Here's an article about the JSO that was just published. Yesterday (Friday) was to have been the last day of operations. I have not been alerted to the latest news, but will see Leon Botstein in the next few days and I'm sure I'll get the scoop. Anyway, enjoy the article!
--------------------------
Facing the music
ILANA TEITELBAUM, THE JERUSALEM POST Jul. 12, 2007
On a mild summer evening, the Henry Crown Auditorium in the Jerusalem Theater was engulfed in melodies of Northern Europe. Arrayed in finest evening dress - the men in tuxedos, the women in sleek black gowns - the musicians of the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra ventured into the realms of Odin and Thor, of Vikings and Valkyries. The program, entitled Northern Lights and the latest of the JSO's Musical Discoveries Series, focused on works of the little known Scandinavian composers Sibelius, Nielsen and Berwald.
Behind the musicians' unflappable demeanor, as they concentrated on their playing, lay the sure knowledge that unless funds are acquired by July 15 to compensate for a 60 percent budget cut, Northern Lights signified a cold end to an orchestra just shy of its 70th birthday.
The choice of obscure composers was deliberate. "These are different pieces," says principal bassoonist Richard Paley. "Only we do things like this." Paley and his colleagues explain that rather than focusing their energies on popular pieces like Beethoven's Fifth, the JSO has considered it its mission to introduce lesser known pieces to the Israeli public and beyond.
A radio orchestra, the JSO is broadcast all over Israel and on 250 stations in the United States. The JSO is also the only orchestra to focus on contemporary pieces by Israeli composers - many of whose work would otherwise not be played at all, let alone gain international exposure via the radio.
"Without us there would be no library of Israeli music," concludes Paley.
Gershon Dembinsky, head of the Musician's Committee and a clarinetist for the JSO, believes that as a state subsidized entity, a radio orchestra has a responsibility to represent artists' creativity rather than popular preferences. "A radio orchestra has a special identity in any country… it's not dependent on the tastes of the public; it should represent the creativity of artists bringing out new pieces… [and] should be more daring, go into contemporary music, be colorful," he says.
Dembinsky, who has been playing with the JSO for 30 years, reveals that his friends who play in orchestras in Europe are surprised at the variety of the JSO's repertoire.
Such an approach is "what pushes a culture forward," suggests Dembinsky. "When Beethoven wrote Eroica it wasn't accepted by the public at first because of its dissonance."
The JSO's programming may have worked to its detriment, admits Paley. "If people aren't familiar with the names, they're afraid to take a chance on something we can give them," he told In Jerusalem. "These are pieces that the general public would love… not only experts would appreciate this music."
Paley describes the Scandinavian works of last week's performance as "big, beefy, romantic music" that echo the tradition of popular romantic composers such as Strauss, Mahler and Wagner.
Players in the JSO range from young fledglings to musicians who have been with the orchestra for decades. Many are Russian immigrants, while others hail from places such as Romania, Germany, South Africa, the Czech Republic, the United States and Israel. A handful of the older players wear kippot, interspersed among them are seductively dressed female players.
"The orchestra is a microcosm of life in Jerusalem - in every aspect," says Dembinsky.
The Northern Lights concert was conducted by Timothy Myers, 31, a guest conductor from New York who had only a week to become acquainted with the orchestra and the repertoire.
"It's very hard work because many of [the players] were seeing the pieces for the first time… It's been a wonderful challenge - in the best sense of the word - to put all of this together and learn about each other," says Myers.
"We cater to all audiences," says Richard Assayas, a violinist in the JSO for 17 years and a native South African. He describes how on the one hand, the JSO performs many classical pieces, while on the other hand it recently accompanied Israeli pop star Shiri Maimon in concert in Herzliya. "We also do pop, sometimes hazzanut - that really packs the hall with Orthodox people."
Of the JSO's impending closure, Assayas admits, "We are hoping for a miracle."
