Sabbath's Eve

This morning, I thought I would take the souther route from the Pontifical Biblical Institute towards the Old City. Interesting buildings dot this route. I was waylaid as I detoured onto the Artist's Walk, with European-styled apartments and walkways set in a park. It was fascinating to see the use of space. I think I should have been an urban designer. It took 1.5 hours and I returned in time to see off Fr. Jose Maria.

I told him about the Terrace of the Kings of Spain. He wanted to see it and it was only 10 minutes by foot, so I took him. He was so pleased. He made it back in time for lunch and his departure to Rome. I enjoyed his company.

On the way back I entered the King David Hotel. It is known as the most prestigious in Jerusalem. Perhaps it is, but it seemed rather basic to me. It has been there for a long time. I then walked across the street to the YMCA. It was also very nice. A man from Montclair, New Jersey built it as a place of peace in 1934.

Some of the vendors and taxi cab drivers are tiring. I am very honest with them from the start. I tell them I am not interested, but they keep asking questions to find a way to convince me otherwise. I respond by telling them that I will answer their question, but my answer is still "no" and will be "no" by the end of the conversation. They are boundary bullies.

After lunch I took a shortcut to Ben Yahuda, but I got lost without a Baedeker. I made it too late to the shop where I wanted to buy a jigsaw puzzle. I enjoyed getting lost, but as the sun was beginning to set, the landscape changed considerably as people prepared for the Sabbath.

I was far from my tourist home and I kept going deeper into darkened, more run-down sections of town. I could not see any cityscape so I had to guess where the sun was setting and walk in the other direction. For a while, the place was like a ghost town.

I realized I wandered into a conservative Ashkenazi neighborhood. Men who round furry hats that were quite funny-looking, but they were well dressed. Women were nicely dressed in their dark colors. It really gave me a sense of the seriousness of their worship. Often families were together. Everything was impressive in its own right and it reveals to me how little I know of the Jewish faith. I know little of the Islamic faith.

Many of the poorer people didn't have the same religious observances. I don't think they feel terribly welcome.

I wonder why all three major religions like to dress in ancient attire. Somehow it makes us feel connected. The fashions are great, but they seem like external manifestations of an internal reality.

I was exhausted when I came back and I had to prepare to say Mass. This is the beginning of the octave of Christian unity. I offered Mass for a friend from Cambridge who lost her brother a year ago at the end of January and for his wife who is struggling.

Isn't it magical how a shower invigorates the body. After dragging myself there, I had new speed and energy for the rest of the evening.

Earlier in the week I saw the movies Argo and Arbitrage. I enjoyed Arbitrage much more. I've yet to see Lincoln.

Oh, yes. I saw a man with a New England Patriots hat. I said, "Go Pats." He lit up and gave me a high five.

Paul-Émile Botta,  (born Dec. 6, 1802, Turin, Piedmont [Italy]—died March 29, 1870, Achères, France), French consul and archaeologist whose momentous discovery of the palace of the Assyrian king Sargon II at Dur Sharrukin (modern Khorsabad), Iraq, in 1843, initiated the large-scale field archaeology of ancient Mesopotamia.

To see photos of my day, click on the link below:

1. Pics of Paul Emile Botta Part 1
2. Pics of Paul Emile Botta Part 2
2. Pics of A Walk to the Latin Patriarchate