I was looking for a sung Mass to attend before I departed the Holy Land when a Jesuit friend recommended this Greek Catholic Church of the Annunciation. It is arguably the most representative Byzantine church in Jerusalem, built in 1848.

The Greek Melkite Catholic Church in the Holy Land shares a common history with the Greek Orthodox Church. This common history lasted until 1724 when the hierarchy was split in two in the three Melkite Patriarchates of Antioch, Alexandria, and Jerusalem.Since then, it has been in full communion with the Church of Rome and, at the same time, deeply rooted in the Eastern tradition.

From the dome down to pew-height, its interior is richly adorned with frescoes in vibrant colours.

The entire interior is richly adorned with frescoes in vibrant colours. (Click to enlarge)

The Liturgy and hymns are in Arabic, the language of Arabic Palestinian Christians in the Holy Land. I was fortunate to be there with two groups from Germany and Switzerland in the congregation. They finshed the Mass with a rousing, more melodic hymn to Mary, sung in parts – Meerstern, ich dich grüße – Star of the Sea, I Salute you, which I truly enjoyed.

I read in the booklet that The Fathers of the Church call the Divine Liturgy, “Heaven on Earth”. As I was leaving, the affable, white-bearded priest greeted me, asking where I was from, saying “I hope you enjoyed you short time of ‘Heaven on Earth’ with us this morning”.

See VIDEO of this Mass (from 1.00) below.

This will be my ‘last post’ (on Facebook) from the Holy Land. I am at Tel Aviv Airport ready to fly out to London, via Zurich.

The Mass in the Byzantine Rite commences behind the iconostasis

Procession of the Gifts in this Byzantine Church with its interior is richly adorned with frescoes in vibrant colours. (Click to enlarge)

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I take in ‘suburban’ backstreet activity in this 2,000 year-old setting; and somehow I end up by stumbling into the ancient square outside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, pulsing with pilgrims.

Christ Pantocrator mosaic in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (Click to enlarge)

Feet hurting, and turning for home, I see the Jewish people in different modes of traditional dress quickly making their way to somewhere as the day of rest draws to a close.

PHOTOS – Please click HERE to view

After singing from the Song of Solomon: “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine, that feedeth among the lilies”; and other rhythmic verses, the female rabbi launched into a very sensuous version of ‘Hallelujah’, which we know better from Lenny Cohen.

The congregation seemed to be very young in age, but I learn that there was a group of Mormon Biblical students from the Brigham Young University, as well as another group from Germany with Moslem students – very ecumenical.

Dinner as guest of Fr David at the St James Vicariate (Click to enlarge)

Afterwards, we went home to join other friends for the Shabbat meal. A prayer was said over the wine sanctifying the Shabbat, and then another prayer over two loaves of bread, which another broke and distributed with a shake of salt.

The Jewish and Catholic traditions are similar, but different. I’m ashamed to say that it’s taken me 71 years to really start to understand this Jewish tradition.

As the sun sets, Shabbat is about to be over for another week for this family

PHOTOS – Click HERE to see all the photos

In more recent times, it’s more about the search for peace and justice between Israel and Palestine that has my attention.

The heady scent of pines, rosemary and iceberg roses in the heat of the sun appeals as I wander lazily. And I discover a great little corner of the garden beside the swimming pool, sheltered by large white umbrellas where I will go for a bite in the early afternoon.

A walk in the gardens of the King David Hotel in Jerusalem

I was energized in being in this place so central to civilisation; the home of the three main monotheistic religions. I opted for ‘touring’ three days in a row, without rest. And I’m pleased with my decision to have a guide who was content to make plans on a day-to-day basis. I loved that flexibility; to set the pace; to stop and take photos; ask questions; and pause when we wanted to.

I’m tired, but now I have three more days to reflect and do my own thing; go back to places in the Old City of Jerusalem that touched me. Visit a church with music; walk with the crowds in procession along the Via Dolorosa on a Friday afternoon. Leave my camera at home (if I can!); sing; pray. It’s endless. Maybe even sleep.

Tonight, I go to the synagogue for Shabbat.

I wake to a view over the Walls of the Old City

Chilled Mediterranean fig for lunch by the pool - so good on a hot day. In my old London days, friend Hector would always chill the plate as well as the fig before serving. But I can't have everything.

 
In and out of the West Bank around Jerusalem today!

