Last weekend after Geoff got back from his hike, he and I left the boys with Miss Maia (our wonderful babysitter from Boston here on a dance fellowship) and headed into the Old City to see what we could see of the Palm Sunday celebrations.
First, we stopped into our fabric shop to view our new couch pillows. Shopping here is a different experience, especially if you shop in Arabic shops. The owners will greet you warmly and immediately offer you a place to sit and ask if you would like tea or coffee. I always get the tea--it is served scalding hot and sweet with plenty of mint, and it is delicious. Then you chat a bit. Not about your wares, but about weather, family history, whether business is good, and sometimes American politics (why aren't we in Syria?). Then you can move on to your business. I usually go in dreading "wasting" my time, but I always end up leaving with new perspectives, and in this case, a VERY STRONG INCLINATION to go back and purchase some silk damask from a now-bombed factory in Syria (damask originally = fabric from Damascus). That fabric is the last of its kind!.
We left the fabric store after viewing our pillows and a promise to collect them on our way out, and headed toward the other edge of the city to watch the Palm Sunday pilgrimage. Christians gather at the Mount of Olives to walk the probable route of Jesus's triumphant entry into the city all those years ago. (We opted not to participate due to the crowds and needing to be home at a decent hour for Maia's sake.) We watched them for a while from an old Ottoman cemetery, and then we decided to do our own walk up the Via Dolorosa.
It was a bit surreal for me. I know I say this every time I write about the Jesus sites--that the chances these are THE sites are slim, but that does not bother me...blah, blah, blah. I still enjoy being in the vicinity of amazing things. Somewhere in that countlessly sacked and rebuilt city, Jesus carried a cross from his prison to Golgotha. Somewhere in there, he fell several times, a woman wiped his face, he addressed some grieving women. Somewhere near where we were walking. And that is enough for us.
Our view of the Mount of Olives and Gethsemane from the cemetery
A school group marched in to St. Anne's Monastery
(I wanted to go in the church. I'm told it has amazing acoustics,
but it was closed to visitors. Harumph.)
The start of the Via Dolorosa
Station III--where Jesus fell the first time
Station V--where Simon of Cyrene helped Jesus carry the cross
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