Here in Jerusalem

Now, I do not know where to begin. I have too many notes to scribble in this notebook. I have bitten off a month of experience and I can’t swallow it in one nice little gulp.

But rather than bore you with a long detail by detail version I think I will just post a few of the emails to my mom.

For about a month, I have been living here in Jerusalem.

Jerusalem is my Wonderland.

I just can’t help myself. I am like one of those fanatical girls who can’t stop gushing about their only beloved. Except, I seem to be in love with a place.

Yes, I love Jerusalem.

I love walking into the Old City. I love how I get lost in the bustle of people. I love how the little boys in kipas tussle around me. I love the smell of spices and warm pita bread.

Sometimes, I just sit at the center and look out at the city. There are so many buildings. Each of the stone structures are nestled close together until they all crowd one another and look like crushed precious sand stones.

The Golden Dome looks like a fat rising sun in the midst of it all.

I lose all my shekels to the shopkeepers. They tell me I have pretty eyes and once again, I can’t help myself.

100 shekels for a piece of tarnished jewelry? No, no I can’t. What? It will protect my blue eyes from envious eyes? Well, of course. I must have it.

I think my favorite place to go is the Garden Tomb. It’s just so quite there. Except for the tour groups prattling away in Arabic or Hebrew or some African language, it is so quiet.

Or sometimes, I just like to stay at the Center and sit outside. The Center has big, juicy pomegranates that droop on the tree limbs like round rubies.

We pluck them from the tree and let the rubies drip their sticky juices on our fingertips.

Then, I rush off for the classes, mumbling about the homework I have not finished, but still thinking about where to go after lunch: the Garden of Gethsemane, the Pools of Bethesda or the Church of the Holy Sepulcher perhaps.

I just can’t help myself. I have fallen in love with Jerusalem.