Five days until fifty: a birthday reflection in Jerusalem
Sitting in a small café just outside the Old City walls, I'm watching clouds drift across Jerusalem's ancient skyline. The weather is cooler than I expected – 14°C with increasing cloudiness according to the café owner. I've ordered a pot of mint tea and have my journal open on the table. Five days until I turn 50.
This morning I woke early, still adjusting to the rhythm of this place. I spent the first hour on my hotel balcony, watching the city come to life. After breakfast, I decided to explore the Jewish Quarter, which I hadn't properly visited yet. I arrived at 9:50 (naturally), ten minutes before most shops opened, so I walked slowly through the quiet stone streets.
The Jewish Quarter feels different from the rest of the Old City – more restored, cleaner, with a sense of modern life built upon ancient foundations. I visited the Hurva Synagogue, its white dome standing prominently in the quarter's skyline. The building itself has been destroyed and rebuilt twice, most recently reopening in 2010. There's something profound about a place of worship with "ruin" in its name (Hurva means "ruin" in Hebrew) that has been repeatedly destroyed and rebuilt.
From there, I wandered through the Cardo, an ancient Roman street now partially restored with modern shops alongside archaeological remains. Standing in a space where people have been shopping for nearly 2,000 years gives you perspective.
Around noon, I found a small museum displaying artifacts from Jewish life in the Old City before 1948. The black and white photographs of families who had lived here for generations, their lives suddenly uprooted during the 1948 war, were particularly moving. History here isn't abstract – it's recent, raw, and still being written.
Now, sipping tea and watching people pass by, I'm thinking about turning 50 in five days. Half a century. It sounds significant when phrased that way. I remember my mother's 50th birthday when I was 23 – it seemed so distant and mature from my perspective then. Now here I am.
There's something appropriate about facing this milestone in Jerusalem, a city that measures time in millennia rather than years. My five decades feel small in comparison to the stones beneath my feet. Yet they're mine – filled with choices, relationships, mistakes, and growth.
I've noticed there's increasing tension in parts of the city. The café owner mentioned an incident this morning where a Palestinian man was injured near the separation wall in Al-Ram. These reminders of ongoing conflict sit uncomfortably alongside tourist experiences. It's impossible to separate the beauty and history of Jerusalem from its complex present.
Tomorrow I'm leaving for Tel Aviv. I've booked a room for several nights, including my birthday. Part of me wonders if I should be somewhere more meaningful for turning 50, but another part thinks the randomness of being in Tel Aviv feels right for this journey. No special location can give meaning to a birthday – that comes from within.
As I finish my tea, I realize I'm feeling surprisingly calm about the birthday milestone. Perhaps it's the perspective this ancient city provides, or maybe it's simply that after 131 days of travel, I'm beginning to understand that thresholds like turning 50 are just human constructs. The journey continues regardless of the number.
The wind is picking up now, and the forecast mentions it will get increasingly windy. I should head back to my hotel to start organizing my things for tomorrow's departure. Five more days of being 49. Then a new decade begins – somewhere along this continuing journey.
!Ancient olive trees on the Mount of Olives with Jerusalem in the background Ancient olive trees overlooking the city – some of these have witnessed centuries of human history