Update on Sir Poops: Right now, he’s on the sofa watching the Early Show. This morning he hobbled-ran outside to do his business. He definitely doesn’t like diapers. I can’t blame him. Laying around in pee for several hours doesn’t appeal to me either.
Anyway, Sir Poops is back to his happy, chatty self. He’s eating, drinking, and hobbling around. He’s still unable to walk great distances so for the most part, I’m still carrying him where he wants to go. Sofa. Upstairs. To the bed. Car. Who knows, he may talk me into buying him a stroller.
His front left paw and the left back leg still drag though, but he seems much better.
Okay. Off to Jerusalem.
After we drove through the Negev and the Judean desert our car over heated right when we entered Jerusalem. It’s get up and go, got up and went. Our friend Daniella coasted us through the city somewhere behind the Cardo.
The picture below is somewhere behind the Cardo. By this time, my head felt like it was going to explode and my clothes were clinging to me. And, Sweetman had completely morphed into Mr. Hyde.
Our first stop once inside the Cardo was a falafel stand. Sorry, no pics. Sweetman was baring fangs. It was a scary sight.
“We need to hurry,” he said. “We’re not stopping to look at everything.”
“But aren’t we going to The Wall to say our prayers?” I asked.
“Yes, but quickly.” He pulled me to the falafel counter. “Daniella’s car isn’t in good condition.”
The guy was putting fried potatoes on our sandwiches. I don’t like fried anything other than the chickpea balls.
We paid for and grab our sandwiches. I picked out the greasy potatoes and dropped them in the nearest garbage can on our way to a vacant table.
Sweetman gobbles his falafel monster-style. The contents are dripping down his chin onto his shirt.
“Can I get a fork?” I don’t want my food running down the front of me.
Sweetman’s eyes bulge and he puts the remnants of his sandwich down. “They don’t have any.”
“How do you know? Did you ask?”
He pushes himself away from the table, metal scraping the concrete. He rushes back to the falafel counter. The guy is gone. Smoke is bellowing out of his head.
“He’s not there,” Sweetman growled.
“He’ll be back.” Tears welled in my eyes.
Sweetman faced the counter, turned back around, and walked back to our table with a fork. “What are you crying about? Here.” He handed me a plastic fork.
“You’re being nasty. Just wait til I post this story on my blog.”
“Hurry up and eat. We don’t have all day,” he said.
After our meal, Sweetman rushed us through the following:
The Cardo
Outside the Cardo
By the Wailing Wall
The Wall is divided. There’s the women's side and the men's side.
People cram their prayers into the cracks of The Wall. I did some of my own prayer-cramming.
Plus, vegetation grows out of The Wall. How cool is that.
Before I left I caught a Muslim and an Orthodox on the men’s side praying side-by-side. Talk about a complex society.
Inside of the Cardo again.
Outside the Cardo.
A man’s head lies in the grave below for not following orders.
And, his body lies in this one below. I forget the story but remember he was ordered to stop construction, refused, and pissed off the British royalty so he lost his head over it.
Jafa Gate
This concludes today’s post. Hope you all have a great day!
See you later in the ink!
Shelly