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Ron, my guide has the licence that gives us freedom of passage, but requiring prior telephone notification to the Military for visiting the towns of Jericho and Bethlehem. The hotel concierge was suggesting an Israeli taxi to the checkpoint and having a Palestinian taxi meet me there and drive me to Bethlehem. He was also very dismissive of anything of interest over there other than the Church of the Nativity. The complexity, and cost of such a small half-day arrangement is affirmation of the value of investing in my own guide for the duration.

'Tea for two' - Jordanian soldiers across the River Jordan at the spot where John baptised Jesus. (Click to enlarge)

Continuing towards the biblical town of Jericho, the desert is dry, white, inhospitable and unforgiving in the hot sun. I can’t imagine how the ‘ancient fathers’ survived going from one town to the next, but Ron tells me, “Think Bedouin”. My friend Father John writes from Bangalore only this morning, “Michael, do the walk that Jesus is said to have done several times: from Jerusalem to Jericho through the wilderness. Take plenty of water with you, however.” He’s gotta be kidding!

Inhospitable and unforgiving landscape in the Judaean Desert . . . a new road through the West Bank

We stop to view the Mount of Temptation abov

Emerging from a tunnel under Mt Scopus, I get my first sighting of ‘The Wall’ and illegal Israeli settlements lining cliff top positions in the West Bank. There has to be fair negotiations, and accommodation in some form to right this wrong.

Michael in the Judean Desert on the way to the Dead Sea. (Click to enlarge photos)

Reaching the Dead Sea, the lowest place on earth, I see Jordan just across the water with settlements on the opposite bank. This whole part of Palestine (and Jerusalem) belonged to Jordan until the 6-day War in 1967.

A cable car takes us up to Masada, a UNESCO World Heritage site of the impregnable fortress where King Herod the Great built one of his Palace complexes 2,000 years ago.

I walked with my guide from the Mount of Olives, down the slopes to the Garden of Gethsemane and across the Kidron Valley to enter the Old City through the Lion’s Gate, and along the Via Dolorosa.

Walls of the Old City across the Kidron Valley from the Mt of Olives where I walked today (Click on photo to open in larger picture)

Station 2 - Jesus carries his cross (in the Church of the Condemnation)

I tell today’s story through the captions on the photos. Christians will readily recognize the events and places in the last days of Jesus before his Crucifixion.

I’ve interspersed these with other colourful situations in the streets and alleyways of old Jerusalem.

This poor lady on the Via Dolorosa would have many crosses of her own

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An enticing smell of wild thyme assaults my nostrils as I walk down the new Mamilla Mall towards Jaffa Gate and approach the old walls of the Holy City. (Click to enlarge photo.)

I wonder what the Crusaders would have smelled, over and above themselves, as they approached the Holy City hundreds of years ago?

A more important quandry for me is spiriting myself back 2,000 years and wondering if I would have been in the crowd waving fronds of palms when a messianic character, who, until three years prior, had been a poor, day-labourer working on building the new cities in Galilee for the Roman Governor and the Jewish Elite?

I’ve nearly finished reading the new book, ‘Zealot’, by a Moslem author, Reza Aslan, on the Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth. He has placed Jesus in the historical context of life at that time, and his research corroborates (or not) the Evangelists’ accounts and ties back to the Old Testament. It’s been a great learning curve on the eve of this trip.

Michael at the Dome of the Rock

I stop for a freshly squeezed glass of pomegranate juice in the alleyway in the Markets (so far, so good)

Click to see a few photos from this first afternoon in Jerusalem.

I’m here! Checked-in to the King David Hotel in Jerusalem. Just before dawn! Allowed into Israel without even filling out an Entry Card, let alone having a visa.

Don’t know what to do first. So exciting looking from my room as the sun rises over the Western Wall outside my window.

Don't know what to do first. So exciting looking from my room as the sun rises over the Wailing Wall outside my window.

Breakfast at the King David is so Jewish: loud, big fawning older waiters always hovering; almost doing the lifting of my fork to my mouth; taking one cup of half-drunk coffee away and replacing it with another new piping hot cup; all the time with huge, fake smiles, like TWA stewardesses of old.

King David Hotel, Jerusalem - the home in Jerusalem for Kings and Politicians. Why am I here?

Burying my head in the International Tribune so as not to be asked what else I may like, the din of loud voices, uncontrolled children, makes me want to be like Jesus, up-ending tables and going berserk clearing the money changers and sellers from the Temple.

Gives me indigestion! And is going to cost me a packet. I should have known I was ‘marked’ when the maitre d’ ushered me to the centre table by the window with a nod to his greying mate in white jacket. (The cost of this Grand Buffet Breakfast is included in Cher’s Virtuoso room rate, but alas, the expected tips at the highest end of any accepted scale are not).

