I am sitting in my hotel which is five minutes from the Garden Tomb and close to the Damascus Gate of the Old City.
This morning, I entered that gate to the call to prayer, a beautiful and glorious sound that swept over all of us in the Muslim quarter of the city. I wandered into a patisserie owned by an young man and sat down to a marvelous pistachio pastry and a copy of coffee that would put most coffee in North America to shame. And experienced exquisite Arab hospitality and kindness.
And then I wandered: Jew, Christian, Muslim blend and flow in a beautiful cacophony of color and sound and the life of these narrow, ancient streets fills my heart with great joy.
I feel at home here, and was made to feel that way by all I met.
This morning, I entered that gate to the call to prayer, a beautiful and glorious sound that swept over all of us in the Muslim quarter of the city. I wandered into a patisserie owned by an young man and sat down to a marvelous pistachio pastry and a copy of coffee that would put most coffee in North America to shame. And experienced exquisite Arab hospitality and kindness.
And then I wandered: Jew, Christian, Muslim blend and flow in a beautiful cacophony of color and sound and the life of these narrow, ancient streets fills my heart with great joy.
I feel at home here, and was made to feel that way by all I met.
