Travel Jerusalem: A Modern Guide To An Ancient Wonder

Posted on January 30, 2015 by Holly Thomas

by Holly Thomas. All images by iPhone, copyright Holly Thomas [Twitter, Instagram: @HolstaT]

Jerusalem is in our consciousness from earliest childhood. But it’s a place that, for many of those who have never been, occupies the same mental space as fairy tales. Something which we’ve known of since we can remember, but can’t imagine being real. I’m not religious, and in Jerusalem you are met at every turn with things which described second-hand would sound preposterous. But when you’re there, the history of it all is immediate, indisputable, and alive.

It helps that so much architecture is – against all odds – beautifully preserved. Jerusalem has amplified since the days of crusades and crucifixions and the new city and West Bank stretch far, swaddling villages and towns, including Bethlehem. But step inside the Old City, home to the Western Wall, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and the site of the Last Supper, and you’re plunged into another world.

So, you should go to the Old City first

The Old City stands east of the (busy) Hebron Road, which runs through the centre of Jerusalem. The sections of Hebron Road which north and south of the West Bank, and through Jerusalem, are barred to green – Palestinian – license plates. Israeli license plates are yellow. Jerusalem feels safe, and as a traveller, you have nothing to fear.

The first thing you see when you walk through Jaffa Gate on the Western side of the city is King David’s Tower, which was built (bar an extension courtesy of the Turks) by King Herod – a crack architect, it turns out. Every night the sand-coloured building plays host to a light show which tells the 3000-year story of Jerusalem accompanied by music. It’s a beautiful show, well worth spending 30 minutes on to get a sense of the city’s roots. It’s a tiny place but the concentration of marvellous things is so high that I couldn’t possibly recommend them all in this space. So here are a few unmissables. Everything is so close together that I promise you’ll discover your own in-between hunting these out:

The Western (wailing) Wall

For obvious reasons, this is the only area of the Old City which you must pass though some security to enter. Standing against a backdrop of the Mount of Olives, and with the Call to Prayer echoing regularly just next door, it is plain why this is a site of high emotion for so many. But it’s so worth seeing. Dress conservatively – knees covered – and behave with respect for the three thousand years of history the wall represents.

The Cenaculum of the Last Supper

This is just down the street from the Western Wall, but for the full experience, head to the Church by way of the Stations of the Cross. These days the path is lined with shops and stalls, but there are still lasting signs, such as the Church of Simon, built on the spot where its namesake apparently helped a fatigued Jesus make his final steps.

A few treasures in the Church

The first thing you see when you Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the stone of the anointing, where Jesus is said to have been prepared for burial. To reach the site of the crucifixion itself, you must pass through a small, dark archway and climb a short winding staircase. There you’ll find the Alter of the Crucifixion, and next to it a hole in the floor covered by glass, exposing the bare ground below. Be prepared for a crowd, particularly in the evening and on Sunday. Descend the other side, and you’ll see what looks like a sensationally ornate hut – that’s the Aedicule, which contains the Holy Sepulchre itself. The Aedicule has two rooms, one holding the Angel’s Stone, which is believed to be a fragment of the large stone that sealed the tomb, and another holding the tomb itself. Be prepared to queue for entry.

The roof

This was my favourite place in Jerusalem. I was lucky in that I met someone who showed me how to get up there, but it wouldn’t be hard to find someone to point the way (you might have to be prepared to buy a trinket off one of the street stall vendors). Go at dawn or sunset, if you can. Unlike the walls walk, the roof is never closed.

Away from the bustle of the tourist-jammed streets below, this is where you’ll feel you’re in the Jerusalem the Romans found. Schoolboys park their bikes up there, people hang their washing (oddly like Edinburgh, Jerusalem is stacked in layers, house atop house atop street), and you can quite literally see everything from a perspective you’d never otherwise have known existed.

Don’t forget the new city

I’ll admit I biased my time in Jerusalem pretty heavily in favour of “old stuff”, but there’s a whole lot beyond that to see if you fancy a dip into the 21st century between biblical ruins. Try the market, unlikely jazz cafes in the evenings, and the adorable hipster quarter. There are a few decent clubs, but if you want a wild one, go to Tel Aviv (about 40 minutes in a taxi). And don’t be perturbed by all the teenagers with guns – they’re in the middle of their compulsory military service.

Further afield

The Holocaust Museum

If you only have time for one excursion beyond Jerusalem’s city centre, make it to the Holocaust Museum. It was the first stop on our trip, and it lingered in the back of our minds until long after we’d left. The building is stark, and beautiful, clean lines which stand in the midst of quiet serpentine grounds dotted with trees, overlooking the valley. Entry is free, but children under ten years old aren’t permitted inside.