The JSO has faced many threats of closure in its 69-year existence, and Dembinsky relates that the JSO was under threat of closure as early as 1962. There have been so many near-misses that Dembinsky developed a casual attitude toward the doomsayers' prophecies. But this time, "I'm disturbed," Dembinsky says. "I can't accept that the symphony orchestra of the capital city will be closing - it's inconceivable."
In trying to explain his attachment to the orchestra, Dembinsky laughs as he grasps for the right words. "It's difficult to explain when you're an addict," he says at last. "It began with a primal love… as a 10- or 12 year-old kid I was already fascinated by the sound of this machine called the symphony orchestra… I feel lucky that when my time is up, I can thank God for a wonderful life here, and for the chance to be a part of new music."
When asked how his work has changed in the course of three decades, Dembinsky says: "Getting older sharpens your musical taste, like fine wine… When I play a solo piece, I have the echoes of the past with me, producing something more ripe… the measurements are more subtle."
People in the audience were shocked to learn of the orchestra's imminent demise. "I owe a great deal of my musical maturity to the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra and feel a great sense of pride in them. The concert on Thursday was a perfect example of one of the great things they do - introduce music that falls outside of the usual classical vocabulary of most listeners," says Jerusalem Academy of Music student Asher Krim, 21.
In contrast to the dissonant emotions of pride and sadness that surrounded the stage that night, the music of the Northern Lights concert filled the concert hall with waves of resounding strength, almost of triumph. When the last notes had faded, the audience rose in a standing ovation that lasted even after the conductor's final bow. The players in the orchestra smiled back.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Story of my life
My mother recently gave me a wonderful new book of poetry to read. This one seemed to fit pretty well.
--------------------------------
Traveling Alone - Billy Collins
At the hotel coffee shop that morning,
the waitress was wearing a pink uniform
with "Florence" written in script over her heart.
And the man who checked my bag
had a nameplate that said "Ben."
Behind him was a long row of royal palms.
On the plane, two women poured drinks
from a cart they rolled down the narrow aisle -
"Debbie" and "Lynn" according to their winged tags.
And such was my company
as I arced from coast to coast,
and so I seldom spoke, and then only
of the coffee, the bag, the tiny bottles of vodka.
I said little more than "Thank you"
and "Can you take this from me please?"
Yet I began to sense that all of them
were ready to open up,
to get to know me better, perhaps begin a friendship.
Florence looked irritated
as she shuffled from table to table,
but was she just hiding her need
to know about my early years -
the ball I would toss and catch in my hands
the times I hid behind my mother's dress?
And was I so wrong in seeing in Ben's eyes
a glimmer of interest in my theories
and habits - my view of the Enlightenment,
my love of cards, the hours I tended to keep?
And what about Debbie and Lynn?
Did they not look eager to ask about my writing process,
my way of composing in the morning
by a window, which I would have admitted
if they had just had the courage to ask.
And strangely enough - I would have continued
as they stopped pouring drinks
and the other passengers turned to listen -
the only emotion I ever feel, Debbie and Lynn,
is what the beaver must feel,
as he bears each stick to his hidden construction,
which creates the tranquil pond
and gives mallards somewhere to paddle,
the pair of swans a place to conceal their young.
--------------------------------
Traveling Alone - Billy Collins
At the hotel coffee shop that morning,
the waitress was wearing a pink uniform
with "Florence" written in script over her heart.
And the man who checked my bag
had a nameplate that said "Ben."
Behind him was a long row of royal palms.
On the plane, two women poured drinks
from a cart they rolled down the narrow aisle -
"Debbie" and "Lynn" according to their winged tags.
And such was my company
as I arced from coast to coast,
and so I seldom spoke, and then only
of the coffee, the bag, the tiny bottles of vodka.
I said little more than "Thank you"
and "Can you take this from me please?"
Yet I began to sense that all of them
were ready to open up,
to get to know me better, perhaps begin a friendship.
