Day 55: Who really won?

I set off today, my last full day, on a walk. I kind of had some ideas about where I was going, but I really just let the not-so-straight streets of Jerusalem take me.

I wanted to go see an Ethiopian Church, which just so happens to be between where I am and the old neighborhood that I wanted to see. I have to say it was amazing and simple. The design is after architecture in Ethiopia, the roundness I mean. There is some connection between the Ethiopian Queen of Sheba and King Solomon, but I don't know the story. I never realized until I looked on a map that Ethiopia is just on the other side of a small sea, really quite close.

This inside is lavishly (some may say garishly) decorated. Everything is brightly colored in paint or covered by some kind of cloth. There were many paintings, various saints, around the place, too. Saint George was the most represented, although I've no idea why.

There were plenty of other characters, too, I think that this image is of St. Martin, but really I don't know.

There were a couple of entrances to a "room" in the center, a Holy place because the uninitiated could not get there--unless you hop the chain, which I had no interest in. Why profane their sacred?

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This will be laid out kind of funky, but if you follow the four images to the right hand side you can get an idea of the power of the church. The vaulted ceilings holding up the painted dome are really gorgeous. It is easy to tell that the church has been re-painted by loving hands that were not necessarily professional painters or artists. But it is clear that those hands laid the paint on with the utmost love and respect for the church.

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My brother was born in Ethiopia. My dad was stationed there in late 60s and into the 70s. You probably know that there was civil unrest in Ethiopia just as there was in much of the world. The more I learn about the world of that time the more I understand how afraid the governments became. They sure put us under their thumbs today, though, a bit of a compensation I think, which will certainly come back to break the thumb and probably the government. So the Derg was led by this guy that was probably from Eritrea, and this guy overthrew the Ethiopian government and murdered too many people. Clearly my dad didn't fight hard enough to stop this. I didn't win my war either.

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There is a neighborhood called Me'a She'arim. It is like a nineteenth century European town. They may even still think that way. There is not a huge concern with the wealth of the place, material wealth that is.

 They wealth lies in the God stuff, where according to themselves I'm sure they are wealthy beyond imagining.

I've always wondered what it would be like to believe in something so fundamentally that I would fly a plane full of people into a building as a cry out. How endangered must my beliefs be before walk into a mosque and murder praying people? Remember the guy who shot up the Sikh Temple a year ago? (An army veteran, the murderer was.)

There is nothing that I can think of that I believe in so much to do these things. I cannot even comprehend how these actions will further any cause ever. This is how far the chasm is between people I think, with the ghosts of those who came before them whispering, or screaming, in the ears of the fundamentalists to do harm and damage--revenge and avenge! I can never hear the voices of those ghosts because I never knew the people alive.

 And then I had lunch. I'd heard about this bookstore/cafe, which turned out to be much more cafe than bookstore. But dang it was good food. They are well known for their breakfast but I just couldn't do breakfast after all of the walking around town. There is great public transportation here, don't get me wrong. I know I walk everywhere, but I do so because I want to.

So to get to this place I had to go through this tunnel on the right. Then when I emerged I took a hunch and went left. Good call, Mark. But I was still a bit unclear as to exactly where I was going; I did see that there was an end to the alley, so I just kept going. I finally saw a sign for the place, and once I went up that last flight of stairs I was home free for some good eating!

 I've been eating really well, and, perhaps way too much, so it seems. But the Israeli food must be good for me because I had to put another new hole in my belt. I'm definitely not as fat as I was, and, after all of the hard work I can say that I am a bit stronger. But an inch and a half a month? Maybe.

I wanted to get a book or two for the flight home and my time in Madison, because I'm sure Madison doesn't have any bookstores. So I heard about this place that you have to get to by secret means, which was almost the case. I had to find the stairs leading down to this particular alley, which weren't very visible or big, and then once in the alley find the entrance to the bookstore. I had to duck into this small portal off the the alley and then make my way up two flights of stairs. Worth it? Oh yeah.

 My last night here in Jerusalem--in Israel! Wow. So I wanted to celebrate with some good food, and I went to this place that I heard about. Well, the food was pretty enough, but I'm not this kind of fancy. I'm more of an eat-in-the-street kind of guy, just like these two policemen.