Shabbat in Israel is more than just a weekend; it is a way of life. And this way of life is best experienced in Jerusalem – the city that prays. Shabbat in the rest of the country will be evident and maybe even shocking to tourists but it is not until one visits the ‘holy city’ that one begins to grasp the gravity and religious rigidity of shabbat. Shabbat is taken very seriously here, considering that 30 per cent of Jerusalem’s population identify themselves as ultra-orthodox as opposed to a meagre 2 per cent in Tel Aviv and the country’s average of 9 per cent. Coming from a different culture and a family that is highly liberal, I find spending shabbat in Jerusalem to be a very unique, extraordinary and peculiar experience at the same time.
Having visited Jerusalem on every day of the week, I have come to the conclusion that Friday is the best day to spend in Jerusalem. Of course if you are able to spend more than a day, that is the best way to experience Jerusalem. But if you have just one day, make that day count and make it Friday.
Jerusalem in the morning is abuzz. Grocery shopping is the main activity of the day, and you are bound to see packed super markets and old couples hobbling down the road with bags full of pita breads and challah. As the shoppers walk past, the sweet whiff of freshly baked challah finds it way to my nose and I am in bread heaven for a while.
It is now that I head to the Old City and get lost in the narrow lanes, hopping from one roof to another, from one quarter to another, from one century into another. Breathing in the history as I walk down the Via Dolorosa and into the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. I gaze around taking in all the sights and the magificiently golden Dome of the Rock and then quietly watch pilgrims as they walk up to the Western Wall and break into tears mourning their Temple.
I always end my tour of the Old City at Damascus Gate because it is the most magnificent of all the gates of the Old City. I sit here watching the city slowly shut down. The flow of people in and out of the city tapers and with that splendour of the gate grows; looking bigger as the traffic ebbs away.
Soon it is sundown and the last bus has dropped off the last shoppers back to their homes, the light rail has stopped functioning by now, and so it is time for me to get back on my feet to now see this city as it shuts down for the religious weekend. If there is life in this city, it is at the Mahane Yehuda market now. The market is chaotic in the last hour of the day. The whole city is just settling into a comfortable pace for the weekend but the market is just bustling. This is the right time for the best bargains. Did I just hear four challahs for 10 shekels?! Yes! I go back following the scent of a zillion challahs clamouring to fly off the racks. Oh! I the soft curves of the golden brown challah melt me as she sits on this rack mighty as a Queen. No one can cross this rack without picking up four challahs. Organising shabbat dinner for the family will be a breeze with this challahs.
As the sun sets, I join the Haredi (Ultra-Orthodox) Jews walking down the light rail tracks back to the Old City. I pick a hat and follow it. This time the Old City is vacant and there is an eerie silence that is broken only by the sound of footfalls of pilgrims heading to the Western Wall. They are pouring in from all over the city through every gate of the Old City. They walk fast, their strides are long and exact. This is a journey they take up from their homes to the Wall every weekend, if not every day. In my purple jacket I stand out like a sore thumb in the midst of people clad mostly in black from head to toe. The only pop of colour I see is in their eyes – green or blue.
The Old City which was a riot of colour, bustling with tourists, shoppers and locals just a few hours ago has gone to sleep, it is just 4pm! A juice vendor calls out, offering pomegranate juice, it must be dregs from his last batch. I say no, thank you and carry on. In a corner of the Old City’s Islamic Quarter, a son is helping his father wrap up the business for the day. In the Jewish Quarter, opposite the Hurva Synagogue families gather chatting and catching up.
This time when I reach the Western Wall I just stand at the top of the steps leading to the Wall. From here I can see a large gathering reciting prayers near the Wall, it is a dull hum. I do not enter the prayer enclosures this time. I watch quietly from far way.
The sun has set by now and the stomach is growling after all the walking. I head back to the Damascus Gate, this time because if I have a chance of finding food anywhere in the city, it is here, on the edge of East Jerusalem. I go to the first falafel vendor I find, grab a falafel and give my feet a little rest. Given the physical exhaustion I have subjected myself to, I think I deserve some dessert. I find a baker who has some knaffeh left in the tray. I order a portion of knaffeh and now my day feels complete.
Shabbat Shalom!
Previous posts on Jerusalem are here and here.
Logistics:
To Jerusalem from Tel Aviv : Egged bus from Arlozorov Terminal or Central Bus station – 19 NIS
To Tel Aviv fom Jerusalem: Sherut from anywhere in the city – 35 NIS. A good place to look for a Sherut is the Central Bus Station, Damascus Gate, or around Ha Davidka Square (around Abraham Hostel)