Today is the Jewish Sabbath day Shabbat (pronounced ‘sharbaart’).

We slept very well last night. Had muesli, cinnamon rolls, fruit and yoghurt again for breakfast. The butter here in Israel is pure white. It looks unappetising and is almost tasteless.

We plan a big walk about today, so we take a litre of tap water in Noel’s useful backpack and off we go.

We start off by walking down through the tombs. On the way we discover an entrance to some underground caves which contain (or once contained) the tombs of the prophets.

We go inside, but it’s too dark to see properly so we decide to come back at night time with our torches and explore it more fully.

We continue walking through the tombs and explore the larger tomb prayer rooms as we go. We also visit the tomb prayer room that we saw the bus load of Hasidim Jews visit on our first day in Jerusalem.

Inside these rooms, or more correctly sepulchres, are numerous little tins which hold candles. There are also thousands of prayer notes tucked into crevices in the tombs, hand written in Hebrew.

Jews believe it is very beneficial to pray in the presence of dead prophets. Some of these prayer rooms have multiple tombs inside, probably family members.

We come across some king’s tombs as well. These have a royal crown on them.

The tombs and stone coffins vary from place to place. Some are extremely old, some very new.

Lots of the stone coffins have little stones placed upon them. This is a Jewish custom when visiting the grave of a loved one. A round stone represents the circle of life, from the ground and back to the ground again.

Many of the larger ones have small recesses in the side where people burn candles.

We soon reach the lower valley road and see long rows of parked tourist coaches on both sides of the road, perhaps 20 of them all together. Their inhabitants are visiting the Garden of Gethsemane where we visited yesterday. One coach is disgorging plump American tourists that contrast markedly with the naturally slim eastern people.

The clothing standards of some of these tourist women, with their deep cleavage, bare tummies and shorts must be outrageous to the feelings of the local Jerusalem people who seem ultra-modest in their attire.

One Volvo tourist bus has obviously been painted by somebody challenged in the spelling department. They fitted the Volvo letters in the wrong order.

We now turn off this road and head south, further downhill, through a mostly very old Arab settlement to find the old City of David in the most ancient part of Jerusalem.

We come across an ancient wall, probably several thousand years old.

This area is lower than the rest of Jerusalem and contains the Biblical pool of Siloam, made by King Hezekiah back in 701 BC. This is the pool where Jesus sent a beggar who had been born blind, to wash his eyes.

When the beggar came back, seeing perfectly, it put the religious Pharisees and rulers of Jerusalem into an uproar. This beggar was well known in the city, as he would sit out in the busy streets daily.

This spectacular miracle is recorded in John 9:11. This particular miracle, plus the raising of Lazarus from the dead a short time later, brought the jealousy of the Pharisees to a head and Jesus was put to death soon afterwards.

Three days later, to the astonishment and dismay of the Pharisees, Jesus raises himself back from the dead.

This afternoon we plan to visit the place where the resurrection occurred.

The poor Arab hillside settlement that we are walking through is quite filthy. Trash litters the sides of the streets and there are plastic trash bags stacked here and there. We see a few old, beat-up cars.

Like most low income neighbourhoods, there are many signs of life. Little children are playing in the streets, and their parents sit inside doorways or up on balconies.

The narrow winding streets, some only a car’s width wide, are made from paving stones, or are just unsurfaced brown rock. They twist in and around the buildings with paved stone steps going from one level to another. The exposed rock of the hillside can be seen everywhere.

We come to a dead end at one point and have to retrace our steps.

As we walk we smell cooking odours, and sometimes the unpleasant smell of decaying trash, rather like walking past a rubbish skip on a hot day.

The whole area is like a maze, but we finally come out on to the regular paved streets down below in the valley.

We then come across a large group of people, clearing a drain of weeds and shrubs. With their pale skins they must be Jews, but there seemed to be a few Arabs among them also.

Many young backpackers are standing around watching them work, and some are working with them.

What intrigues us most, is that this ‘working bee’ is actually guarded by three military police vehicles, with armed young soldiers.

