Slightly south of the city center, where the neighborhoods of Rechavia and Katamon meet, in an incongruously green and deep valley bounded by busy roads, a valley dominated by the ancient monastery nestled in its center: the Valley of the Cross.

The Valley is cleft deep into Jerusalem's heart spiritually as well as geographically; its gnarled, solemn olive trees and rocky outcroppings provide an island of meditative quiet in the midst of Jerusalem's bustle and traffic, its stillness and natural beauty making it a favorite topic for Jerusalem's many poets. Yehuda Amichai, Jerusalem's most beloved wordsmith, frequently brings up his youth spent in the vicinity of the Valley:

This might have been a poem praising
my sweet imagined childhood God.
It was Friday, black angels filled
the Valley of the Cross, their wings
black houses, deserted quarries.
Sabbath candles danced like ships
at the harbour entrance. "Come, bride,"
wear the clothes of your tears and glory
from the night you thought I wouldn't come
and I came.

The Cross in question is of course Jesus Christ's - Queen Helena, the mother of Constantine, designated the valley (then outside the city) as the location from which the wood for the cross was harvested, and commissioned the construction of the monastery. The monastery, which has not undergone significant changes since its founding almost 1700 years ago, is still occupied by a small contingent of rarely-glimpsed monks; the Greek flag flutters from the ramparts in the stiff Jerusalem breeze.

Naturally, the Valley of the Cross makes for a great walk and a great location for a picnic. To get there from downtown, take King George St. all the way down (away from the city center) towards Kikar Tzarfat (Paris square), where you should turn right onto Ben Maimon Street, which turns into Aza St, the main thoroughfare of Rechavia. Follow Aza all the way down, about ten minutes, until you see the Valley. The Valley can also be accessed from major Jerusalem park Gan Sacher. At the far end of the park, slightly beyond where the running path bends around to head back towards Nachlaot, is a graffiti-plastered cement tunnel which leads straight into the Valley.

Once you're there, leisurely take in the verdant scenery. Clamber over the rocks. Run your hands over the knotted bark of the centuries-old olive trees. In addition to the monastery (which can be accessed during certain posted hours for a small fee), you should be able to see the modernist jumble of the Israel Museum looming over the Valley's western lip, and the blocky Knesset slightly off to the north. Enjoy a picnic at one of the Valley's fire-pit equipped sitting areas, or head to one of the several nearby cafes in Rechavia.

NOTE TO SOLO TRAVELERS: Like any unlit place, the Valley of the Cross is best avoided at night.

Photo of the Monastery of the Cross courtesy of heatkernel under a creative commons license.

Rising out of Jerusalem's northeast corner, offering commanding views of the entirety of the Old City and much of West Jerusalem beyond, is Mount Scopus (Har Ha'Tzofim), one of the seven hills upon which Jerusalem is supposedly built, a relatively modest mountain that still figures prominently in the city's history and continues to capture the Israeli imagination.

The mountain is so-named because it served as the lookout point from which Roman troops planned their assault on the rebel-dominated city of Jerusalem during the Great Revolt of Judean revolutionaries in the 1st century CE. The Hebrew University, the first secular Hebrew language institution of higher learning ever established, was opened on Mount Scopus, and occupies it to this day. During the 1948 Independence War, the school and its accompanying hospital (Hadassah Mt. Scopus) were cut off from Jewish-controlled Jerusalem, leaving the mountain as a garrisoned Israeli outpost in the midst of Jordanian territory, which it remained until the unification of Jerusalem in 1967. The areas around Mount Scopus, particularly Ammunition Hill, saw incredibly fierce fighting during that year's Six Day War. The Hebrew University's massive tower atop the mountain dominates the Jerusalem skyline.

Visitors to Mount Scopus can still enjoy the views of the Old City that gave the mountain its name, the Dome of the Rock shimmering in the sun atop the Temple Mount. Unfortunately, it is difficult to gain access to the Hebrew University's campus if you are not a student or an invited guest (due to security concerns), but the area still offers other attractions. Down the road (Etzel Street) from the university is a British military cemetery and memorial, the final resting place of several hundred fallen soldiers from World War I, which offers an opportunity for quiet contemplation. Going further past the traffic circle and up the hill takes you along the Hebrew University's Idelson dormitory, and two falafel stands operated by the Arab residents of the French Hill neighborhood. Jerusalemite recommends the further of the two stands (French Hill Falafel), as the other one is attached to a dentist's clinic of the same name, which conjures images of a dentist running back and forth between his deep fryer and drill, and is rumored among Hebrew U students to cause stomach upset. Further along still you'll see off to your left the French Hill shopping center, which includes a grocery store and several small restaurants and cafes.

At the end of the road are the gates to the Arab village of Isawiyya, a notorious hotbed of political unrest during the Intifada. Visitors are not always welcome. Before arriving in Isawiyya, turn left (the first left turn after passing the shopping center area) and follow the road's curve until you get to Tzameret Ha'Birah (about five minutes' walk), a neighborhood on Jerusalem's fringe characterized by its stunning views of the Judean Desert. The steeply terraced neighborhood offers a playground and a great number of impressive vantage points. Early risers can take advantage of a rare opportunity: at sunrise on a clear day, you can see all the way to the glimmering Dead Sea, forty minutes away by car.

