The grey snake around Jerusalem

On arrival at Ben Gurion International in Tel Aviv, my first impression was that it could have been anywhere in the world that I had just landed. Anywhere, that is, until I came to the queue for security check. As a pseudo journalist posing as a tourist, the old mantra of ‘act normal’ repeated in my mind as I waited to be called.

A sullen young Israeli girl snatched my passport and asked me where I was going. ‘Jerusalem’, I said, smiling in a non committal way. Wrong approach. ‘What are you doing there?’ she asked, pushed into a state of high alert. ‘Staying with a friend in the west of the city,’ I replied, daunted by her style of rapport.

My first lesson, I discovered, was not to be insulted by this, but to be relieved that I was not engaged in a strip search.

Preparing for Shabat

When I got into the arrivals area, I was happy to see my friend waiting for me. One less thing to worry about, I thought, as I had just realised that my phone didn’t work on a roaming basis in the Middle East. How I only realised this on arrival in Tel Aviv would seem strange to someone that doesn’t know me- one that does know me, however, will know that I also left Ireland without one iota of the local currency in tow.

As my friend is the public assistant to the Special Coordinator for the Middle East Peace Process, I had the pleasure of riding to Jerusalem in her UN convoy car. Although Tel Aviv was nice, I couldn’t wait to get to the city that I had spent months reading about but had never seen. I was not going to be disappointed.

The souk in the Jewish Quarter

When you first get to Jerusalem the first thing that strikes you is that it is a lot bigger than it seems. I couldn’t believe how modern it was; naïve as I am, I was half expecting to be surrounded by goats, crosses and the ominous amalgamation of three different calls to prayer.

In Jerusalem, the smallest thing to one can be of crucial significance to another and a complete lack of understanding and reluctance to compromise leads to things getting utterly out of control. There is no effort made to understand either, and of course, this is also part of the problem. As I have also quickly learned, I am a Westerner and it is easy for me to think I understand something when all I have ever known is an ideal.

Feed the Birds..

On Saturday, I went walking on the ramparts of the Old City. The Old City is the heart of Jerusalem and is brimming with iconic spaces and places which mean different things to different people. To me, it’s all fabulous, the architecture is amazing and the people are so unlike what I am accustomed to. I learned quickly that even my most modest attire was going to attract attention from men within the Old City. The best thing to do when someone stares, I found, was to pull on my sunglasses and simply evil eye them underneath the haze.

One thing that did strike me is that, on leaving the city through the Lion’s Gate, the Arab dominated East Jerusalem seemed really cluttered and untidy. When I asked about this, I learned that the municipal didn’t cover that side of the city and so the area was as a rule left untouched. This was the beginning of my comprehension of the east-west divide in the Holy Land.

Bow in the Presence of Greatness

After dinner, we decided to take the car up to the viewing point at Talpiyot. This viewing point is only a stone’s throw from the UNSCO at Government House. We had timed reaching the point just as the sun was setting and as I turned my attention towards the city, I saw something which I had momentarily forgotten existed, but there it was, clear as day to the naked eye. In the East, at almost the furthest point of my vision, a thick band of grey divided the horizon.Winidng its way around the edges of the landscape, this grey snake cut straight through farms and houses and anything else in its path.

This was the famous Wall, the contentious security/apartheid Barrier of speculation and international outcry. And there it was, inconspicuous and concrete. And when I say concrete, I mean in something other than its construction. This wall, whatever you want to call it, very clearly exists. It shares the same skyline as the ancient monuments of the Old City that men have died for, and it very much exists. Whatever that wall represents, its presence is felt on the landscape of this timeless city and it, like everything else, is yet another element of history, imploring to be noticed, as it unfolds.

By Jennifer Bannon

When I got into the arrivals area, I was happy to see my friend waiting for me. One less thing to worry about, I thought, as I had just realised that my phone didn’t work on a roaming basis in the Middle East. How I only realised this on arrival in Tel Aviv would seem strange to someone that doesn’t know me- one that does know me, however, will know that I also left Ireland without one iota of the local currency in tow.

As my friend is the public assistant to the Special Coordinator for the Middle East Peace Process, I had the pleasure of riding to Jerusalem in her UN convoy car. Although Tel Aviv was nice, I couldn’t wait to get to the city that I had spent months reading about but had never seen. I was not going to be disappointed.