Last but not least on our Israelian journey was to visit Jerusalem. We had heard so many different things about when to go. Friday night in Judaism begins their shabbat, and we read that to go between Friday and Saturday was a horrible idea and that people wearing clothes that didn’t fully cover themselves could be so much as stoned by the very religious townspeople.
We left Israel Sunday, and Antoine and I, both devout Catholics, agreed that you can’t go to Israel and not visit Jerusalem. I really wanted to see Bethlehem too, but it’s unfortunately too ravaged by war. So, Saturday we woke up early and went out into the scorching heat completely covered. I had more trouble covering myself completely than Antoine, and it was very frustrating – and hot.
We went to a cute beach-themed restaurant for breakfast and it was probably the best meal I’d had since I’d been to Israel (outside of the French wedding food). We kept asking every waiter and local we could about advice on how to get to Jerusalem and if it was safe and they told us in broken English.
Upon the locals’ advice we took sheruts to Jerusalem. A sherut is a shared taxi, or a van, and the only public transportation available on shabbat. As I watched the city I’d grown comfortable with become a speck in the distance, my heart raced to enter new, more dangerous territory. I clutched Antoine’s hand and away we went.
I guess I wasn’t too too scared, because in no time at all I opened my eyes and we were there (I’d drifted a bit during the ride). We’d reached the end of the line, so we hopped off and found ourselves in a desolate, run-down village on the outskirts of the walled old city. We’d arrived.
We walked forward a bit per the driver’s recommendation, following a group of girls who I was relieved to find were dressed less conservatively than myself. When Antoine and I spotted the golden Dome of the Rock, we knew where we had to go. It was an indescribable experience being there, walking the streets that Jesus had walked.
We made our way towards the Dome of the Rock and found many street carts selling falafel and other Israeli delicacies, as well as many tourist shops. We saw that the whole old city of Jerusalem was walled-in, and it reminded Antoine and I of the walled city of Dubrovnik we had visited last summer.
We made our way into the place, and I wasn’t sure if it was acceptable to hold Antoine’s hand so I settled for holding onto his arm for dear life. American media had made me feel that we could experience a bombing any minute. We entered through the main gate and followed the signs to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. We passed by some gift shops and I knew we needed souvenirs so I ducked into one quickly. 15 minutes, one charming salesman, countless gifts and 300 euros later we were back on track…
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is one of the holiest sites in many religions. It is where Jesus Christ was crucified and the empty tomb he was buried and resurrected from. I really can’t describe the feelings of being there. It was honestly the most religious experience of my life and I feel so privileged to have witnessed it first hand.
Afterwards we tried to find our way to the Western Wall. We got a bit lost, and keep in mind that it was Shabbat and the streets were dead. Every once in awhile we saw Jewish men and children in full garb and they snickered at us, the only tourists who had lost their way. Finally we relocated a sign pointing us to the wall and continued up the cobblestones. I wasn’t expecting much out of the roads of such an ancient city, but these roads really went beyond. As I was walking down some stairs, lugging half of our souvenirs in my little black strappy sandals, my foot slipped in a cobbled hole and I fell down a step, twisting my ankle in the process. The pain was excruciating and tears fell down my face, but I knew I had to keep my cool in such a dangerous place, in which our very presence seemed to be creating uproar.
Antoine nearly carried me down to the Western Wall, and there we saw it. I didn’t actually know about the Western Wall before coming. It is the holiest site where Jews are allowed to pray, since they are not allowed to the holiest site in their faith – the Temple of the Mount behind it.
Men must wear kippahs to enter the wall, and women and men are separated by a big wall for prayer. There were guards with machine guns watching it and it was very strict. Seeing as I could barely stand without the support of Antoine, it was impossible to separate and pray at the wall, but we got so close it was still amazing.
Next we were ready to leave, but didn’t end up doing so for another 1-2 hours. (Those streets are a glorified maze, I swear!) We were very lost and trying to find the entrance, and then we saw a sign that said we were in the Jewish Quarter. We kept walking until a guard stopped us and said “Sorry” and we looked at him questioningly until he said “Muslims only”. We had been trying to enter the Muslim Quarter! We ran away quickly, feeling entirely unwelcome and ready to get back to our metropolitan Tel Aviv. A little Muslim boy noticed we were lost and helped us find our way, and Antoine gave him a 10 shekel piece for his time. The little boy said “This is nothing. Just give me nothing if that is all you’re going to give me.” and we apologized that that was all we had and ran away again, me clutching my purse tightly. Finally we asked some guards (with scary guns) the way out and made it. We found the sherut home and our Jerusalem adventure was over.
That night was our last night in Tel Aviv. The wedding party was going clubbing, so at about midnight we joined in per Antoine’s request. I had had my teeth brushed and my pajamas on, so let’s just take a moment to soak in what a great girlfriend I am. I put on a tight black clubbing dress and shoved my twisted ankle and completely broken off toe nail in heels and hobbled to the clubs. We got a table with the wedding party and the club was super cool! It was outdoors on the beach and multicolored smoke bellowed out of each wall. Everyone pooled together our shekels for alcohol and then we drank (and drank…and drank). I’ll tell you one thing, my French gets soooo much better with a bit of alcohol (probably because my confidence skyrockets).
We chatted with our friends Sabrina (the sister of the groom) and a couple (the man of which was the cousin of the groom). The groom bought a bottle of champagne and completely sprayed us with it, so at that point we were sweaty and smelled like champagne. Soon everyone left. And we’d only been there for maybe 1.5h! Luckily our group stuck around, and surprisingly the club closed at 4am (which is super early for Europe – not really for America but these Europeans were up in arms!) So the sober one of the group took the car. One problem. She had only ever driven a stick shift and the car was automatic. The drive was thus extremely stop and go. I admit I was drunk, but I also get huge bouts of carsickness. We all wanted something to eat so we stopped at this nice restaurant. It was probably 5-6am at this point and they were opening for business but happy for our drunken business. Well, remember the “carsickness”? Unfortunately I got to know the bathroom of the place a little too well. Also I must have been tired because I didn’t even eat the croque madame Antoine got me and instead slept (leaving my friends to take maybe the most unbecoming photos with me that exist).
We were dropped off at our bnb and we didn’t sleep until maybe 9 or 10am. It was a super weird experience walking home in clubbing clothes while people were going to work. Luckily it wasn’t the walk of shame, as I was on my boyfriend’s arm!
We woke with an hour to spare before we had to be at the airport, and cleaned up and packed as quickly as possible. I was sore and hungover, but happy. What an experience Israel had turned out to be!!
Amy Nicole 
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