Kingdom of Heaven

Travellers are hesitant to visit Jerusalem, perhaps now better known for the conflict crippling the region. But those who venture there discover a magnificent world, writes Amal Awad

The first time I saw Jerusalem, I was too young to appreciate the amazing things it had to offer. I was about six years old, and admittedly I spent a good portion of the afternoon crying for my parents, who’d ventured into the old city to pray at the Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa mosque. Thankfully, the few times I have returned, I enjoyed a more enriching experience – and there were no tears.

As I stroll through the narrow lanes of the souk (markets) as an adult, there are so many things I find striking. Bustling with activity, it’s hard to believe that Jerusalem is in a place riven by devastating chaos. The hidden souks are reminiscent of ages past, the banter and haggling of shopkeepers and patrons filling the tiny walkways. It is positively buzzing with action: buying, selling, pointing, eating, worshipping. And I have barely scratched the city’s surface.

I once wrote about the intoxicating effect the Middle East has on me whenever I return there. Here it is amplified, my senses heightened in appreciation and desire to see everything and absorb the electric atmosphere coursing through the city. A history buff, I am entranced by the landmarks, unable to contemplate the narrative Jerusalem could offer if it spoke.

I find myself wishing I have a way to capture the majesty of the religious monuments that stand peacefully and proud, to bottle up Jerusalem’s distinctive ambience. It gives the impression of history and modernity blending effortlessly into a joyfully hectic whole. There is much beauty here and not even the gaudy tourist aspects can ruin it.

And Jerusalem does have its share of tourism. It is a place of history, and the religious significance of its monuments and the allure of its mountainous surrounds draw millions of people every year.

I walk past groups of pilgrims; there are a large number of tours being given in other languages. Christians embark on biblical tours and come for the Church of the Holy Sephulcre, Jews come for the Western Wall and Muslims like myself come to pray in the mosque. There is religious and historical importance for all, and the unique setting and atmosphere this creates makes Jerusalem hum feverishly with movement and a current of spirituality.

Vendors sell fresh food throughout the city, and stopping by one located in a beautiful archway, I buy a falafel sandwich. It’s delicious, unlike any I have ever tasted before – fresh pita bread with squashed tangy felafel and potato. Maybe the flavours seem richer because of the rawness of my surroundings; it’s just a sandwich, I know. But I can’t help thinking Jerusalem has a lot more to share, the simple things offering something new, coloured by a different perspective.

In fact, the ordinary seems extraordinary here: later, when on my way up from the city to a neighbouring town, I’m stuck in a traffic jam at the top of a winding mountain road. It’s really unlike anything I have ever experienced; strangely calm and static, but positively pulsing. At least there’s a view – the mountains hugging the landscape are stunning, and the mix of cars and people lend the jam a unique feel.

I consider myself lucky to be able to see and experience any of this at all. The Jerusalem my parents can remember many years ago is slightly different to the one I saw last. There was an ease of movement that travellers no longer enjoy. But beyond checkpoints and restrictions, if you’re lucky enough to make it to the Holy Land, you will be taken aback by the atmosphere and beauty of what surrounds you.

For the most part I observe an enticing mix of culture in Jerusalem. School kids with backpacks running through the souk, chattering excitedly, Arabs selling souvenirs and jewellery in their tiny shop spaces, Muslim, Christian and Jewish worshippers traversing the squares to get to their places of worship.

As I meander, I try to memorise it all; I don’t know when I’ll have the opportunity to see this again.

I spend some time in the souk, stopping to consider the various trinkets and jewellery on offer. Much of what I see can be found anywhere in the world, but there is the occasional gem or kitschy trinket that’s begging to be purchased. And you do want the memory; you want something that will seem unique when you’re admiring it later because the experience you’re having is distinctive.

I haggle with shopkeepers who are dramatic but playful in their bargaining. They love what they do, and I suspect they enjoy the stream of varying cultures that filter through their narrow markets.

Later I’m on my way to the mosque, the call to prayer piercing my ear unexpectedly. It seems natural to hear it as I navigate the archways and stairs leading there, the heat and blue sky piercing my senses. I know I won’t forget this special moment.

At present there are travel advisories against venturing to Israel and the West Bank due to the trouble affecting the region. But many travellers will still make their way there. The beauty of the Holy Land is that it will always offer a unique and humbling experience, despite the difficulties.

Jerusalem, while succumbing to the tourism element, offers a deep experience. This is not for the seeker of watered-down flight. Make your way there in the summer and bask in the splendour of the Holy Land.

This article was originally published here.