Modern Nazareth.
I step off the public bus in Nazareth. I drag my pack out of the luggage compartment and step away from the curb. The bus fumes away. It is early evening.
I draw a deep breath. Here we go.
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I climb up the metal stairs to see the Charming Man. This is my second attempt today. On the first attempt, the wait was so long that the shebab were sitting on the stairs. I picked my way through them so I could look into the narrow room. The two chairs were full and still more shebab were lined up on the couches. I am twice the age of every stripling there. The Charming Man spotted me and waved me in. I declined, pressing my hand to my heart.
On several occasions I have tried in vain to visit the Russian Orthodox Church on the Mount of Olives. It is not visitor-friendly, to say the least. There is a four-meter stone wall surrounding the property topped by a wrought iron fence. Three steel doors appear to be the only way in. Views to the central building within are easily obtained from a distance; those seven golden “onion domes” make it one of the most recognized buildings in all Jerusalem. Still, I wanted a closer look at this sample of “Moscow in the Middle East.”
Within the Muslim world, the period of fasting known as Ramadan has come. We heard the signs of its arrival on Thursday with intermittent fireworks popping in the sky. When we walked down the streets of Jerusalem’s Old City in the daytime, many Islamic shopkeepers stood wobbling on ladders, stringing up (“Christmas”) lights over their stores. Gateways, like the Damascus Gate (Bab el Amud), had a different, festive, look, especially once the sun set.
I’ve fallen back into old habits. Years ago when our family lived near here, we regularly attended services at St. Andrews (Church of Scotland). Now I find myself strolling that way again. Apart from the rich history of the building, there are good reasons to align with the work: the church plays in active role in ministering to the financially disadvantaged, they operate an English speaking school for the children of Jews/Christians/Muslims, and they market craft goods made by local women who have creative, but limited skills.
No two trips are the same. If this statement is true when traveling internationally, it is a steely reality of travel in Israel-Palestine. Embracing this truth can be scary. However, if attempted, it can free the curious explorer from the tyranny of the timetable. What is more, it suggests another, perhaps wiser, tack: stop dictating and begin engaging a culture other than your own.