehem, but decided against it. Our extremely knowledgeable leader, Yves, said that we could go by taxi....but would likely pay an exorbitant sum and be disappointed, as there was really not much to see. So we decided to explore more of Jerusalem.
I had promised to be good and not to go off by myself and I had every intention of keeping my promise....until I started out with a small group headed for Temple Mount. I am not sure if they lost me or I lost them...but I suddenly found myself in a crowd of people...none of whom I had ever seen before. After spending several days in Jerusalem I felt confident that I had mastered the "dos" and "don't s" well enough to navigate for a few hours on my own.....also feeling secure in the knowledge that I would eventually meet up with some of my gang. So chin held high (that always seems to give the impression that one knows exactly where one is going, and why) I headed for Temple Mount.
I knew that as a non-Muslim I would not be permitted to enter
the Dome of the Rock or the al-Aqsa Mosque. I strolled around the grounds, taking many pictures of the beautiful structures, shown at their best against the brilliant blue, cloudless sky. As I entered the courtyard area outside the al-Aqsa Mosque, I realized that I was the only person there, which caused me to wonder if I had entered a restricted zone. I noticed two military policemen with machine guns, and thought they looked like the kind of people who could answer this question. I approached them with what I hoped was the appropriate air of respect and deference, but resisted the urge to curtsey....I really did not think that was the correct protocol. I spoke to the younger one, whose scowl was slightly less daunting, asking simply if I was permitted to walk in this area. He responded crisply that yes I could walk outside all I wanted but was NOT to enter the Mosque. I assured him solemnly that I would not. His tone, though still official, became less hostile as he asked me where I was from. Never in my entire life have the words, "I am from Quebec" elicited such a response. The scowl melted away
into a most charming flashing white smile and a rapid rush of French, "Du Québec!!!!!!!!! Vous êtes du Québec!!!!!!! Bien vous parlez français comme ça!!!!! Formidable!!!!! Merveilleux!!!!! Venez vous assoir avec moi"....he patted the stone wall against which he was leaning and I hopped up (I am not well practiced in hopping up on stone walls while wearing a skirt but managed to pull it off....oh no, poor choice of words....) and for the next 15 or 20 minutes we had a lovely chat about life in Quebec, Canada, Jerusalem, Israel in general.We both took care to avoid controversial, political topics...and focused mainly on day-to-day life. It struck me that this young man wanted the same thing that most of us want....to live in peace, be able to procure food and other necessities of life for our families, have access to education, have a purpose and meaning to our lives. After a few minutes, the presence of the machine gun no longer seemed frightening or strange, and for some reason, this left me feeling a little sad.
Leaving Temple Mount, I returned to the seemingly endless labyrinth of shops in Old Jerusalem. Goods sold range from the expected souvenir
trinkets to brilliantly coloured textiles; jewelry made of gold, silver and semi-precious stones; paintings and prints by local artists; an incredible variety of spices, many unfamiliar but enticing; and one can even pick up a hookah pipe......The shopkeepers are, for the most part, extremely aggressive. So am I, so I felt I could resist without too much difficulty. First rules: walk fast, glance quickly at the goods, but avoid eye-contact with the eager salesmen that do everything except stick their foot out to trip passers-by. I was sailing along at an admirable pace, without taking a single hit....then it happened: I slipped past a jewelery store specialized in semi-precious stones (I must mention, I own very little jewelery and it is not something I am inclined to spend money on....but I do have a weakness for lapiz lazuli) and I slowed down just a tad; then I increased my pace past the shop, and heard one of the shopkeepers shout at me, "Alright then, are you from Australia?" Although I am not, I have
been to Australia, and I can
spell Australia, and oh yes I
have family in Australia....so all this combined and they found the chink in my
armor. The man who spoke to me was Israeli, but is now living in Australia, and was visiting his friend, the jewelery shop owner. Before I knew what was happening, we were chatting enthusiastically about the land of Oz, they were putting necklaces on me "just to see what it looks like on such a beautiful woman"....even though I insisted that I was not interested in making a purchase today....then we were sitting down, drinking tea...and suddenly... he came in for The Sale. I said the necklace and earring set were quite lovely, but it was not in my budget. He lowered the price, stating emphatically, that it was his rock-bottom price.... and I held my ground, still refusing. Now what could he do....he had given me his "rock-bottom price"....and I was confident that I would walk away, without being lured into his scheme. Then....I, the die-hard anti-sales-pitch Queen....was faced with an act of Salesman Greatness. He steered me towards his work area, sat me down, produced an assortment of beads made of lapiz lazuli and Eilat stone, a length of wire and tools to assemble a necklace. He started at one end and I at the other....and we "made
the necklace together". So.....because I actually made the necklace, he was able to drop the price considerably. Between this act of Salesman Genius, and the paralyzing beauty of the stones...I found myself caving in, producing a credit card....and leaving the shop with a tiny little package tied up with a lovely golden string. Every time I wear this necklace and earring set, I just have to smile.
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