There’s still more to see (or see again!)

I’m old enough to have to look at photographs I’ve taken each day to remember the order in which things happened – for example I forgot to tell you that on my first venture out of the hotel I found a jewellery shop called Moriah where they take bits of the Temple Rock from excavations and make stunning pieces of jewellery: maybe a tree of life pendant or a map of Israel shape with a diamond placed exactly where Jerusalem is. What’s not to love about such an original idea from such a special place?!

In some ways this third day might be considered a waste: I wanted to get to Damascus Gate to see what the markets were looking like and back to the pottery – the latter would be done on my way to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre for the processions in the late afternoon. So I set out along the Cardo and made my way through the Muslim souk – also hoping for photogenic groups on their way to the mosque for the festival celebration. Most Muslims really don’t like having their photo taken but on this trip, as in June, I’ve found one or two willing to cooperate. A few have wanted photos with or of their children. And then there’ve been the NOs!

But no threat of No from those in the souk when I was looking down at them or from the Orthodox Jew on his motorised scooter who simply isn’t aware of the camera.

Better luck in the souk, though with the man in the coffee shop telling me all the problems in the Middle East were my fault because I happen to be British – but that Trump is worse than the Brits were….and another who was sitting reading the Koran despite the activity around him.

and, of course, the market traders:

All before coffee and strudel at the Lutheran Hospice and a view of the rooftops from its roof.

Then back to the hotel for a breather before what was to be an inspiring afternoon.

The courtyard was fairly quiet when I arrived and my eye was drawn to a conversation taking place in one of the corners: a tour guide was getting very animated in describing the importance of the place to his clients. The crosses behind him made it particularly noticeable.

Moving inside I was struck by the fact that the church was busy but the steps up to Golgotha were shut off and a somewhat ferocious young man was shooing everyone away saying ‘closed for half an hour’. Caught on the quiet and asked politely what was going on he explained that there was about to be a procession: the daily procession led by the Catholics was about to move through. Later, I was to see them at the Tomb.

A little later, the Armenians came through, equally impressive sounds and more impressive garb. The colour in these image doesn’t really do justice to the spectacle. They need some work!

For me, what was most important was to hear the church resounding with unaccompanied chanting so right for the environment and to hear praise being offered in a place so redolent of a museum and yet central to the faith of so many.

I wish I could easily bring you those sounds!