Photo of Mount Scopus view courtesy of tmesis from flickr under a creative common license.

Author Tzvia Dobrish-Fried grew up in the now belabored town of Sderot and moved to Jerusalem in the 1970s. It was love at first sight for the former small-town girl, who to this day maintains her sense of wonder at the big, capitol city. After working for many years as the spokesperson for the Jerusalem Association of Community Centers, which organizes community groups and provides administrative guidance to Jerusalem's network of community centers, Tzvia, who now lives in Beit Hakerem, decided to express her love in writing, publishing Houses of Jerusalem and Secrets of Jerusalem, about her adopted home. She recently took time to speak with Jerusalemite about her books and the city that inspired them.

How did you end up living in Jerusalem? I came to Jerusalem 30 years ago, from Sderot, to go to university. Then I got married and stayed.

Where did the idea for your book Secrets of Jerusalem come from? Moving to Jerusalem was a big shock that still hasn’t worn off. To this very day I’m still surprised by Jerusalem, and every day I see something new here. When I first came here I was in university and then I was working and raising my children and I never had time to explore the city. I would always see things on the side of the road that interested me and I always wanted to investigate, but I never had the time. In particular, I remember visiting my optometrist on Prague St. [next to Strauss St. and Jaffa Rd.]. He had a window next to his eye-chart, through which I saw a minaret. Every year, I meant to leave his office and check out the minaret, and I never did. When I took a leave of absence from work to write my first book.... (Click here for the full interview.)

What are the two oldest and loveliest West Jerusalem neighborhoods that also happen to be apparently deserted most of the year?

Come on, give it a shot...

No, not Nachlaot...no, it definitely ain't the German Colony...

Look up at the title...

That's right: Yemin Moshe and Mishkenot Sha'ananim.

Yemin Moshe ("The Right Hand of Moses") was named not after the sea-splitting liberator with whom you may be familiar, but after a much more recent figure who, in his own way, guided just about as many Jews to the Holy Land as his white-bearded Biblical namesake did: Moses Montefiore. Montefiore, an Italian Sephardi Jew who became an extraordinarily wealthy and respected businessman in London (to the point of being knighted and receiving a baronetcy), spent a great portion of his long life in an effort to revitalize and encourage settlement in the Land of Israel. When Montefiore arrived in the Land on the first of his many lengthy trips there, the entirety of the Jewish community of Jerusalem was squeezed into the cramped Jewish quarter. By the time he died in 1885 at the age of one hundred, several thriving Jewish neighborhoods existed outside the walls of the Old City in what would become modern West Jerusalem - all due to Montefiore's abundant largess and abundant vision.

The first of these neighborhoods was Yemin Moshe, symbolized by its mighty windmill, a structure which, for all its grandeur, never actually worked. The neighborhood around it was first inhabited by the mostly-poor former residents of the Jewish Quarter, but as time went on and Jerusalem expanded, this prime land with its incredible views of the Old City became more and more lucrative, and while the quaint character of Yemin Moshe remained unchanged, the same could not be said for its property values. Thus Yemin Moshe and its outgrowth Mishkenot Sha'ananim ("Serene Dwellings") turned into the domain of the wealthiest of Jerusalemites.

But just because you can't afford to live there doesn't mean you can't enjoy it. A walk through these neighborhoods is a walk through the beginning chapter of modern Jerusalem - these humble alleys a stone's throw away from the walls of the Old City are the precursor of nearly everything behind you, from Ben Yehuda to the bus station. Start in true Jerusalemite style with a picnic in the large, grassy park in Yemin Moshe that overlooks the Old City, where you'll doubtless encounter Jerusalem residents of all faiths enjoying the weather and view. Then stop inside Montefiore's windmill for an intimate look at the life of the man who created your surroundings. And then just endeavor to get lost in the winding alleys and steep terraces of Yemin Moshe and Mishkenot Sha'ananim. You probably won't bother anyone - many of the homes are empty for much of the year since their owners live abroad and use them for vacation residences.

Photo of Yemin Moshe courtesy of bdnegin from flickr under a creative commons license.

It turns out, perhaps unsurprisingly given the ever-tumultuous nature of, well, everything in Jerusalem, that the ongoing digs in the City of David are uncovering not only a great deal of significant artifacts but also a great deal of significant controversy. Much of the archaeologically significant strata lies beneath Silwan, an Arab neighborhood across the Kidron Valley from the Old City, and awkwardly, the organization funding the dig is also heavily invested in the settlement of religious, politically rightist Jewish families in Silwan. The AP, being uncharacteristically even-handed, provides elucidation:

Lying on a densely populated slope outside the walled Old City, the area is known to Israelis as the City of David, named for the legendary monarch who ruled a Jewish kingdom from this spot 3,000 years ago. It is the kernel from which Jerusalem grew.

But Silwan is in east Jerusalem, which Israel captured from Jordan in 1967 and which Palestinians claim for the capital of a future state.

