Three days until fifty: a restless morning in Jerusalem

The muezzin's call to prayer woke me before dawn. I lay in bed listening to the ancient city stirring around me, thinking about how I'll be fifty in just three days. Fifty. The number feels both meaningless and monumental at once.

I got up and made coffee in my hotel room, watching the sky lighten over the Old City walls. The forecast says it'll be hazy sunshine today, around 14°C - comfortable for exploring.

After breakfast, I headed out at 8:50 for a museum that opened at 9:00. The streets were already alive with locals going about their business and early pilgrims making their way to holy sites. I found myself at the entrance ten minutes before opening, of course, so I waited and watched people pass by.

There's something about Jerusalem that makes me deeply contemplative. Perhaps it's standing in a place where history is measured not in decades or centuries but millennia. My approaching birthday feels like such a tiny blip against this backdrop.

I spent the morning exploring the Christian Quarter again, this time focusing on the smaller churches and side streets I missed yesterday. I'm drawn to the less crowded corners where local life continues unchanged by tourism. Found a tiny café tucked away down a narrow alley where I stopped for a second coffee.

The barista noticed me taking a photo of his vintage espresso machine and showed me how he'd repaired it himself after it broke down last year. He'd replaced some internal parts and rewired the heating element. The machine was probably older than me, but still producing perfect espresso.

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The news here continues to be complicated. Yesterday there was a protest incident that turned fatal, and this morning I overheard people discussing new settlement construction approvals. The political situation feels ever-present, like a constant background hum beneath the surface of daily life.

I'm trying to process it all while acknowledging my position as an outsider. I can observe but never truly understand what it means to live here permanently, with all the complexity that entails.

As I sit writing this, I'm feeling a familiar restlessness creeping in. I've been in this region for nearly a week now, splitting time between Bethlehem and Jerusalem. While there's still so much to see, I'm starting to think about where to go next. Tel Aviv perhaps? Or maybe south to Eilat?

The weather forecast shows rain coming on Friday - my birthday - which feels somehow appropriate. A day of transition, of washing away 49 years and beginning anew at 50.

I need to figure out where I want to be for that milestone. Somewhere meaningful, but not somewhere that will make me feel lonely. That's the challenge of solo travel - celebratory moments can sometimes amplify solitude.

I still want to visit Yad Vashem before I leave Jerusalem, and perhaps take that day trip to the Dead Sea I've been considering. But I feel the pull to move on soon, to keep this journey in motion.

For now, I'll finish my coffee and head back out into the city. The morning is still young, and Jerusalem has centuries more stories to tell me before lunch.

!Ancient olive tree on the Mount of Olives One of the ancient olive trees I photographed yesterday - some here are over 1,000 years old