Set at least 4 hours aside for it if you can. If you have a day spare, this could fill it. There is a staggering amount to see, plus over 11 hours of video footage playing throughout the main exhibition alone. It’s all riveting, beautifully presented, and will tug powerfully at your heart. The extraordinary breadth and delicacy of the subject matter is handled exquisitely, covering the historical prelude to the Shoah, the Nazi’s rise to power and gradual attrition of Jewish liberties, and at last the gruesome unfolding of the Holocaust across Europe in horrifying detail. The collection is acutely personal, packed with details which will knock your breath out. Like mementoes from the ghetto, set next to a video interview describing first-hand the sight of emaciated bodies littering the street, no clothes spare to protect their final modesty. There are letters flung through train windows bidding farewells which were never known, and charred shoes from the death camps piled in a heap on the floor. There is more to take in than you possibly could in one viewing, but once you start you will continue, wrapt, until you are saturated. Make sure that you leave time at the end for the children’s memorial, a cave in the grounds with candles reflected to infinity on its mirrored walls. Also, the Avenue of the Righteous Among The Nations, where you’ll find a tree dedicated to Oskar Schindler and his wife Emilie.

Out of town

Go to the Jordon Valley. Sinking 400 kilometres below sea level is like arriving onto another planet, conversely a drier, hotter, desert Mars-like planet, dotted with thin donkeys and ibexes. If you can, pass Jericho on your way to the beach. It’s one of the oldest cities in the world, dating back 11,000 years. It was Alexander the Great’s private estate, and King Herod later leased it from Cleopatra (who received it from Mark Anthony as a gift). Even if you just drive past it, it’s worth planning your West Bank route around. And you must an hour or two aside for a trip up to Herod’s fortress on Masada.

Masada (Herod’s fortress)

You can either climb or take a ski lift up the mountain to see this spectacular evidence of Herod’s final paranoia (he built the fortress in -reasonable – anticipation of a rebellion by his long-suffering subjects). The view is unparalleled, and to Herod’s credit as a mad architect, the fortress remains in fantastic condition millennia later. See if you can spot the lockers in the wall next to the old indoor swimming pool (really). Also remember to walk right up to the edge (it’s obvious where that is once you’re up there) and shout something into the canyon for a wicked echo.

The beach

The Dead Sea calls for a couple of hours at most. Spend longer and you’ll get bored, but a dip and a splash is uplifting and delightful. It’s smaller than you’d imagine – so much so that iPhones became confused, and O2 welcomed me to Jordon (which was visible through the mist which hung over the water). The beaches are concurrently small, dotted along the shore, and have a vaguely dated resort-like feel. A hint of Butlins lingers over the deserted playground behind the beach huts. The water, though, is magical. Slather yourself in thick mud, wait for it to dry, and then wade in to rinse it off. You *really* can’t sink, and Jesus’s feats suddenly appear less fantastical as you realise the impossibility of not floating. Lie on your back and you feel supported, safe, and importantly, warm.

Where to stay

The Arthur Hotel has resided comfortably on Tripadvisor Jerusalem’s top five list for some time now, and it’s instantly clear why. This boutique hotel – just 15 minutes’ walk (or a three minute tram ride) from the Old City maintains an intimate, private atmosphere, tucked down a side street of one of the most buzzing neighbourhoods in Jerusalem. The service is lovely – you hardly notice it’s there until you need something, at which point help materialises immediately. The rooms have an individual, luxurious feel, and are decorated with obvious care, a world away from the homogeny of so many elite chain hotels. Breakfast, served as a daily buffet from 7am-10am, is delicious, with regional delicacies such as shakshuka, grilled vegetables, and fish offered alongside more familiar pastries, cereal and fruit salad. For explorers who have been too busy gaping at their surroundings to stop for lunch during the day, there is also a ‘happy hour’ in the restaurant from 5pm-7pm, where you can enjoy snacks and sandwiches with your complimentary wine.

Final note

Jerusalem is a complicated place, no mistake. There isn’t space here to dwell on the implications that one of the holiest sites on earth, sacred to so many, is perplexed on all sides by strife. There is pain in Jerusalem, both older than the ruins, and newer than the Hebron road. If you ask why it isn’t advised to go to the Mount of Olives on a particular day (this is sometimes the case, though visitors really are the safest people in the city), the answer you get will vary hugely depending on who you ask. Wounds are deep, and though I fell for Israel heart and soul, I think it is necessary to stay mindful of your surroundings. This shouldn’t be a deterrent – on the contrary, it should be an incentive to go to this important and fascinating country. Just be respectful and cautious with your opinions when you are talking to the people for whom it is home. “It sounds silly, to call a four-day trip ‘life changing’,” said my friend on the plane back. “But it was.”

Kennedy’s Chocolatiers’ Convention; The Latest In Chocolate

Posted on October 4, 2013 by Holly Thomas

“It’s just lovely,” says Richard Reilly, Managing Director of Kinnerton Confectionary. Everyone knowseveryone, and people tend to help out where they can. Around Easter sometimes we make eggs for each other.”

I nod through a mouthful of rum and raisin ganache truffle. We’re standing in the British Library, a venue aptly ripe with imagination and invention for the Chocolate Industry Network, where manufacturers, innovators and gluttons gather annually to discuss their dearest subject. There are tables covered in samples, chocolate moulds, chocolate history, chocolate everything. “You should come see the chocolates being made in the Norfolk factory. It’s beautiful,” adds Richard. Willy Wonka might dance off the shelves at any moment.

