After a few hours walking around, I was really happy to glance up and see this window of a church and it’s subsequent reflection of a mosque. It almost made up for having my note taken out of the wailing wall because I wasn’t a Jew, not being allowed to see the Dome of the Rock because it was Muslim Only Day and dealing with the general foreboding feeling I felt all over Jerusalem.
Almost.
Here’s the view from the roof of my cave hostel. Even after the hassle of trying to get a room (never stay at the citadel in jersualem) the view almost made up for it. It was particularly haunting at this time of night though because I heard the call to prayer fom the nearby mosque and then on another roof there was some sort of Jewish celebration going on with some weird instruments which really added to the spooky vibe.
According to the locals, the wailing wall is supposed to be a pretty non-denominational kind of thing. But after leaving my note in wall and then walking away, I couldn’t help but turn around and see one of the black jews (the orthodoxish ones that wear all black) taking my note out of the wall. Ironically, the note said something to the effect that all people regardless of religion would be able to get along…
File this under so bizarre, it’s funny. In case you didn’t know, everybody who is a citizen of Israel has to serve in the army at some point. Naturally, this creates a pretty large soldier community that you see walking around with semi-automatic killing machines. Most people are pretty used to the sight, but coming from gun free America (ha ha), it takes a little getting used to. What’s impossible to get used to is after being hit in the arm, head, whatever; the sheepish “sorry’s” you hear from the soldiers. Yes, please be sorry you’re sticking your semi automatic killing machine in my face, now would you mind moving it to your other shoulder so you can keep hitting somebody else? This is why those aren’t known as semi-automatic weapons, but instead Israeli “sorry sticks”.
This is my handstand of happiness that I made it out of Turkey and am now relaxing on a beach in Tel Aviv.
Sunset from the top of the Galata Tower with a smuggled bottle of wine and a new italian friend. Not a bad way to end my last night in Turkey.
After sleeping in a cave, I was a little reluctant to go hiking through them (they pretty much all look the same, I promise), but I’m definitely glad I got to see this.
The confused tourists I mentioned below
this is me the morning of the amazing balloon ride that i didn’t take. the coolest part (besides not actually getting to ride the balloon) is that they made us get up at 5 in the morning to herd us out to this deserted lot in the middle of nowhere to stand in the freezing cold with a whole bunch of old confused germans after pumping us full of crappy instant coffee only to tell us that, unfortunately, it was too windy that morning to ride. Now, I know in a country capable of modern technology, they for damn sure have access to weather.com. Why this wasn’t consulted is beyond me. But like I said, it was certainly the best part of my non balloon ride.
A side effect of all that turkish viagra maybe?
In Turkey, these little jobbies ward against the evil eye and this particular tree in the dessert was a spot where you could hang yours if you wanted to ward off bad fortune.
Most roadside stands sell souvenirs, but this one had to be different
I dare you to read this aloud without laughing.
Poor lighting but you get the idea.
This is what I rode on a 14 hour bathroom-less bus to see.
