The first day of the trip was a LONG day. I was awake for 30 hours straight by the time I was finally able to crash out. Here’s a recap:
We drove straight from the airport to Jerusalem, to visit the Old City. Some people were annoyed that this was the first item on the itinerary; they were looking forward to Old Jerusalem so much, they wanted to see it with freshly rested eyes, not stumble around it like half-dead zombies. But the trip organizers apparently decided that it would make the best introduction to Israel, so off we went. So much for the skirt I packed to be respectful at the Kotel; it was under the bus, and I was in my sweats. I tried, anyhow.
After the bus ride to Jerusalem, we went straight up to the lookout on the Mount of Olives over the whole city. The view is really spectacular. Gentle rolling hills dotted by buildings, all in the golden Jerusalem Stone. It’s like a postcard. We got miniature cups of Kedem syrup – er – wine and said Shehe’cheyanu.
From that view, we drove into the Old City. We saw several sites that exist according to legend, including the place where King David is buried, the site of Jesus’s “last supper” (actually a Passover Seder, of course). We visited several ancient Roman structures, and went partly along the road heading to the Muslim Quarter, where it wasn’t recommended to go for safety reasons at the time, though I’d visited the Arab Markets on previous trips with my family. The security situation didn’t seem too noticeable other than that, but it did serve as a bit of a reminder.
After a falafel stop for lunch, we headed to the Kotel – the Western Wall. I’d been before, of course, and I’m not really religious, so it wasn’t much of an emotional experience that time around. Anyway, I don’t believe a wall can be holy. But what really struck me that time around was how many people were begging. Kind of sad, but at the same time I was a bit disgusted, because they take advantage of people’s emotions when they get to the Wall, and they know it too. Somehow the Kotel wasn’t as great an experience through newly cynical eyes as it was when I was a naive 13-year-old.
After that, we headed back to the hotel in Neve Ilan, in the Judean Hills, for dinner, after which we played a bunch of cheesy games – icebreakers and such. It felt like I was back in camp. The hard-core partiers headed out on the town right away, never mind having been awake for over 30 hours. The rest of us crashed out.