The Western Wall plaza in the old city of Jerusalem is a hectic place.
The wall itself – the closest point to the original location of the Holy of Holies on the Temple Mount above – is the place of Jewish pilgrimage. Every day sees thousands of tourists, children celebrating their Bath or Bar Mitzvah and faithful mourners making their way through the plaza. The Israel Defense Force patrol with arms bared (often in more ways than one), and thick, steel gates with metal detectors and X-ray scanners mark each entry and exit.
Busy, energetic and surprisingly modern and western.
Make you way through the almost hidden foreigner’s gate, through one last X-ray scanner, up the wooden ramp and onto the Temple Mount itself, and you enter a different world.
Yes, the I.D.F. still mark the entrance, but this world is definitely Arab. Old men in Middle Eastern dress sit in circles talking, and no one is in any hurry at all. There is far more space and many more trees than you’d expect (It’s like stepping into the Tardis; from the outside, it doesn’t look like all this space should exist.). The language is different and the so is the architecture. Standing infront of the Al-Aqsa mosque at the south end of the mount, surrounded by Arabic, I could be back in Amman (not to pick at faults, but the half discarded construction material doesn’t hurt either 😉 ).
When we were there, we figured this relaxing locale was the perfect spot for lunch. We found a seat on the steps leading up to the Dome of the Rock and ate our olives, hummus and bread overlooking the Mount of Olives. After that, we walked back down off temple mount and forward about 400 years.
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