Jerusalem My First Jewish Day

After a few days concerning myself with Palestinian matters, I think it would a fine idea today to try to get a little more Israeli experience now that the group is concerning itself with some personal matters. So I head for the Jewish Quarter of the Old City and choose the cafe with the most Orthodox Jewish men in it. I sit down and order a fresh orange juice and talk to the man next to me who is eating his breakfast whilst dealing in currencies.

I tell him how I feel to be walking around the Old City and he tells that he felt the same way when he first moved here. To my surprise, I find out that he has moved here from Stamford Hill, known as the most ultra-orthodox Jewish part of London. I know a little about Stamford Hill because a friend used to teach in the Jewish School there. She told me that she could avoid a visit from the inspectors and the men who ran the school by getting her students (all girls) to sing. Apparently men there were not allowed to hear girls singing so the inspectors immediately went somewhere else. It doesn’t seem to be the case in Jerusalem because I have heard singing coming from buildings all around the Jewish Quarter.

I ask him how they get on with the Moslems next door. “We get on fine with Moslems in the Old City and always have done. We respect them and they respect us.” I am particularly impressed when he adds, ” .. Oh Yes .. The chap running this restaurant we all come to is a Moslem!! We never have problems getting on with each other in the Old City”

This certainly seems to be the case as I have seen many Orthodox Jews walking happily through the souk and I even ran across a couple of very imposing Jews in some sort of regalia walking through the Moslem quarter. Nobody batted an eyelid ( even though they weren’t buying anything!!).

My next encounter is not so pleasant. I join a tour just setting off booked in for a trip through the archeological works under the Western Wall. You have to be in a group to do this so I cannot do it on my own. The agency organising the tour tell me that, even though it is run by a Jewish company, it is suitable for all faiths.

The trip is guided by “Stanley”, who says he is a retired professor of Russian History from Columbia University, although he tells me that he had spent a very unpleasant time in Indiana University before going to Columbia. He has a sort of Bronx accent and is a very efficient talker; just the sort of guide you need for a historical tour. The group consists of three Jewish people from the states, a Egyptian man now living in Australia and myself.

Our little group is booked to go in at midday so Stanley gives us some background on the stonework of the temples while we are waiting. When we eventually start on our underground journey, we pass through the women’s Synagogue where Stanley makes some very peculiar statements about the inferiority of women.

Then he starts saying slightly nasty things about Moslems looking straight at my (by now!!) Egyptian Australian friend. I urge him stop this man going on like this by telling him his religion. (He is Coptic Christian) He says, “No. I want to see how far he goes”. Well, he may want that but I am not going to put up with this. So, at the end of his next Moslem diatribe looking all the time at my friend, I simply yell at him, “Stop!!! He’s not Moslem! He’s Australian!!”

Stanley is a bit puzzled. The Jewish people laugh and my Australian friend grins at me, as I have kept my word by not telling Stanley his religion.

But Stanley is only warming up. First it’s the Prophet’s horse. Then it’s the body of Jesus. Then surprisingly it’s how England started the Second World War. That’s a curious statement because I had seen “Peace in our Time” written on the “wall” on the West Bank side by Aida refugee Camp two days ago. So perhaps this is one area where Palestinians have the same view as Stanley. Perhaps not. But I noticed that the Palestinians knew the historical significance of the statement “Peace in Our Time” so perhaps they equate the selling out of the Czech people with the selling out of the Arab occupants of Palestine. They always refer to the ‘mandate’ as the ‘British Mandate” without referring to the League of Nations or the United Nations which finally partitioned the country in 1947.

But Stanley hasn’t finished. His prejudice is ignored by me like water off a duck’s back but he certainly has problems which the Othodox Jews, whom I had met during the morning, did not have. However, when we pass an apartment which has been stealthily purchased by a Jew from an Arab through a number of intermediaries, he does not like this. The apartment has Israeli flags all over it. “They are deliberately trying to stir up trouble in the Old City”, he says. The rest of us get on fine but those people just want to annoy Moslems. It’s not right!!!” So even Stanley has his limits which is good to see.

Walking along the base of the Western Wall is another amazing experience. It is SO old!!! We even see where they have carved the bedrock to look like the huge stones in the base of the Western Wall. Compared with this, the Crusader rockwork above us is “recent”!!! The tunnel is under the Moslem Quarter and we see where people used to drop buckets directly down into the tunnel which used to contain water. There are bricked up trapdoors above us all the length of the old water storage tunnel.

The history as usual is overwhelming. I keep remembering how ancient I thought Florence was. Here we are now looking at blockwork which is three times the age of Florence! We pass some people praying whilst leaning against the wall and we remember that this is simply the continuation of the exposed part of the Western Wall which used to be known as “The Wailing Wall”.

Stanley tells us that there was a terrible fuss when the archeologists dug a channel up to an exit on the Via Dolorosa. But, as soon as the shopkeepers found that it brought them them extra customers, the Moslems were happy with the arrangement. That’s Stanley’s story anyway.

But he does find us an excellent cheap Falafel House which I love. But people forget that, in this place, you must first pay then take the receipt to the man making the Falafels.

On my way back to the hotel, I walk through a very poor orthodox Jewish area which looks like a set from a Hollywood movie. When I tell the group that there is a poor Jewish area just ten minutes walk away from the cathedral, they are amazed. They believed all Jewish Israelis to be rich!!

When I return to the hotel, I find that the group had been trying to contact me so that I could join up with them at midday. But, although I missed the midday call, I am assured by another call, later in the evening, that I will be welcome tomorrow.

I do a little ‘workout’ some days with Palestinians under the guidance of a Moslem. Today I am ‘in the doghouse’ because I had Jewish falafel instead of Palestinian!! Apparently the word falafel is an Arabic word and the Jews aren’t stupid. They adopted such a good meal.

When I order an Israeli or Palestinian falafel, I normally ask the person making the falafel for the large soft pita bread. An Israeli will have about ten different Israeli “salads” in front of him and he mixes them with the falafel balls he is freshly frying especially for me. He will even include freshly fried chips which most people like but I only have a few. I have “the works” with extra spices. He then grins at me and adds a heap of extra falafel balls on top saying, “I hope you’re VERY hungry!!!” Jewish people tend to talk as much as I do so I always get on well in falafel houses!! The Palestinian falafels are almost identical to the Israeli falafels although my workout director says they are MUCH better!! I’m looking forward to visiting Nazereth where, my Palestinian friends tell me, they make the best falafels in the world!! Falafel is a huge meal here. In the West, they may sometimes treat it as an entree I understand. I must confess that I simply buy a packet of falafel mixture from the supermarket when I make mine.