Jerusalem Not as Romantic as Your Grandparents Claimed

woke up this morning and immediately regretted choosing the indie film scout vibe. it’s 25.2 degrees outside and the kind of temperature that makes you question all life choices. i just checked and it’s that 25.2 thing again, so hot and dry, like a desert soul. the air smells like exhaust and cheap coffee, which is exactly what i expected. if you get bored, tel aviv is just a short drive away, but honestly, the beach there’s way better for tan lines.

walked around the old city last night and overheard a group of college kids whispering about some underground art exhibit. someone told me that the location was a derelict warehouse, but when i asked what exactly they meant by ‘underground’, they just shrugged and told me to follow a painter with a canvas the size of a wall. i ended up lost for three hours, which is probably what they wanted. the neighborhood is bizarrely quiet, which is weird because jerusalem is supposed to be chaotic. or maybe it’s intentional? who knows.

had breakfast at this hole-in-the-wall cafe called shayekh. the walls are covered in cobwebs and posters from films that never made it to dvds. the owner, a woman with a permanent sleep deprivation nuzzle, sold me a sandwich wrapped in newspaper. she warned me in broken english that ‘this place has ghosts, but the good kind.’ i ignored her. probably should’ve listened. i heard later from a drunk at a hostel that this spot is allegedly haunted by a guy who used to direct movies. no idea if it’s true. i do know i took 17 pointless photos of a cat napping on a table.

the weather here is weird. i mean, it’s 25.2 degrees but it feels like 24.06, which is confusing. like, is the city holding its breath? maybe. when i asked a local what was up, they just stared at me and said ‘the humidity is a glitch.’ maybe. or maybe they’re just not proud of their city’s climate. reviews online are all over the place. some people swear by the food, others say it’s toxic. i heard that from a barista who went too hard on espresso. i took that as a sign not to eat the street tacos. smart move.

there’s this weird neighbor thing happening. like, the street next to where i’m staying is inhabited by people who seem to exist in a different dimension. a guy next door plays lute at 3 am, uninvited. another woman keeps yelling in hebrew about taxes. i tried to ask if there was a rhyme or reason to it, but she just yelled louder. the point is, jerusalem’s energy is real. or maybe it’s just that one night i had a bad moon.

i leased a mini-veleska to explore. it’s tiny, loud, and smells like motor oil, which is perfect. drove past a graffiti-covered wall that said ‘eat falafel, not fear.’ i did both. falafel was okay. fear was less so. anyway, the streets are lined with vendors selling everything from spices to stolen antiques. i’m not sure which is more authentic. probably the antiques. also, the map is here:

pictures:

part of me wants to write a film about this place. not because it’s beautiful, but because it’s weird. like, why is jerusalem such a mess of contradictions? maybe that’s the point. i’ll book a flight to somewhere with higher humidity tomorrow. or maybe i’ll just snooze in this tiny vehicle until i go mad.

p.s. if you’re thinking of coming, leave reviews on tripadvisor. mine’s just ‘meh. don’t come for the vibe.’ yelp says the same. sane people probably aren’t even using these platforms anymore. but hey, i’m here to suffer for the art. or maybe just for the wildlife.

p.p.s. the humidity link is fake. don’t trust it.

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