However, I suppose if I was forced to live in the sort of squalor and restriction of freedom that these West Bank Palestinian Arabs encounter, I would also be angry with my Jewish overlords. Under such circumstances, I also might resent a group of Jewish do-gooders, such as this group, coming into my neighbourhood and performing this sort of work.

We manage to find the locality of the Pool of Siloam, but not as yet the actual pool.

We visit a local Arab shop here. The young male owner is very friendly and tries to pressure us into buying authentic-looking ancient oil lamps for US$35.

I am almost certain they are fakes, and say so, but he assures me they come with an official, printed certificate of authenticity. He says he will show us one. The certificate turns out to be a just a rubber-stamped impression on a piece of paper from an ordinary Trodat stamp. He probably made it himself.

Not put off by our scepticism, the shop owner then eagerly offers to take us through Hezekiah’s Tunnel, which winds underground for half a km to another part of Ancient Jerusalem. However he informs us that the water is chest deep in places, and the tunnel is pitch black, so we decide not to.

This famous water tunnel was constructed through limestone rock, using only pick axes in the days of King Hezekiah in 701 BC. The Bible says, "As for the other events of Hezekiah’s reign, all his achievements and how he made the pool and the tunnel by which he brought water into the city..." 2 Kings 20:20.

The tunnel was to maintain a supply of water to the city in times of enemy siege.

We explore this very run down area further and eventually find the Pool of Siloam through a series of gates. It is quite deep down and there is no access. We can only see it from above.

It has become quite hot down here in the valley. We are now faced with a long walk up a steep hill to get to Zion Gate of the Old City where we plan to visit next.

Noel is feeling this morning’s heat quite badly, but is doing OK. His hip has not played up at all on our trip.

On the way up we come across a man feeding his chickens. He also keeps a white horse on his barren section, feeding it with hay..

It is certainly quite a climb up to the Walled City. We see what looks like a short cut, up through the houses. We follow the narrow winding paths upward for a while, but it is turning out to be another maze. Then a buxom middle-aged Arab woman directs two young boys to show us the way. They lead us upward through alley ways and steps, back up to the Old City wall.

When we arrive they expect a tip, but Noel doesn’t have any small cash left. They look disappointed.

Once more we enter the bustling Old City, through the Zion Gate. We again visit David’s tomb but find the little museum still closed. Nearby is a Rabbi’s office for guidance.

So we walk to the section of Old Jerusalem we have not yet seen, called the Armenian section. There we visit the Armenian museum. This museum is located inside many arched rooms, leading off two levels of stone balconies inside an ancient courtyard. Highly exotic typical Middle East surroundings. Loud Armenian music is playing continually.

In the first room, we see a huge, ancient globe of the earth, with an odd-shaped New Zealand.

In another room we also see a large, silver, filigree censer. Enormously intricate. There is much other silver work on display.

A soldier’s coat of mail armour is also on display in the museum. Quite fascinating.

Evidently the Armenians suffered a Jewish-like holocaust by the Turks during 1835-1915 and lost 1.5 million people. There are some gruesome photos on display in connection with this.

We locate the nearby Armenian cathedral, whose service we plan to attend at 3 pm this afternoon. As we have a pre-planned tour tomorrow, I decided to make today my Sabbath day.

I have the three holy days to choose from here in Israel, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I was interested to learn before I left home, that in Egypt the local Mormons meet on the Moslem Holy Day of Friday. Sunday is just a normal work day for over 90% of the population.

Armenians are Eastern Orthodox Catholics and worship the Virgin Mary. Their Holy Day is of course Sunday but they have a service every day.

Next we enter the Jewish area of Old Jerusalem. Here we come across a walled-off open Fortress with Star of David blue and white Israeli flags flying.

Admission is expensive and we have not been able to find an ATM machine to draw out more cash, so we just peep inside, through a small emergency exit.

However we are spotted standing in the exit by a Jewish police woman who is patrolling inside the Fortress. She erroneously thinks that we are paying tourists from inside the Fortress, who are trying to go out the wrong way. So she motions us inside the Fortress and points to the official exit on the other side.