Florence looked irritated
as she shuffled from table to table,
but was she just hiding her need
to know about my early years -
the ball I would toss and catch in my hands
the times I hid behind my mother's dress?
And was I so wrong in seeing in Ben's eyes
a glimmer of interest in my theories
and habits - my view of the Enlightenment,
my love of cards, the hours I tended to keep?
And what about Debbie and Lynn?
Did they not look eager to ask about my writing process,
my way of composing in the morning
by a window, which I would have admitted
if they had just had the courage to ask.
And strangely enough - I would have continued
as they stopped pouring drinks
and the other passengers turned to listen -
the only emotion I ever feel, Debbie and Lynn,
is what the beaver must feel,
as he bears each stick to his hidden construction,
which creates the tranquil pond
and gives mallards somewhere to paddle,
the pair of swans a place to conceal their young.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Home (well, back to the US anyway)
Ok, anyone who has any whining to do about American airport security simply needs to fly out of Jerusalem. This is an airport where the rule of showing up two hours before an international flight actually means something.
Upon entering the terminal you must pass through a stringent security line before even getting to the check-in counter. In this line they take your passport and ask you a series of questions. I told them why I had been there and actually had a program in my briefcase that I showed. Then of course they ask things like “did you make any friends while you were here?” etc etc, in addition to the standard questions about who packed your luggage et al (which they actually ask like they care). They also seem to have this routine where one person will be talking to you and asking questions (which they actually do in a pretty conversational fashion) and one of their colleagues will “stop by” and join in just to change up the rhythm. Seems like a pretty good tactic to me, you have to have your story straight.
After this they x-ray all of your luggage, and THEN they take it all and open everything in front of you, going through all of it very thoroughly and asking questions the whole time. After closing up your luggage you are then allowed to approach the check-in counter. After checking-in you go to passport control. And no, it’s not over. Between passport control and the gate there is another security checkpoint similar to what we have in America, only more thorough. As if that wasn’t enough, there’s one more point to go through before the gate, where they examine your passport and boarding card.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer getting on a plane. Not that I’ve ever felt unsafe, but I don’t see how anyone could get something over on those guys.
As I write this I’m on the train from NYC back to the Bard Festival where tomorrow I have to resume rehearsal for the Zemlinsky. I left the hotel in Jerusalem at 8:45a this morning (Jerusalem is seven hours ahead of NY), and including transit to the airport and the 11.5 hour flight I will have been on the road 21 hours by the time I arrive at the festival. No rest for the weary, right? Or is it no rest for the wicked? I can never remember.
Anyway, thanks for reading about my adventures. I’m planning to post once or twice a week just to maintain my readership until my next big adventure. So, stay tuned and let me know if you have any topic suggestions I should write about!
Upon entering the terminal you must pass through a stringent security line before even getting to the check-in counter. In this line they take your passport and ask you a series of questions. I told them why I had been there and actually had a program in my briefcase that I showed. Then of course they ask things like “did you make any friends while you were here?” etc etc, in addition to the standard questions about who packed your luggage et al (which they actually ask like they care). They also seem to have this routine where one person will be talking to you and asking questions (which they actually do in a pretty conversational fashion) and one of their colleagues will “stop by” and join in just to change up the rhythm. Seems like a pretty good tactic to me, you have to have your story straight.
After this they x-ray all of your luggage, and THEN they take it all and open everything in front of you, going through all of it very thoroughly and asking questions the whole time. After closing up your luggage you are then allowed to approach the check-in counter. After checking-in you go to passport control. And no, it’s not over. Between passport control and the gate there is another security checkpoint similar to what we have in America, only more thorough. As if that wasn’t enough, there’s one more point to go through before the gate, where they examine your passport and boarding card.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer getting on a plane. Not that I’ve ever felt unsafe, but I don’t see how anyone could get something over on those guys.
