Evening reflections from Jerusalem's Old City

I'm sitting in a small café just outside the Jaffa Gate as the evening settles over Jerusalem. The stone walls of the Old City have taken on a golden hue in the fading light, and there's something deeply moving about watching the shadows lengthen across structures that have stood for centuries.

After my morning exploration, I spent the afternoon walking the Via Dolorosa, following the path that tradition holds Jesus walked on his way to crucifixion. Each of the 14 stations tells part of the story, and regardless of one's religious beliefs, there's something profound about walking a route with such historical and spiritual significance. The narrow streets were fairly busy with pilgrims and tourists, but occasionally I found quiet moments to absorb the weight of history in these ancient stones.

I made it to the Western Wall around 4:00 PM. As the sun began its descent, the golden light on the massive stone blocks was breathtaking. I stood there for nearly 30 minutes, watching people approach the wall in prayer, leaving written notes in the crevices. A young boy celebrated his bar mitzvah nearby, the joyful singing and clapping creating a beautiful moment of life and continuity in this ancient place.

The thing that strikes me most about Jerusalem is the layering of history and faith. In the span of a few hours, I witnessed Jewish prayers at the Western Wall, Muslim calls to prayer echoing from nearby minarets, and Christian pilgrims following the Via Dolorosa. All of this happens within a space you could walk across in less than an hour.

I found a beautiful old olive tree near the Garden of Gethsemane that must be hundreds of years old. Its gnarled trunk and silvery leaves caught the afternoon light perfectly, and I spent some time photographing it from different angles. Some olive trees in this area are said to be over 2,000 years old – imagine the history they've witnessed.

After climbing the Mount of Olives for a panoramic view of the Old City, I found myself getting philosophical. There's something about standing in a place where people have been coming to find meaning for thousands of years that makes you reflect on your own journey. I've been traveling for 130 days now, with 370 still ahead. Will I find what I'm looking for? Do I even know what that is?

The weather has been pleasantly cool – about 9°C now as evening sets in. Perfect for walking, though I've noticed many locals bundled up as if it's freezing. I suppose it's all relative. The forecast shows it will be mostly cloudy tomorrow with a chance of rain.

I overheard some people discussing the recent U.S. operation in Venezuela that led to Maduro's capture. World events continue even as I travel in my own bubble. Sometimes I feel disconnected from global news, and then something reminds me that history is always in the making, even as I walk through places where history feels so present.

My birthday is just six days away now. Turning 50 in Jerusalem wasn't my plan – I didn't really have a plan for where I'd be – but there seems something fitting about reaching this milestone in a city that has witnessed so many human milestones over millennia.

Tomorrow I'll explore the Jewish Quarter more thoroughly and perhaps visit some museums. For now, I'm enjoying this moment of quiet reflection as Jerusalem transitions from day to night, the café slowly emptying as people return to their hotels and homes.

The waiter just brought me a small glass of mint tea, unasked for – "on the house," he said with a smile. These small kindnesses from strangers continue to be one of the most meaningful parts of travel.

Time to head back to my hotel and rest. My feet have carried me through centuries today.