She doesn’t understand English, and we can’t make her understand that we are only peeping in from the outside. So, in the end, to keep the peace, we walk through the Fortress, along the covered stone corridors and walkways provided. It is quite interesting. There are many trees. They also have a model railway running around, which seems crassly out of place. We see narrow slots in the walls from where soldiers anciently could shoot their arrows.

We eventually exit the Fortress out into the streets of the Jewish sector again. We are in an open court area. Suddenly two Israeli mounted policemen gallop noisily into the court, guns at their side, riding brown horses.

We just never know what we’re going to see next in Jerusalem.

We return to the Arab Souk Markets again and manage to find a tiny, good quality jewellery shop. On display is much fine jewellery, claimed to be made by the owner himself, who is a small-boned Bedouin.

How he can find time to make all the jewellery and look after his shop at the same time is not explained.

I decide to buy Marie’s present here, a gold bangle. I end up spending more than I had planned, but Noel thinks I have got very good value. Unfortunately I forgot to take a picture of it. (Marie gave it to my daughter Harmony who is living in Australia now.)  I also bought her a pendant which is pictured below.

Noel also considers buying a pendant silver necklace for Rana.

We then go looking for an ATM machine, to obtain more cash. But despite directions from three different people we can’t find one.

It is nearly 3 pm, so we return to the Armenian church to attend their musically ornate mass service. These services are highly recommended for tourists.

However we run into a problem. They will not let Noel in because he is wearing shorts, even though they are knee length. Shorts are not worn by men in this part of the world and are regarded as indecent.

So Noel decides to go shopping by himself while I go in and attend the service.

The church is dark inside and incredibly lavishly decorated. Hundreds of ornate gold and silver chandeliers and censers hang in the air. Many of these are supported by long chains hung from the high ceiling. Some of the chandeliers contain many lit candles. Some are very colourful with yellows and reds. Hundreds of paintings and icons line the walls.

There are no pews, just open space with a tiled floor and rugs. A few bench seats are located around the walls.

The service soon begins and is most impressive, in an overly ornate way. Full of pomp and ceremony that would even put English royalty to shame.

It starts with about 60 men, probably Armenians, many of them old with long beards, dressed in black, marching from a side room into the church. They then change into flowing rich robes, mostly dark red and orange. They sit down along one side of the wall and listen patiently to a long scripture reading in Armenian, by a robed man sitting high up in a little alcove near the ceiling.

Then the 60 men file into the centre part of the church. More candles are lit and singing begins. This is in a sort of lead and follow arrangement, all in the Armenian language I presume. Perhaps the Psalms.

Then some more robed men come into the church from another side room, this time carrying smoking censers with clanking chains. They march around, clanking them in time to the singing. The church, or more accurately I suppose, the cathedral, fills with fragrant smoke.

Things keep increasing in crescendo. The singing grows louder. Begins to sound rather like Handel’s Messiah. Some of the red-robed men form a square and don black hoods. I sneak a photo without the flash, but it is a bit blurry due to poor light and camera movement,

This service is very impressive to watch as a spectator, especially for the first time, but I am not sure that this ritualistic religious service could hold the interest of too many people long term, especially not children. It does not feel as if I have worshipped God in any way by attending this service, or have honoured his Holy Day. However if I had understood the language it probably would have been much more meaningful.

I do not believe ritualistic religion is particularly useful for improving mankind. Jesus taught a more loving and practical way to worship, which is depicted in the books of Acts.

The service lasted for about 45 minutes. About 20 other tourists have stood watching like me, or sat on the rear side seats.

When the service ends I walk back out into the real world again, with its glaring sun and heat. Noel is waiting for me. I am disappointed he missed the experience.

Next we leave the Old City, through the Damascus Gate that the guide brought us through yesterday and walk the Jerusalem’s streets to the nearby Garden Tomb.