As I write this I’m on the train from NYC back to the Bard Festival where tomorrow I have to resume rehearsal for the Zemlinsky. I left the hotel in Jerusalem at 8:45a this morning (Jerusalem is seven hours ahead of NY), and including transit to the airport and the 11.5 hour flight I will have been on the road 21 hours by the time I arrive at the festival. No rest for the weary, right? Or is it no rest for the wicked? I can never remember.
Anyway, thanks for reading about my adventures. I’m planning to post once or twice a week just to maintain my readership until my next big adventure. So, stay tuned and let me know if you have any topic suggestions I should write about!
The Concert
After my tour with Fr. Dimitri I ate a light early dinner and returned to the hotel for some rest and a little study. Haim picked me up at 7, one hour before the concert/broadcast, so that I could be there a little early to meet with the folks who were videotaping the concert (not for broadcast, but rather for my promotional purposes).
There were a few last minute notes to give, and then I got dressed and it was time. The broadcast is live so it’s generally the same as a regular concert except that you have to wait in the hallway offstage until the radio announcer finishes the introduction.
We started off strong; I was a little nervous, but the good kind, and went out just concentrating on a strong and energetic start to the overture, which is actually a little tricky to kick off.
The overture went quite well, and surprisingly I had to go out and bow a second time just after that. This caught me off guard but made me happy because then I knew that we had the audience where we needed them for the rest of the concert.
Whatever trepidation I may have had about the orchestra’s laid-back attitude in rehearsal was quickly washed away as they really came to play. I loved the energy they had, and their willingness to really go anywhere with me. It made for a very exciting performance where I really felt a good spontaneity. As a result, I think we were really able to make the music there in that moment, even if the phrasing or tempi varied slightly from what we had rehearsed, we went there together. The performance was not flawless but we communicated what was between the notes, which to me is the most important part. This was confirmed at the end of the concert when I had to return to the stage FOUR times during the ovation. I was very happy for the orchestra and made a point to direct the acknowledgement toward them. It’s very possible that this was the last subscription concert for this orchestra, and I wanted the audience to understand that if the orchestra goes under they are losing something very special.
After the concert many players came by my dressing room and said some very nice things, including that they hope I’ll be coming back soon (assuming there’s an orchestra to come back to!). I was very honored by this and have a deep appreciation not only for their hard work on this difficult and little known repertoire, but also their passion in making the performance something to remember. Several audience members also came back, and I was very happy to hear that they certainly felt that passion too!
There were a few last minute notes to give, and then I got dressed and it was time. The broadcast is live so it’s generally the same as a regular concert except that you have to wait in the hallway offstage until the radio announcer finishes the introduction.
We started off strong; I was a little nervous, but the good kind, and went out just concentrating on a strong and energetic start to the overture, which is actually a little tricky to kick off.
The overture went quite well, and surprisingly I had to go out and bow a second time just after that. This caught me off guard but made me happy because then I knew that we had the audience where we needed them for the rest of the concert.
Whatever trepidation I may have had about the orchestra’s laid-back attitude in rehearsal was quickly washed away as they really came to play. I loved the energy they had, and their willingness to really go anywhere with me. It made for a very exciting performance where I really felt a good spontaneity. As a result, I think we were really able to make the music there in that moment, even if the phrasing or tempi varied slightly from what we had rehearsed, we went there together. The performance was not flawless but we communicated what was between the notes, which to me is the most important part. This was confirmed at the end of the concert when I had to return to the stage FOUR times during the ovation. I was very happy for the orchestra and made a point to direct the acknowledgement toward them. It’s very possible that this was the last subscription concert for this orchestra, and I wanted the audience to understand that if the orchestra goes under they are losing something very special.
After the concert many players came by my dressing room and said some very nice things, including that they hope I’ll be coming back soon (assuming there’s an orchestra to come back to!). I was very honored by this and have a deep appreciation not only for their hard work on this difficult and little known repertoire, but also their passion in making the performance something to remember. Several audience members also came back, and I was very happy to hear that they certainly felt that passion too!
