Saying goodbye to Jerusalem 1

Today has been the last day of the course which means that tomorrow we leave Jerusalem. I have fallen in love with this city – granted I've been introduced to it in the best possible way – without rush, with great knowledge and the wisdom to give us the space to let it seep into our souls – but there is something about this place. It's beauty and complexity; its brokenness and contradictions; its potential and betrayal.

Aware of a sense of the impeding leaving I spent yesterday afternoon walking through the old city by myself – picking up the last of the small gifts but mostly just enjoying the kaleidoscope of smell and sound and sight and soulfulness. Being alone of course I was fair game for shopkeepers – its much quieter here now than it was two weeks ago when we arrived and lacking skills in totally ignoring people I spent a pleasant afternoon drinking tea and being chatted up. Being told you have the face of an angel despite it being all about the sales pitch is endearing – and good for the self esteem – I've enjoyed the opportunity to talk with people to ask what they like about this place and why they wouldn't leave (most common answer – I just couldn't it's home). It really is one of the big cultural differences - that chatting in the shops and being willing to talk about your life. I remembered Aimee in Bethlehem where all the shop keepers called out to her as she went past – I do think that would happen here in time too. I wondered as I talked what it would be to be a hope carrier in this place – so I smiled and laughed off the attempts to lure me into earrings or carpets "no no madam – just tell me what you like in my shop, no pressure to buy" ha ha.

Part of my intention in the walk was to see a guy who sells antiquities I'd chatted to on our first city explorations (could it be only two weeks ago?) But I couldn't find him – there seems to be no rhyme or reason to shop opening hours here and there's this magical way the streets seem to meld together and bring you out not quite where you thought you were. It's all rather mary poppins-esque. I walked again past the Noble Sanctuary, passing yet again through security to get near the western wall on my way out to the city.

I was headed for the city of David which slips its way on the point of the terraces down into the Kidron and Tyropean valleys meeting point way below. Some of the possible sites (really so much is about being possible places) of events of the passion happened in places that are now outside the city walls and I had wanted to investigate- and was reminded yet again how incredibly steep this place is. Puffing, I saw the church that marks where Mary went to sleep but more evocative still as the sun started it descent was the view down the line of the hill towards the west, all timeless beauty until you let your eyes move out and then the Wall creeps menacingly in the distance. I swung by the Armenian Monastery and St Peter Gallicullu (of the cock crow) neither of which were home to visitors. I saw fathers and sons walking home from temple and a jogger puffing his way up the slope of Mt Zion, and car bursting alarmingly out of Zion Gate.

Tossing up whether to circumnavigate the walls I thought the better of it and reentered the city as people made their way home from work – carrying the ubiquitous grey plastic bags of shopping with coats turned up against the cold. I was struck by how much I'll miss this place – and that in many ways the pull home wasn't nearly enough to overcome it. I found tears sneaking their way down my cheeks – and an understanding trickling into my heart about why people have loved this place so deeply. I thought to myself I could happily spent the rest of my life exploring these streets and sharing the thrill with others.

To shake me out of my reverie, the street narrowed and the smooth stones were slippery, and I slid into a juice seller who told me I was In the very centre of Roman Jerusalem. I smiled and mmmed appropriately – to make his point, he showed me in the next shop so I could see the arches that remain from the Cardo two millennia ago. "you want to see the view from the heart of the city?" He showed me an iron staircase huddled up beside his shop. It was magic – I stood on the rounded rooftops in the middle of the quarters and took a farewell set of photos as the sun slid from the western sky turning the hilltops opposite pink behind the gold of the dome and the green light on the minaret. Good bye my friend. Ill treasure our memories.