la dorada

Jerusalem is the most beautiful of all cities, it has the beauty of all the world's cities combined.

So said my Rabbi in Milan one Shabbat dinner from the head of the table as we all sat gathered around, eating above a white tablecloth and the brass chandelier overhead.

Sometimes Jerusalem is a real balagan, casino, mess. The supermarkets, cheap-looking florescent madhouses with their exhorberant prices and slow-moving cashiers, the trashy bars offering free but tasteless hookah on Ben-Yehuda, the bus station crammed with numerous security entrances. The city lacks the flashy sexiness and easiness Tel Aviv. Jerusalem's air is often tense. This is a difficult place. It is heavy, sometimes I feel so weighed down by the history (there is none of Italy's famosa leggerezza here) The city has so many divisions, Jew against Jew to say the least.

And yet, walking around on a tuesday afternoon, right before sundown, the city is illuminated. I love the arches, the city's beautiful buildings, oh! the arches, oh! the gates, oh! the palm trees. People siting outside in cafes. A certain something in the air. The women in the institute across the street with covered hair, so elegantly dressed. The time I spend peering out of my balcony as I wait for Shabbat to end so I can let there be light.

Jerusalem is magical.