Jerusalem: Day Two

Tuesday, July 1: This was a somber day in Israel as the country mourned the killing of three young Jewish men by alleged Palestinian extremists. We had already planned to visit Yad Vashem, Israel's memorial to the Jewish victims of the holocaust. As our taxi wound its way through the narrow streets, the driver said, "It is a sad day in Israel today," and while we could not understand what was being said on the radio, the tone of the speaker reminded me of the prayer over the dead. We prepared ourselves for a day filled with emotions.

Yad Vashem was established in 1953 and is the second most visited site in Israel after the Western Wall. In its simplest terms it is a museum which displays an amazing amount of information and artifacts related to the holocaust. It is a stark site on a slope of Mount Herzl on the Mount of Rememberence. Built of concrete and Jerusalem limestone, the complex is made up of a number of buildings and memorials. The main building is a long triangular prism that leads the visitor through many rooms that are filled with facts, artifacts, and multimedia presentations related to the holocaust. 

Some of this just overwhelms the senses. And maybe that's the purpose - it seems like every room has more stories of, more pictures of, more displays of, the people who were killed for being nothing more than Jewish. There is no, and there was no, end to it. The displays provide an historical feeling. It was, however, the simplest of displays that provided the most emotional feelings: the pile of victims' shoes; the Hall of Names where data on the six million murdered Jews is kept; the Garden of the Righteous Among the Nations where the non-Jewish people, like Oskar Schindlar, who saved Jews from extermination are honored; the Hall of Remberence where a flame burns in a large room amidst a black floor that has the names of the death camps embedded like grave markers; and mostly the Children's Memorial where one enters a dark building and the names and ages of children that were killed in the holocaust are spoken very solemnly and which is illuminated only by points of light that are reflected over and over again by mirrors so that it gives the feeling of an infinite number of children's lives that were extinguished,  and so too were their children and their children's children.

We have been looking for a Mezuzah for our new house in California and they are either way too ornate or way too expensive, or both. On our last trip to Jerusalem, we found the Hutzot Hayotzer Arts and Crafts Lane, so we decided to try there. Again, too ornate or too expensive, or both. We did, however, meet Motke Blum, an 88 year old artist who still creates through any media that he can get his hands on. He is a survivor of the holocaust and a founder of this artists' colony 44 years ago. He is a wonderful character and we wanted to buy his whole shop and sell the art for a fortune in Scottsdale. 

In our continuing quest for the Mezuzah, we decided to go back into the Old City. We did this with a bit of trepidation as we suspected that there might be some high emotions due to the killing of the aforementioned three young men. We saw many more police and army personnel as we made our way to the Jaffa Gate and there was a smattering of smoke in the air. It was only later that we heard of the rioting that had taken place in this exact spot earlier in the day with Jewish extremists looking for any Arab they could find to beat up. Have we - has the world - not learned anything from the holocaust? Are we doomed to repeat these occurrences again and again because of religion or ethnicity or gender or sexual orientation? Why can't we just all get along? Where's John Lennon when we need him?

We entered the Old City and we did find some nice Mezuzahs, but at 600 Sheckels ($180US) we decided to pass. Then we found one made of Jerusalem limestone which was hollowed out in the back to receive the parchment. The storekeeper, with his earbuds a-playing and his hand a-rubbing his crotch (I don't know if this was a bargaining technique, or he liked Joani), quoted us a price of 400 Sheckels. I shook my head, "No," and the game was on. He asked me what I would pay and my answer was, "Not 400." He said, give me 350, 300, 250, 225. I hadn't said a word and the elevator was dropping! When he got to 150 I picked it up again and asked, "Does it come in other colors of stone?" He showed us other colors and he started to wrap up the original one. I said, "I will give you 100." He said 140, then 130 and started wrapping again. I said, "120 and done'" - and it was!

We went out for dinner to the Dolphin Yam, a restaurant amidst an area of bars and restaurants frequented mostly by locals. There were projectors and large screens set up and down the street and in the square as the World Cup was a prime attraction. It was a great meal and then great fun to sit around watching the Argentina - Switzerland game with the hundreds of people on the street. Why can't we just all get along?