a tale of two cities that are worlds apart
Although friends told me Tel Aviv was worth a visit I never really felt the need to visit it. Or Israel in general. Boy, I was wrong!
I loved every streetcorner of it. The beach is never far away, the markets are lively and full of energy, the food is mouthwatering and in general: it’s a perfect getaway from the grey, rainy days in Amsterdam. Who would say no to a stroll through the alleys of Jaffa, the smell of piled up pomegranates at Carmel Market or to dip a piece of bread in fresh humus?
A lesson learned: listen to your friends more often.
Although it was just a three day visit to Tel Aviv, I insisted on seeing Jerusalem as well. It’s only a one hour drive away. But how things can change in just 70 kilometres.
Where Tel Aviv felt like a creative hub with a lot of openminded people, Jerusalem was the opposite. Like I had just stepped into a time machine.
The Old Town is split into four quarters: each religion has and sticks to its own piece of the pie. Only tourists seem to wander around freely. And with every corner, with every alley, you dig deeper into history.
After a day of strolling around with fellow photographer Simon Beni, I had met Ethiopian monks, Russian nuns, an Armenian Father and many jews and muslims on the street. I learned about their religion that all seem to come together in this city.
I know magic doesn’t exist in religion, but Jerusalem is a magical place like no other.