Morning reflections from Jerusalem

It's 9:40 am, and I'm sitting on a small stone bench just inside Jaffa Gate, watching Jerusalem wake up. The morning light has a golden quality as it catches the ancient limestone walls, creating a warm glow that belies the crisp January air. It's only 8°C according to my phone, but the sunshine makes it feel warmer.

I arrived in Jerusalem yesterday afternoon after leaving the Dead Sea. The transition from that barren, salt-encrusted landscape to this ancient city of stone and faith has been jarring in the best possible way. While the Dead Sea offered a kind of emptiness perfect for introspection, Jerusalem pulses with layers of history and humanity.

This morning I was up before dawn, partly from jet lag and partly from excitement. I watched the sunrise from my hotel room window, the golden light gradually illuminating the walls of the Old City. By 7:30, I was showered, dressed, and heading out with a small notebook and camera.

I'm staying at a modest hotel just outside the Old City walls, about a 5-minute walk from Jaffa Gate. The location is perfect - close enough to easily explore the Old City on foot, but just removed enough to provide some quiet.

After a quick breakfast of hummus, pita, and strong coffee at a café that had just opened its doors (I was their first customer), I made my way through Jaffa Gate just as the city was coming to life. Shopkeepers were rolling up metal shutters, street vendors were arranging their wares, and a few early-rising tourists were already consulting maps and guidebooks.

I've spent the last hour and a half simply wandering the narrow stone streets, letting myself get pleasantly lost in the Christian Quarter. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre was already busy with pilgrims when I arrived around 8:15. I stood in the entrance for a while, watching the interplay of light through the high windows and observing the devotion of those who had traveled so far to be here.

Now, as I sit on this bench watching people pass by, I'm struck by how this place feels both incredibly ancient and vibrantly alive. A group of schoolchildren just walked past, laughing and chattering in Hebrew. A few moments later, an elderly Palestinian man nodded politely as he passed with his morning bread. Tourists from what sounds like a dozen different countries move through the gate, their excitement palpable.

It's strange to think that in just six days, I'll be turning 50. What a place to approach such a milestone - in one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities on earth. The weight of history here provides perspective. My half-century feels like nothing compared to the millennia that these stones have witnessed.

My plan for the rest of the day is to explore the four quarters of the Old City systematically. I want to walk the Via Dolorosa, visit the Western Wall, and if there's time, make it to the Mount of Olives for that classic panoramic view of the city. The weather forecast promises sunshine all day, which seems perfect for photography.

For now, though, I'm content to sit a little longer, watching the rhythm of this ancient city, and contemplating the 370 days of journey that still lie ahead of me. Jerusalem feels like an appropriate place for such contemplation.

[Photo: Morning light on Jerusalem limestone, with an olive tree's shadow creating patterns on an ancient wall]