Caras de la Tierra Santa

Old City

He was one of three brothers. The oldest, working his dad’s shop. None of them could speak English or Spanish but we still found ways to make one another laugh.

Via Dolorosa. Kickboxing in Rome left me limping about Jerusalem. It was far from carrying a cross but pain nonetheless. Towards the end of the road, before reaching the Holy Sepulchre, I came across a cafe. It’s warm light and interior design was something out of Aladdin. The man inside resembled a good friend of mine from Boston. His facial features, height, skin complexion and smile were that of a long lost twin brother. The only difference was his eyes.

Leaned back against the church. He had this sort of street vibe that went outside a coffee shop’s commerce. I wasn’t sure if he was working the cafe or the block.

Landing on the Sabbath had its transportation and cultural challenges. However, it lead me to entering religious circles that were out of my own world.

I already knew where to go. This soul stops me however to offer his assistance. He needed a reason to ask me for some shekels and I could use the extra company. His trained eye knew that I wasn’t from here but he could not quite put a finger on my origins. If I had not met him in the Old City, I would feel the same. I never saw eyes like his nor a complexion and face that matched any person within the walls and outside.

The Desert

It was a day trip in the valley of a desert. On our return we hitched a ride with a local cab. I bet he was expecting us, but there were too many of us for his friend to bum a ride back as well. So instead he sat on the hood of the car. The ride went from smooth to a drag race over the hard sand and our friend on the hood could do nothing but laugh at the possibility of death. Lucky for him it wasn’t a long ride. We still had miles to go but his stop was legit in the middle of nowhere. He grabbed a bucket out the trunk and soon enough we were out of sight.

One of them college kids just traveling the world and figuring it out before he has to make the decision to buckle down and get a job in his industry. Or not. What a time it was to be alive!

A great soul. The kind of man that keeps God from hitting the reset button on civilization. I answered his question with Japan. He fascinated me with his remark.

“Japan inspired us because it was a country that suffered greatly after the second war. It was nuked, had its army removed, and it has an occupation. But now it is technologically advanced, an economic powerhouse, and a safe country. All of this without any natural resources or war. I hope that my people can do the same.”

— Mohamad

Argentina

Argentino. He was homeless. He said he had been living in Israel for the last 30 years. He carried around fighting sticks for protection and was well known at the hostel. His character and demeanor were something out of a Hollywood film. Quiet, yet I had a feeling he knew more than most mortals.

As his companion, I was able to experience the tradition of the Sabbath and understand the importance of community, family, and education within one’s own home.

Abuela’s best friend. They worked together for years and still talk til this day from oceans away. Suerte to meet una mejor amiga and be given a poem.

“A Jerusalem no se va, / a Jerusalem se vuelve, / a Jerusalem se asciende / por la escala de las generaciones, / por la escala de las añoranzas, / por los peldaños de la redención. Odres repletos de memoria / trae uno consigo a Jerusalem. / Sobre cada monte, sobre cada colina, / por las blancas callejuelas de piedra / se hacen brindis con años de memoria / recién resucitados. A Jerusalem no se va, / a Jerusalem se vuelve.”

— Itsjok Ianasovich

Amigos

The sins of our fathers’ comes with us. A few generations ago his country was under a Nazi regime. I did not ask him. The thought occurred after the fact. As a German in Israel, is there a feeling of guilt? Is it difficult to establish a meaningful relationship with the Jewish community? I would imagine him acknowledging the past and brushing it off as another era. He is a different person and we are living in a different time. If generations later he is able to peacefully walk the streets of Tel Aviv, could the children of Jewish and Palestinean communities one day also do the same?

Gay and Christian. A juxtaposition I could not picture in person. But sometimes I meet someone and their friendship alone has me re-register my assumptions about the world.

The Ownerz

It took quite a search but I finally found my cross.

No pictures.

A first cup of anything can go a long way in remembering the feel, temperature, and people. I sat outside an ancient church and drank my first cup of arab coffee. It had a thick texture and strong taste to it. At the time I was not a coffee drinker, but thought I could get with this. The man at the shop hardly spoke English yet we understood how small things can bring about our joy.

He took care of all them gifts.

La Tia

Her hospitality and warm conversation was so welcoming. Her home was the foundation from which a community is built. She reminded me of my aunt in many ways. I would imagine that any boy raised by this woman would be a man no matter the odds.

Brotherz

Two shorties between the Old City and the Olives. Hustling for shekels and making a name for themselves in the ancient city. Maybe we’ll cross paths in a decade.

Hostel

Jewish hipster who was getting his Arabic up. There was a look and attitude about him that spoke of a new class of Israelites. Perhaps one that can make his enemy a friend.

Sonrisa en el Cielo

Shy in front of the camera yet not afraid to smile when looking at the sky.

No Borders

Listening to his tune, I forgot about the wars and past time grudges that keep us at each other’s throats. I believe he could have been any man or woman playing that tune in any part of the world, and we would just listen.

Can animals enjoy the music from which we humans produce?

Bethlehem Streets

There are times in our history where Christians and Muslims comes together to build something for their hybrid communities. Right by the birth of Christ, there is a mosque with that kind of history. As I stood outside its closed doors, a man without a house approached me.

Artists

She had a baby on the way and an exhibition on display. Who said motherhood holds a woman back from her dreams?

I aimlessly walked the backstreets. This gentleman made it a point to give me a warm greeting and no more. A block later I found myself at an exhibition that belonged to he and his wife. I am still wondering how a hello from a block away lead me into a space that I would generally ignore.

Hermano

He lived a life that started with an adoption. From a broken home to a broker one, he hustled and literally fought his way off the street and into the ring. After many battles, he put down the gloves and chose to walk with a purpose beyond the flesh. His journey has taken him all over the world and his life lessons have given him the ability to communicate in English, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese. A capable killer that keeps his sword in its sheath by choice. Not possessed by doctrine nor carefree. He walks the center line that keeps the world from splitting in half.

Reflections

I am not one for selfies. But this was for her.