...

The organization funding the digs, the Elad Foundation, is associated with the religious settlement movement and is committed to preventing Israel from ever ceding the area in a peace deal. It says it has a yearly budget of close to $10 million, nearly all of it from donations, and is buying up Palestinian homes in Silwan to accommodate Jewish families. Around 50 have moved in so far, living in houses flying Israeli flags and guarded by armed security men paid for by the Israeli government.

At the same time, the City of David digs have expanded through the neighborhood, carried out by respected Israeli government archaeologists with funding from Elad.

Fakhri Abu Diab, a neighborhood activist, said the Elad Foundation has made it clear that he and his neighbors are in the way.

"They want the land without the people," he said.

None of the finds that the archaeologists highlight for the public are from the eras of Christian or Muslim rule. "They are looking only for Jewish ruins," said Abu Diab. "It's as if we're not here."

 Of course, given the official stance of the Palestinian government regarding Jewish history in Jerusalem, which is that it's a Zionist fabrication, there may be some color commentary by the pot concerning the kettle going on here. Still, it's a thorny issue, and like many thorny issues, it can always be grossly exacerbated by the police.

The police arrested five Palestinian residents of the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Silwan this week, all within a day of their having petitioned the High Court of Justice to stop an Israel Antiquities Authority excavation under their homes.

According to the IAA, the dig has uncovered the remains of a Second Temple-era drainage channel. It is being financed by Elad, an organization that promotes the Judaization of East Jerusalem.

The Palestinians, who fear the dig will damage their houses, asked the court to halt it on Sunday, on the grounds that the IAA did not inform them that it planned to excavate on their property, as required by law. The court gave the IAA 14 days to respond. Last week, Palestinian demonstrators prevented the IAA from proceeding with the excavation. They tried to do the same on Sunday, but the police intervened to allow the dig to proceed.

Always an encouraging development when the police ignore the rulings of the highest court in the land.

But what to do? Do the Jewish people have the right to uncover their own cherished history? Yes. Does Elad have the right to legally buy homes in Arab neighborhoods and fill them with Jews? Yes. Does it also have the right to support important archaeology, even if it's colored by politics? Yes. But do the Palestinians have cause to be concerned anyway? Well...yes. And are the Jerusalem police overzealous? As always, yes.

As they say: oy vey. 

 

Sure, the snow, even when it comes, doesn't deign to stick around long here in the Levant, but even if you can't tramp out with snowboots to sled down Mount Zion and build a snow golem, you can still toast our departed snowfall with some good times in the city this coming weekend (after Shabbat is over) - especially since it's going to be relatively warm. (Highs up to 60F!)

How does one celebrate snow in Jerusalem? Appropriately snow-colored food, of course. Given that winter chill, anything frozen is out...but Jerusalemite has some ideas of foods that will keep you warm yet in a festive winter mood.

Start out with a hot milk-and-honey drink at Tmol Shilshom. Remember as you drink it that once upon a time a whole nation of people crossed one of the world's most inhospitable deserts to get a taste of that business.

Then head to the first bakery or coffee shop you come across - Jerusalemite recommends the little shop Turkish Bourekas from Haifa on Jaffa Road - and get a bourekas filled with salty white cheese, topped with alabaster tehina and a pristine hard-boiled egg.

And dessert? Why not a fresh crepe at Katzefet on the Ben Yehuda midrachov?

And then walk all those calories off while watching the remaining bits of snow disappear from Independence Park. Have fun! 

 

Snow falls in only parts of Israel, but when it snows in the hilly north -- usually between zero and three times per winter -- it's likely to snow in Jerusalem as well. Rare is a multi-day, multi-centimeter snowstorm like the one that blanketed our city in white this week.

Click here for more... 

Certain cities are built around a certain mode of transportation. Los Angeles is a car city. Amsterdam is a bike city. Hanoi is a scooter city. And Jerusalem? Well, the best way to experience the charms of the Holy City is with those two appendages your deity (or lack thereof) of choice bestowed upon you. That's right, your legs.

Jerusalem has always been a place meant to be navigated on foot. The Hebrew term for "pilgrimage," of which Judaism required three every year to Jerusalem, is aliyah l'regel, which translates roughly to "ascent by foot." Every year during the Sukkot, Shavu'ot and Passover festivals thousands of Jews from as far afield as Egypt and Babylon would hoof it up to the Holy City to atone for their sins by offering a sacrificial dove at the Temple. Modern day pilgrims can achieve similar results by offering a sacrificial 15 shekels for a stale falafel in the Jewish Quarter.

But back to the point. There's no part of Jerusalem that can't be accessed by foot, and a determined walker can get from one end of the city to the other in a few hours' time. And the city is bursting with interesting landmarks, elegant and vibrant neighborhoods, historical sites, architectural marvels and much more to greet the casual stroller. So Jerusalemite is here to present to you Jerusalem Strolls, a multi-part blog series on the very best walking tours of this most walking-friendly of cities. So stretch out your movin' legs and polish off your sightseein' eyes, because you're about to learn how to see the City of Gold the way you were meant to.