Eddy, so many of the guests remind me of our DSM friend and his sometimes feigned friendliness, but oft’ with a veiled agenda. There’s also tons of money, and real jewels. And here am I, just a boy from the bush. Edmundo is right. I’d be better in a convent!

Father Steve also suggested that the Sisters of Sidon would give me a peaceful clean room in their Convent, but I opted for the more ‘worldly’ route, and will now pay.

Words yet to Come

International Group - Australia, Puerto Rico, Brazil, Switzerland, Spain, Spain, Libya, Cuba

Michael in front of the 1st century Roman Bridge (click to enlarge)

Ricardo, Michael Iñesta, Edmundo, Nasser, and Michael M - in 'The Fields of Castille' (Click to enlarge)

It’s the smell of wet earth that strikes me; tantalises me, as I step out into the early morning sunshine.

The sun’s rays, shining through tall pines along neat rows of vines hanging heavy with black merlot grapes blind, as I crunch along the gravel path from my villa to the Casa Grande for breakfast, with eyes shaded.

The fresh morning air is all a twitter with birds, and geese honking from across the River Tormes, a tributary of the Duero that’s running underneath the main 14th century building that was once a Dominican Convent.

The last rose of summer . . .

Ten kilometres from Salamanca, we are in the heart of the Duero Valley, ensconced at Hacienda Zorita, set amidst vineyards of the Marqués de la Concordia wines. So tranquil: the only sounds are the birds, geese, and trickle of water. It’s 9 am and not a soul from the hacienda to be seen. Mozart plays softly in the breakfast room.

Yoghurt in an earthenware pot, Iberian ham, sliced tomato with a splash of the hacienda’s own olive oil, make for a healthy start in the farm-to-table restaurant. But there’s no denying myself, as I dip ‘little finger’-size bread sticks into a round of Torta de la Dehesa, a soft sheep’s milk, local cheese that’s a bit like runny camembert, and made here in the hacienda.

Torta de la Dehesa, a soft sheep’s milk, local cheese; a bit like runny camembert, made here in the hacienda.

Mid morning, and the heat of the day extracts smells more pungent than the pleasing wet earth of early morning. Pines that hug old stonewalls and straggly lengths of old lavender bloom make a pleasing potpourri right outside my villa.

I’m staying home today.

I moved into a nun's cell in the Casa Grande main building with view down over the River Tormes

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Salamanca – Hacienda Zorita

There’s no ‘Rain in Spain’, only sunshine, as I walk down the Paseo de la Castellana ‘on the street where I live’, in Madrid. I arrived here after midnight last night from Sydney, via Bangkok. And I was more than ready to stretch my legs and reacquaint myself with the area and get some exercise out in the autumn sunshine.

I find myself all the way down at the Prado and decide to go in and buy a ticket – only €7 for admission, with white hair. Then this lovely lady, Beatrice approaches me and offers her services . . . (as a private guide), which I gladly take up. 

Straight to Velázquez and his paintings of the male form, musculature but covered because of fear of the Inquisition (there go those rabid right-wing Catholics again). Then across to Rubens with his female nudes including the famous ‘Three Graces’. And of course some wonderful Goya that includes his series of ‘black paintings’ done in the later period of his life.

My back is sore at the end of it all so I hop a cab back to the hotel for a late snack.

Photos to be uploaded later. Facebook photos in the meantime.
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EARLY MORNING WALK IN BANGRAK MARKETS – behind my hotel.

Early morning street scene in Bangkok

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One Night in Bangkok

Blog post to come.

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Jeremy and May Visit 2013

FISHERMAN’S SEAFOOD CHOWDER AT THE NEW BLANC HARU IN ELIZABETH BAY – NOT ONE BUT FOUR TUBES OF TENDER BABY CALAMARI! JUST $15

I t beggars belief that a Fisherman’s Seafood Chowder can contain fresh prawns, mussels, oysters, and yes four tubes of the most tender baby calamari.

The soup is made from a stock of fresh fish bones, onion, parsley, with white wine, cream and paprika, and is served in a hollowed out, homemade bread roll. A bowl of French fries and a crisp garden salad also come on the tray – for $15.

It’s difficult to believe that for this price, even the bread roll is hand-made on the premises each day using a French baguette base combined with wholemeal and sourdough.

The soup is made from a stock of fresh fish bones, onion, parsley, with white wine, cream and paprika, and is served in a hollowed out, homemade bread roll. Click on photo to open to full size lightbox.

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