Jerusalem.
How I miss it.
Walking her streets at least once a week [every Saturday], she began to feel like home to me.
I miss the sight of stray cats.
I miss the Citadel or Jaffa Gate, aglow at night. I miss the busy scurrying of men with carts, conducting their daily business, outside of Damascus Gate.
I miss seeing bread vendors and their braided loaves piled up high on carts.
I miss seeing jingling skirts and shimmering scarves and plush camels and carved figurines displayed outside of a hole-in-the-wall shop...that beckoned one to come inside.
I miss how people would rudely (at least according to my culture) rush by, brushing up against you, or bumping you.
I miss the sometimes hilarious, sometimes annoying cat calls of the shopkeepers to get us into their shops ("You dropped something-my heart").
I miss that old, often putrid scent that infused the Old City, and became one of its signature features.
I miss the smell of hookah.
I miss the colors everywhere...the colors of the sunsets, the colors of the bedazzled pillows and carpets and purses, the colors of the graffiti etched onto the walls.
I miss the healthy, endearing body of believers that comprise Jerusalem Assembly (I miss Meno's excited gestures and facial expressions and funny jokes...his passion for the things of the Lord!)
I miss walking out of Mamilla Street with it's shops, and lights, and modern styles, and then going, as if through a time machine, centuries back and entering the Old City.
I miss our shopkeeper friends, whom we knew by name...and who offered us discount deals or hot cups of soothing tea (or sometimes, even offers of marriage!)
I miss seeing Jewish families...little boys wearing little tallits and kippahs and sporting the signature Pe'ot (curls down their sideburns). They were so dreamy with their dark hair and big, curious eyes. Or married women with their head coverings- hiding their shaved heads. A difficult lifestyle, I imagined.
I miss the smell of strange spices.
I miss Shabban and his shop. That man could give us any piece of information or help us find any kind of trinket or get us any kind of deal our hearts desired.
I miss Emperor's Shawarma- where we would pile our plates high with hummus and onions and beets and pickles. Where the owner knew exactly who we were, since we became such regulars.
I miss Aroma's- and the feeling of a blended, iced coffee slipping down my throat...or a piping mocha and it's complementary chocolate. An Aroma's coffee always tasted so good because it was paired with the company of good friends.
I miss the little grocery store, where we would stock up on such essentials as pita bread, peanut butter, and hummus, among other things.
I miss seeing crowds of soldiers- just going about their everyday duty.
I miss the spiritual wake up call that occurred after passing men praying on their mats to Allah...so much passion, for what? or passing Eastern Orthodox processions...so much pride, for what?
I miss the sight of men holding dangling, silver trays filled with tea, or Turkish coffee, or smoothies.
I miss all of the twists and turns of the Old City. The ancient, bumpy cobblestone, the stone walls, the various quarters. Even after three months of exploring the city, there were always new finds to discover.
I miss being able to go into such historical landmarks as the Church of the Holy Sepulcher whenever I wanted. The kind of places I had only read about or seen in movies before. I miss the sensation of having history-everywhere!-at the touch of my fingertips.
I miss the panoramic view from the Mount of Olives-especially breathtaking at nightfall.
I miss seeing the Dome of the Rock gleaming majestically in the light of the sun.
I miss seeing the crowds of people accumulated around the Wailing Wall- bowing, praying, crying, beseeching, leaving their hand-written notes within its crevices...so much emotion, so many pleas for hope surround that wall.
I miss New Jerusalem- Ben Jehuda Street with its candy stores (filled with every size and kind and flavor of colorful, American or non-American, candy a person could want), and all of the quaint coffee shops and little boutiques elsewhere.
I miss riding the tram, rubbing shoulders with many faces I had never seen before, and never would again. People to whom Jerusalem was simply their home. I miss engaging in random conversations with the locals.
I miss plopping down at Christ's Church, after a long day of walking and exploring...to study, chat, or simply take in a delicious, warm cappuccino and a hot, melting chocolate croissant.
I miss the wind whipping about my shoulders (and most of the time, threatening my skirt!), or the rain soaking my skin, or the sun causing me to break out into an intense sweat...these were the feelings that assured me that I was really here. That this was really happening. That it wasn't all just a dream.
Which is what it's beginning to feel like now...
אני מתגעגעת לך ירושלים
("I miss you Jerusalem").
"Ten measures of beauty descended to the world, nine were taken by Jerusalem."
—Talmud: Kiddushin 49b
“Without Jerusalem, the land of Israel is as a body without a soul.”
—Elhanan Leib Lewinsky, Hebrew writer and Zionist leader
“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.”
—Psalm 122:6
**Photo Credits: the majority of these photos were taken by my friend, and photographer extraordinaire, Richard Dewey**
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