Church of the Holy Sepulchre
So as I said, yesterday (Wednesday) was fairly uneventful. The highlight of my day was after rehearsal when Richard (bassoonist) took me to a very authentic hole-in-the-wall where we had an amazing lunch of hummus, falafel, and various other local foods. It was amazing, the best meal I've had during my time here.
I didn't go out during the afternoon, opting to stay at the hotel to rest, study, and catch up on a few things.
Today was the biggest day yet, in a number of ways. We had our last rehearsal this morning, which was also recorded by the broadcasting folks. The broadcast is live, but apparently they come to the dress rehearsal just to set everything for the performance.
After rehearsal I returned to the hotel, had a phone interview with the Jerusalem Post, and then met up with Father Dimitri to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Fr. Dimitri holds a senior position in the Greek Patriarchate and has been in Jerusalem for twenty years.
Previously I had started to wonder if I was jaded. I've spent a few days here out and about visiting famous sites, but never really felt much of a deeper connection beyond what I would feel seeing similar things in Europe. Not that these things weren't beautiful, but they didn't make me feel anything emotional.
Today was different. I met Fr. Dimitri at the Jaffa Gate and we walked directly to the square outside the church. There he started giving me all of the background of how the church came into existence (I hadn’t known at one point in history this spot was actually a garbage heap outside the main walls of Jerusalem).
Upon entering the church the first thing you see is the slab (well, a marble cover over the slab) where’s Christ’s body was laid before being entombed. There’s an immediate ineffable feeling, it was all I could do to hold back the tears. Fr. Dimitri was amazing about explaining everything and knows all the details scriptural and historic, truly the whole picture.
We then went upstairs to Golgotha, visited some of the other chapels, and then finally went to what is for Christians the holiest site on earth: the Holy Sepulchre. It’s quite an honor to visit a holy site with an official of the church. All of the staff knew Fr. Dimitri (and many pilgrims came up to him to receive a blessing), so we had instant access to everything, no waiting in lines. He would just move to the front and whoever was supervising the line would immediately stop everyone and let us enter. I guess I did feel a little bit guilty about getting to cut in front of people who had been waiting for a long time (the line at the sepulchre was particularly long), but it was a blessing since I didn’t have much time.
The sepulchure was amazing. You enter a vestibule and then duck down into a cave like room that is the actual tomb. Fr. Dimitri entered with me and then left me alone, having the guy hold everyone so I could spend a couple of minutes in there by myself (a real honor). It’s difficult to explain the feeling, I just knelt there not knowing what to think or say, just filled with gratefulness. Even typing this now I become emotional recalling the experience.
One of the other things that I had never realized is how close all of these things are to each other; the temporary place where they held Him as a prisoner before the crucifixion, Golgotha, the tomb, etc.
It was an amazing experience that was made even more meaningful by having Fr. Dimitri as my guide. I wish I had some pictures to post, but even though I took my camera I didn’t take any. Somehow I felt as though taking pictures would cheapen the experience; it’s one to remember in the heart, and the mind’s eye, not digitally.
Fr. Dimitri and I parted with him giving a blessing for my concert, and a promise to take me more places next time I come and have more time. He really wants to take me to more outlying areas such as Jericho.
There were really only two more things I wished I could have seen during my visit, the Dome of the Rock (the inside) and the Dead Sea scrolls exhibit at the Israel Museum. Unfortunately my schedule didn’t really allow me to get to either, especially the Dome of the Rock since it closes to non-Muslims at 2 pm. Next time!
I didn't go out during the afternoon, opting to stay at the hotel to rest, study, and catch up on a few things.
Today was the biggest day yet, in a number of ways. We had our last rehearsal this morning, which was also recorded by the broadcasting folks. The broadcast is live, but apparently they come to the dress rehearsal just to set everything for the performance.