This place, at the foot of a limestone hill, is about half a km from the Old City wall and contains the burial tomb of Jesus where he was raised back to life. Also most Protestant Christians believe that the hill here is Golgotha (or Calvary in Luke’s gospel), where Jesus was crucified. Both Golgotha and Calvary mean ‘skull’.

It all appears to match the Bible description perfectly, unlike the church site we visited yesterday in the Old City, which does not seem to agree with the Bible account. I feel 100% better about this crucifixion and burial site than the other church site.

The whole area is fenced off and maintained by a Christian group. It is refreshingly clean and contains a manicured garden.

As we look up the cliff face, to the low hilltop where the crucifixion is believed to have taken place, we can see the outline of a crude skull in the exposed limestone.

The Bible says that Golgotha (or Calvary) was called the place of a skull. "…they were come unto a place called Golgotha, that is to say, a place of a skull." Matthew 27:33).

We also visit the tomb area and I walk inside the tomb of Jesus. I am surprised I have free access. There is no one else around, just two small children playing.

Afterwards Noel and sit outside the tomb on a seat under a tree and have a drink of water and rest a while. It is very peaceful and clean.

We then leave the garden and visit the extensive caves that honeycomb the hill beneath Calvary. However we find they are now used as warehouse storage areas. Judging from the looks of some of the workmen working in there, we are not welcome.

So we return to the Old City and enter again through the Damascus gate. We again explore the fascinating Arab Souk markets, walking through endless alleyways for about 2 kms.

We again try and enter the Dome of the Rock Mosque area by a restricted special tourist entrance, but we are barred by police who tell us it is closed for the day. The police here sometimes drive a funny little two seater truck. I suppose you could call it a trucklet. Looks to be based on the chassis of quad bike, popular on NZ farms.

I am disappointed at not being able to enter the Dome of the Rock Mosque area.

We leave the Old City and begin our walk home to our hotel.

Again we climb up through the tombs. We take a different route this time and find two large memorial tombs.

In the late afternoon sun we have a splendid view of the gold domes of the Eastern Orthodox church.

As we climb the steep hill, we notice many of the stone coffins (or sarcophagus) seem oddly small, only large enough to take the body of a baby.

We later discover on the Internet, back in the hotel, that during some periods of history, the Jews would bury their dead twice. First to allow the flesh to rot off the bones, and then they would gather the bones again and place them in these small permanent stone coffins.

Noel orders me Falafel for dinner from room service. He has enormous difficulty in getting them to understand what he wants over the telephone.

Noel and I pronounce it ‘fell-a-fell’ but when I get back to New Zealand I am told that it is pronounced ‘ful-arful’. No wonder they can’t understand him.

Anyway, they finally understand what Noel is ordering for me and soon a knock comes at the door and I receive three large Falafels. However I can only eat two of them. So Noel eats the other one. We have ice cream for pudding.

We have probably walked 20 kms today, and I must have drunk about four litres of water.

I have been studying the typical Jewish face today. It is fair skinned, in comparison to the olive brown Arab. It is also oval in side profile, similar to the oval of an egg, with a forehead which slopes back, a rounded nose line which follows the same contour as the sloping forehead. There is also a very high upper lip, and an inward sloping chin.

The picture below was kindly posed by my Tauranga Jewish friend Brion Bott, who is a pure Levite Jew, descended from the priestly line of Aaron who was the first Israelite high priest and brother of Moses. More about Brion later.

The side profile of a classic Jewish face (my NZ friend Brion Bott).

The Arab face in side profile can be similar, but is generally more angular and upright in the forehead.

As mentioned earlier, some of the Hasidim Jews walk with a waddle, their stomach poked out and their back arched inward quite strongly, and their arms behind their backs.

All the Jewish police and soldiers, who are mostly young and probably doing compulsory military service, carry sub-machine guns.

The nights here in our hotel are very warm and we are sleeping under sheets only.

We often hear voices outside the hotel on the street at night, mostly children and young people. Sometimes hoon cars roar up the cul-de-sac road to the hotel and sound their horns.

This hotel area seems to be a windy spot at certain times, but there is barely any wind at all on the other side of the valley, only here on the Mount of Olives.