The Old City

The old city was tourist central. Upon entering I was assaulted, verbally, "Shopping? Speak English?" The man asked.

I said, "Yes." I know better than that.

He said, "You are American, I can tell." He walked along with me.

"Yes."

"You are shopping?"

"No."

"You have seen the wall, other things?"

"Yes."

"You are not shopping? You should help support Israel, the Jewish people."

That was a new one on me--guilt as a sales pitch. In my rush to get away from him, I found myself in the Arab quarter, walking down a narrow street crowed with tiny shops full of tourist goods. Another turn, and I was the only tourist and the shops were full of local goods--vegetables, socks, etc.

Another turn and there were no more shops, just boys playing soccer.

When I stopped to take a photo, a man walking behind me, probably in his 50's nodded and said, "That's good." After a few words, he asked me for coffee, "Just coffee, just to talk." I politely declined and he didn't insist.

After that, I found the Jewish Quarter, which my father recommended I visit. More tourists and more Jews.

I found a café and wrote a few words. Then I walked a few miles home.