After rehearsal I returned to the hotel, had a phone interview with the Jerusalem Post, and then met up with Father Dimitri to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Fr. Dimitri holds a senior position in the Greek Patriarchate and has been in Jerusalem for twenty years.
Previously I had started to wonder if I was jaded. I've spent a few days here out and about visiting famous sites, but never really felt much of a deeper connection beyond what I would feel seeing similar things in Europe. Not that these things weren't beautiful, but they didn't make me feel anything emotional.
Today was different. I met Fr. Dimitri at the Jaffa Gate and we walked directly to the square outside the church. There he started giving me all of the background of how the church came into existence (I hadn’t known at one point in history this spot was actually a garbage heap outside the main walls of Jerusalem).
Upon entering the church the first thing you see is the slab (well, a marble cover over the slab) where’s Christ’s body was laid before being entombed. There’s an immediate ineffable feeling, it was all I could do to hold back the tears. Fr. Dimitri was amazing about explaining everything and knows all the details scriptural and historic, truly the whole picture.
We then went upstairs to Golgotha, visited some of the other chapels, and then finally went to what is for Christians the holiest site on earth: the Holy Sepulchre. It’s quite an honor to visit a holy site with an official of the church. All of the staff knew Fr. Dimitri (and many pilgrims came up to him to receive a blessing), so we had instant access to everything, no waiting in lines. He would just move to the front and whoever was supervising the line would immediately stop everyone and let us enter. I guess I did feel a little bit guilty about getting to cut in front of people who had been waiting for a long time (the line at the sepulchre was particularly long), but it was a blessing since I didn’t have much time.
The sepulchure was amazing. You enter a vestibule and then duck down into a cave like room that is the actual tomb. Fr. Dimitri entered with me and then left me alone, having the guy hold everyone so I could spend a couple of minutes in there by myself (a real honor). It’s difficult to explain the feeling, I just knelt there not knowing what to think or say, just filled with gratefulness. Even typing this now I become emotional recalling the experience.
One of the other things that I had never realized is how close all of these things are to each other; the temporary place where they held Him as a prisoner before the crucifixion, Golgotha, the tomb, etc.
It was an amazing experience that was made even more meaningful by having Fr. Dimitri as my guide. I wish I had some pictures to post, but even though I took my camera I didn’t take any. Somehow I felt as though taking pictures would cheapen the experience; it’s one to remember in the heart, and the mind’s eye, not digitally.
Fr. Dimitri and I parted with him giving a blessing for my concert, and a promise to take me more places next time I come and have more time. He really wants to take me to more outlying areas such as Jericho.
There were really only two more things I wished I could have seen during my visit, the Dome of the Rock (the inside) and the Dead Sea scrolls exhibit at the Israel Museum. Unfortunately my schedule didn’t really allow me to get to either, especially the Dome of the Rock since it closes to non-Muslims at 2 pm. Next time!
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Ok, ok
A quick post to say that I just returned from the concert, which went very well. I'm headed out to have a beer with the concertmaster, but will post more details tonight!
(I wasn't playing hookey yesterday, just didn't have a lot to report)
(I wasn't playing hookey yesterday, just didn't have a lot to report)
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
I've walked a mile, or four...
After returning from my marathon rehearsal today I decided to make my trek to the Mount of Olives. The disadvantage of my rehearsal schedule is that many of the sites close in the late and some even early afternoon, so by the time I get back from rehearsal, eat some lunch and have a little rest it's hard to get there in time.
But I'm sort of ok with that, since I'm more into seeing the whole environment than going inside every place. Thursday afternoon Father Dimtri (from the Greek Patriachate) is going to take me in the major places of the old city (Church of the Holy Sepulchure, etc.), and those are the ones I really wanted to see.
