I had a good day in Jerusalem today. Starting with writing,
writing, writing. Yesterday after I got back to the Jerusalem
Meridian Hotel, I started writing my second piece for Salon– about the
Hamas women in Gaza, and about Hamas more generally… And I’d hope to
finish it yesterday, too. But I have so much material from Gaza
rattling around in my notebook and in my head that it took a while for
it to settle down and “compose”… So I only made a start on the
article yesterday evening.
This morning I got up, had a quick breakfast in the hotel’s beautiful old stone-arched
restaurant, then told myself, “Helena, write!”
Actually, I also had the hope of a rather interesting interview in Tel
Aviv today, but by around 10 a.m. the guy’s executive assistant had
called to say it wouldn’t, after all, work out. So I got to
continue with my writing instead. And shortly after 2 p.m. the
Salon piece was done– in at just under 3,000 words. I
don’t think the shape is perfect– I find it really, really hard to
compose anything, let alone a longer piece like this, completely on the
small laptop screen, without doing any printouts. (I’m a big fan of
self-editing on hard copy.) But it is what it is. There’s a
professional editor there at Salon at work on the piece, so let’s hope
he can rebalance whatever needs to be rebalanced in it. Maybe
it’s two pieces, anyway? Or one main piece and a sidebar? I
guess we’ll see.
Holed up in a quiet hotel room writing, and eating from room service.
It’s not a bad situation to be in– especially if, as is now the case,
the room in question has a fabulous view out over the Mount of Olives,
pierced on its ridge by the two towers of the Augusta Victoria Hospital
and the Hebrew U. Mount Scopus campus. But after nearly 24 hours
of this holed-up-in-room-writing regime, I definitely needed to
walk. I had nearly an hour to spare before I was due to go visit
my old Palestinian-Armenian friend Albert Aghazarian, who lives in the
Old City, so I decided to take a roundabout route to his place there.
What a fabulous, intriguing city Jerusalem is, especially for
pedestrians. When I was in Gaza, I was once again acutely aware
of how lucky I am to be able to come to Jerusalem whenever I want
to. Some of the Palestinians I talked to there had never visited
this city. Some hadn’t been able to visit it for many years
now. It was actually easier for Gazans to get to Jerusalem during
the height of the first intifada than it became after the conclusion
iof the Oslo Accord. But the Gazans all long for the city
intensely. A large, glowing image of the Dome of the Rock is the
main decoration in many public places there (as, indeed, throughout the whole
Palestinian diaspora)
… Well, my route to Albert’s place turned out to be a bit more
roundabout than I had expected. He’d reminded me I needed to go
to the Armenian Convent of St. James and ask for his house there.
So I walked along Salaheddine Street to the Old City walls, and then
southwest along the outside of the walls a bit till I reached the
Damascus Gate. (It was cold out. It’s been a blustery day here today: the first real
time in all my visit that I’ve been glad to have the warm wool coat
that I almost jettisoned ten days ago because it seemed such a pain to
have to carry it around.)
In front of the Damascus Gate there’s a broad stone plaza that’s linked to the gate by a wide stone footbridge where
normally a row of older Palestinian women from the villages around will
sit and sell their herbs and other produce. Most of these women–
both the ones sitting outside the gate and the far greater number of
their sisters who sit at various points throughout the Old City– wear
the intricately embroidered dresses that are an important part of their
dowry and their identity. The other day when I was at the
Damascus Gate, a gaggle of Israeli soldiers was hanging around the
footbridge, with another soldier silhouetted in the high little window
in the high stone battlements above the gate.