The morning after is always hard.
Yesterday’s ramparts walk along the north side of the old city of Jerusalem was physically demanding; even after soaking in Epsom salts, most of us were exhausted and sore last night. It was only with a narrow margin (one vote) that we decided to go back to the old city.
(Lest you believe this was an instagram-worthy moment, I’ll assure you that we only left the house after 30 minutes of crying, some yelling, and more than a few sighs. That’s just how this family rolls.)
On the way to the train we bought croissants, challah buns, and a bunch of bananas for breakfast. The light rail train dropped us off by the Jaffa gate, and we immediately headed for the ramparts walk, south section.
Bad news: even though the rampart walk tickets are valid for two consecutive days, the tickets we bought yesterday were stamped with Saturday’s date. The ticket-taker didn’t want to let us in. After we argued for a while, he reluctantly punched our tickets and allowed us to pass, saying “It’s illegal, you know.” Thus admonished, we set out.
We took a break halfway along the wall to sit and sketch for a while. Here’s mine:
After we descended from the ramparts we wandered through the Jewish quarter for a while. Mr. December showed off his bargaining skills, bringing the (overinflated) price of a whole lot of stuff from 1050 shekels to five hundred. He didn’t even compromise. He said, “Five hundred.” and the guy looked at him and said, “Maybe 750?” and Mr. December said, “Five hundred.” It went back and forth like that until the guy decided he wanted the sale, and accepted five hundred shekels.
We saw a multimedia presentation about the Burnt House, a remnant of the destruction of the Second Temple (63 CE.) We ate lunch (I’ve been here for two weeks and that was my first falafel. Worth waiting for, by the way.) Then we walked back down to the Kotel and sat down to write notes. It took a bit of coaching for the kids to think of something not completely shallow (“please make Abba buy us candy,”) but in the end everyone had a note or two to put into the wall.
By then, it was time to go. Mr. December went off to a meeting he had with the International Free Loan people. The kids and I boarded the number 1 bus (super crowded and super slow—next time we walk back to the Jaffa gate and take the train) to go home. And once we got there, we all collapsed.
Stay tuned for tomorrow: a normal, possibly boring, school day at home, with a chance of a foray into the shuk.