Anyway, today I decided I would have a walk up to the Mount and stay for sunset. I walked to the old city and in through the Jaffa Gate, cutting through and exiting out the Zion Gate. Since I'm so smart, I thought I would ignore the guidebook's advice to take a bus or taxi to the top of the mountain and walk down. Um, yeah, I'm smart. It's not only a pretty long haul, but bloody steep to boot. I soldiered up passing many important places on the way including the Garden of Gethsemane, the Church of All Nations and the Church of St. Mary Magdalene (a stunning Russian Orthodox Church complete with gilded onion domes).
The hike was totally worth it. Of course this vantage point is most famous for its view of the old city, including the famous Dome of the Rock, which I haven't been able to visit because it closes to non-Muslims at 2 pm. Equally stunning, though, is the view of the other side of the mountain, where you see the desert that just seems to go for miles and miles, it's own image disappearing into itself. This particular photo is of the road leading to Bethpage village, from where Jesus is said to have ridden on Palm Sunday.
Upon arriving at the top very hot and sweaty, I rewarded myself with a Magnum ice cream bar (a favorite that I discovered in Europe, not sold in the US), which I ate while sitting on the steps of the Mosque of the Ascension (yes, that ascension).
After finishing, I had some time to kill before sunset so I wondered around the Arab village of Al-Tur, which sits atop the mountain. There I was once again offered assistance by several locals who were anxious to show me around. Of course many of them are children, and they're smart. They've figured out that in some areas you can be within 100 yards of something, even be able to see it, but have trouble finding the entrance because it's off some alleyway or "street" that you would never guess to walk down.
Although I had already seen everything up there I really wanted to see, a particular young lad of about seven or eight was very insistent that I needed his assistance. He started following me, pointing things out in his very broken English, and very proud to tell his friends on the street that he was taking me around. After a bit I decided to get rid of him, and gave him a five shekel coin. He immediately bargained me up ten; he knew I had it because I had made the mistake of taking two coins out of my pocket and giving him only one. He said "goodbyes," and I walked off down the street.
Well, perhaps he thought he hadn't given me my money's worth. As I was walking down the street several hundred yards away a car screeched up and he hopped out, flashing his big smile. He had actually gotten someone to give him a ride down the road to find me. He immediately started talking again, asking where I was from, and pointing out various scenic interests (although it was pretty obvious to me that I was looking down on Jerusalem). He followed me down the mountain a bit to the point from where I wanted to watch the sunset, at one point wiggling his skinny little body through a wrought iron fence to take an olive branch from someone's tree as a gift for me.
At this point I figured he was around to stay for a bit, so we walked together down to the Tomb of the Prophets and sat on an ancient stone wall, dangling our feet off the side. He asked my name and then introduced himself as Massah. So there Massah and I sat, occasionally exchanging a word or two, him flipping through looking at all the pictures in my guidebook and pointing out the things he knew. He asked where I slept and I said a hotel, I asked where he slept and he pointed to the top of the mountain.
As the sun set I started taking pictures and he wanted to try his hand at it so I gave him my camera, only midly worried that he might take off with it. He didn't and actually had a pretty good eye for it, carefully examining several landscapes before framing his photo, which he was very pleased with when he examined it on the screen.
After the sun had set and I had taken my pictures I bid Massah goodbye, and we parted ways. After I was part way down the mountain I heard someone calling and turned to see him way up there, waving to me.
I got to the bottom of the mountain and decided to continue around the old city so that I would have walked the entire circumference (a little bit inside, mostly around the wall itself). The old city doesn't seem so big when you're in it, but walked the perimeter gave me a much better idea of its size (I later looked it up adn they say walking around the wall is about 2.5 miles). By that time it was totally dark and the city takes on a whole new life.
So I've got some sore feet that will probably be moreso tomorrow, but am glad to have met a little opportunist and had some company for a little while.
But I'm sort of ok with that, since I'm more into seeing the whole environment than going inside every place. Thursday afternoon Father Dimtri (from the Greek Patriachate) is going to take me in the major places of the old city (Church of the Holy Sepulchure, etc.), and those are the ones I really wanted to see.
