Hezekiah's Tunnel

I have to attempt something very important with this post. Namely, I have to successfully tell you all about our shabbat trip to Hezekiah's Tunnel in the City of David. I must do so without making it entirely about the screaming children who walked behind us the entire way through.

First of all, this is the test I warned you about. Did you read the wikipedia link on Hezekiah's Tunnel? If not, it's a water drench dug underneath of Jerusalem so that the city could have water in case of siege.   They dug from two separate ends and met at the middle. How they managed that is incredible. In the tunnel itself, we saw several turns and brief dead ends where it appeared they had started to dig in one direction and quickly corrected their course. While the real inscription is now in the British Museum, another facsimile marks the place where the two teams met. 

The entrance to the tunnel is beneath a place called the City of David, a park that somehow marks the ancient city and resembled the entrance to a water park more than anything else, with wood paneling, ticket windows, lockers, and shops. We'd walked there from the Kotel a few yards away, so the transition was unexpected.

This was one sight in particular we were eager to visit, despite the fact that we were...er, slightly nervous. The tunnel, you see, is exactly that. A tunnel. Built to carry water and perhaps not so many people. It's a 1500-foot walk through calf-deep water in total darkness, or at least it would be were it not for the flashlights carried by the line of visitors. At its widest, it's just wide enough for you to pass through comfortably. As far as height...we probably spent about a third of the time completely doubled over to fit through. Frankly, I can't believe I made it through. I had a moment of panic when we splashed into hip-deep water as the lit staircase gave way to black crags and curves. But, I took a deep breath, held onto the back of Jordan's backpack for dear life, and told myself I would regret chickening out. After that, once you're in, you're in. There isn't exactly room to turn around, so the only way out is onward. 1500 feet of sardine-squished of onward. Eventually, I told myself it wasn't so bad. Because that was the only option. It was completely worth it though. We were, after all, walking through a passage carved out some two to three thousand years ago. We occasionally had to grip onto the walls to keep from slipping in the water (or to catch a quickly floating away shoe), and Jordan wondered aloud how long they could keep the tunnel open before people's hands simply eroded the walls away. Our way back was confused. We were told that the quickest way back was through a second tunnel (Oh. Goody.), this time lit and dry, which spit us out in a park beneath the Western Wall. We didn't mind the detour and spent an extra time photographing around there.

But the thing was. The thing. We're lined up in there person to person, and behind us the entire way was a group of 14 or so year old school children. Who screamed. The entire way. 45 minutes of screaming. Sometimes screaming just for the hell of it. Sometimes to see who could do it loudest. And sometimes, and this was the best one, to see if a panic would catch on. Jordan tried asking their leader to ask them to stop, and he just looked at her blankly. It's stressful in the tunnel, and we were at our wit's end, as were all the other visitors in front of us. When we absolutely couldn't take it anymore, we saw the light, and emerged back into Jerusalem. Having been driven outright mad, I approached their leader and told him that their behavior in a place like this was inappropriate. He told me they were young and scared and that excused it. I said it didn't and left. (Scared children don't sing 'Somebody I Used to Know' and pretend there are rats at their feet.) Now, I am not one to approach people. Pretty much ever. And hey, maybe this was just my schools, but I knew if I had behaved like that on a school trip (first of all, my Dad came on all the trips, so it wouldn't matter what my school did because he would have actually killed me for such behavior. See, Dad? You totally taught me something.), if we had behaved so poorly that someone had to come up to one of the teachers and say something, we would've been in trouble until graduation. I was always taught when we travelled, we were representatives of our school and carried its reputation with us. Here, they also carried the reputation of their country in a Holy Land. I even remembered times in elementary school when our teacher would tell us about someone who had approached her on a school trip to say how well we behaved and why this was a good thing. Maybe this is just what I was taught. And maybe I was just so completely startled by people on whom this concept was lost, on people who thought an ancient archaeological site in a foreign country was equivalent to their morning school bus. And maybe 45 minutes of screaming pushes me to new limits.

So on our way out, Jordan asked a different leader the name of their school. Which we googled. And wrote a letter to. As of ten minutes ago, I had a response saying my comments would be considered in conjunction with other ones they had received about their good behavior. That's all I ask. And I felt better.

After that, it was back, in a round about sort of way, to campus, with a few wrong buses, a stop at an Ethiopian Church, for a much-needed shower and my turn to cook Shabbat dinner. I got a rose wine (l'chaim, which is in fact, Hebrew for 'to life.' Go figure.), fresh challah, apple cake, and cooked curried couscous with eggplant, tomatoes, pepper, chickpeas, and peas. It was, if I may say, delicious. Since we had to finish cooking by sundown, we sat and talked and ate from 5 until 10. We were later joined by Noriko, our flatmate, who shared ice cream with us. I very much enjoy the Sabbath.

Yesterday, I took the 'rest' concept of the Sabbath to heart and slept. Quite a lot. I spent the rest of the day catching up on some studying. When you do 25 hours of Hebrew class a week, it's easy to fall behind.

How long we're here for is starting to catch up with me. It feels like ages, and it hasn't yet been 2 weeks. Still three and a half to go. I suspect I will be exceptionally tired when I finally get home.

Inside the Hezekiah Tunnel

Jordan in the Tunnel

Park beneath the Wall