Anyway, today I decided I would have a walk up to the Mount and stay for sunset. I walked to the old city and in through the Jaffa Gate, cutting through and exiting out the Zion Gate. Since I'm so smart, I thought I would ignore the guidebook's advice to take a bus or taxi to the top of the mountain and walk down. Um, yeah, I'm smart. It's not only a pretty long haul, but bloody steep to boot. I soldiered up passing many important places on the way including the Garden of Gethsemane, the Church of All Nations and the Church of St. Mary Magdalene (a stunning Russian Orthodox Church complete with gilded onion domes).
The hike was totally worth it. Of course this vantage point is most famous for its view of the old city, including the famous Dome of the Rock, which I haven't been able to visit because it closes to non-Muslims at 2 pm. Equally stunning, though, is the view of the other side of the mountain, where you see the desert that just seems to go for miles and miles, it's own image disappearing into itself. This particular photo is of the road leading to Bethpage village, from where Jesus is said to have ridden on Palm Sunday.
Upon arriving at the top very hot and sweaty, I rewarded myself with a Magnum ice cream bar (a favorite that I discovered in Europe, not sold in the US), which I ate while sitting on the steps of the Mosque of the Ascension (yes, that ascension).
After finishing, I had some time to kill before sunset so I wondered around the Arab village of Al-Tur, which sits atop the mountain. There I was once again offered assistance by several locals who were anxious to show me around. Of course many of them are children, and they're smart. They've figured out that in some areas you can be within 100 yards of something, even be able to see it, but have trouble finding the entrance because it's off some alleyway or "street" that you would never guess to walk down.
Although I had already seen everything up there I really wanted to see, a particular young lad of about seven or eight was very insistent that I needed his assistance. He started following me, pointing things out in his very broken English, and very proud to tell his friends on the street that he was taking me around. After a bit I decided to get rid of him, and gave him a five shekel coin. He immediately bargained me up ten; he knew I had it because I had made the mistake of taking two coins out of my pocket and giving him only one. He said "goodbyes," and I walked off down the street.
Well, perhaps he thought he hadn't given me my money's worth. As I was walking down the street several hundred yards away a car screeched up and he hopped out, flashing his big smile. He had actually gotten someone to give him a ride down the road to find me. He immediately started talking again, asking where I was from, and pointing out various scenic interests (although it was pretty obvious to me that I was looking down on Jerusalem). He followed me down the mountain a bit to the point from where I wanted to watch the sunset, at one point wiggling his skinny little body through a wrought iron fence to take an olive branch from someone's tree as a gift for me.
At this point I figured he was around to stay for a bit, so we walked together down to the Tomb of the Prophets and sat on an ancient stone wall, dangling our feet off the side. He asked my name and then introduced himself as Massah. So there Massah and I sat, occasionally exchanging a word or two, him flipping through looking at all the pictures in my guidebook and pointing out the things he knew. He asked where I slept and I said a hotel, I asked where he slept and he pointed to the top of the mountain.
As the sun set I started taking pictures and he wanted to try his hand at it so I gave him my camera, only midly worried that he might take off with it. He didn't and actually had a pretty good eye for it, carefully examining several landscapes before framing his photo, which he was very pleased with when he examined it on the screen.
After the sun had set and I had taken my pictures I bid Massah goodbye, and we parted ways. After I was part way down the mountain I heard someone calling and turned to see him way up there, waving to me.
I got to the bottom of the mountain and decided to continue around the old city so that I would have walked the entire circumference (a little bit inside, mostly around the wall itself). The old city doesn't seem so big when you're in it, but walked the perimeter gave me a much better idea of its size (I later looked it up adn they say walking around the wall is about 2.5 miles). By that time it was totally dark and the city takes on a whole new life.
So I've got some sore feet that will probably be moreso tomorrow, but am glad to have met a little opportunist and had some company for a little while.
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