Not all industries are nice. Fashion is notoriously bitchy. Finance is stressful.

But the business of making chocolate seems rather sweet. Richard is keen to stress this point, enthusing: “Everyone knows about the main producers of course. But there’s camaraderie among the lesser-known chocolate makers. We’ll happily make things for one another here and there. Co-operation is good, it’s all about trade.”

And so riding our sugar high, we network away. The day consists of a mixture of lectures, discussions, and general chat over the good stuff. Refreshing lemon drinks are on offer for those who have had a little too much. I learn about the always-encouraging health advantages from Leen Allegaert, an innovation manager in clinical research. Apparently just 10 grams of high-cocoa chocolate provides beneficial flavanol, an antioxidant which helps to maintain the elasticity of blood vessels. This contributes to normal blood flow and general cardiovascular health. “And that amount only contains 55 calories. It’s pretty reasonable,” adds Leen. It occurred to me that I must already have consumed enough chocolate during the day to reap the delightful effects of flavanol many, many times over.

There are inspirational stories brewed in the conches of chocolate factories all over the world. Heikel Ethel, owner and manager of the Lebanese company Ethel Chocolates, describes his embryonic creations when he set out to form a business in the early nineties: “I clumsily sandwiched biscuits – I bought bags of all kinds that I could lay my hands on- with chocolate for the children in the local villages around the Bekaa Valley.” Heikel was quick to respond to sweet-toothed demand, and his business grew swiftly. He bought a building, machinery, and took his brother on as sales manager. Two decades later what began as a one-man show is now one of the most well-regarded luxury chocolate brands in the world, operating out of 160,000 square metres of factory space. I sample several of his elegantly-packaged wares, they are refined and delicious.

There are still constant challenges, ones particular to operating within a turbulent environment. Ethel describes his approach as “The Lebanese reaction to a tough time.” Things change quickly, and he adapts. “Fuel and electricity are expensive at the moment. But we still train every employee how to wrap chocolates perfectly.” He stresses that Lebanon is an “open market country”. Saudi Arabia and Kuwait are the biggest buyers of his chocolates in the Middle East.

On the other side of the coin is Charbonnel et Walker, who have sold chocolates since 1875 out of their flagship store on Old Bond Street. Peter Irvine, Director of UK Sales and Export was adamant that even despite cruelly high rent, they would never change their location “to say, Regent Street”. Tradition is everything, even among employees. “Our average experience level on the core team is 25 years,” he added.

And Charbonnel have – gradually, carefully, made some headway towards attracting a younger market. Their ‘handbags and heels’ range of shaped chocolates shifts 250,000 units per year, and their target demographic is no longer the over-sixties. Women between 35 and 50 are now Charbonnel’s most devout consumers – though their pink champagne truffle sets hearts racing across the board. Charbonnel remain suspicious of new trends. Peter sniffs that while introducing a sea salt flavour was a “brave but unavoidable risk”, you’ll “never see us start to use chilli. It’s not for us, and others do it better.” They ought to know what works. Charbonnel sell chocolate at a breathtaking £75 per kilo, a staggering margin beyond any other company present today.

Chocolate is addictive. Once they enter the chocolate world, people tend to stick around. “It’s a good place to be,” muses Richard Reilly. “One thing I would emphasise is the importance of ethics, though. People get very hung up on the idea of organic. But the thing is, that’s all just a question of certification. Cocoa is grown in places that are organic by their very definition. If you’re willing to pay a little extra for chocolate, spend it on fair trade. Make sure people are paid fairly.”

The Joy of Teen Sex?

Posted on January 30, 2011 by Holly Thomas

America is not impressed. Teens are having sex, and MTV is doing f***all to discourage them. As if showing Miley Cyrus’s videos on an hourly rotation isn’t abominable enough (AOL has voted her the worst celebrity influence for the second year in a row – why such a poll was considered necessary, or how Taylor Momsen slipped through the net who knows), the channel is currently airing a brand-new US version of Skins, the cult UK TV show thanks to which youngsters all over Britain have been snorting cocaine and having barely legal lesbian sex after and (more likely) during school hours since 2007. American parents, advertisers and activists are protesting, claiming that the show exhibits child pornography and violates legal requirements to protect young viewers and the teen actors themselves.

In one sense, I sympathise. I feel like I can’t switch the TV on these days without catching a glimpse of sexually hyperbolic children. During last Wednesday’s episode of The Joy of Teen Sex the nation was treated to one youngster’s cringetastic first attempt to ‘go down’ on his girlfriend having just overcome his chronic fear of vaginas. Cue applause from the cameramen?

Now it’s not that long since I was a teen (those who saw my last column will know I cling to youth with a desperation to rival Dorian Gray). However, as a mildly antisocial specimen I wasn’t privy to what one might call the full spectrum of experience early on. I wasn’t (quite) a complete dork, but I was nevertheless more an Inbetweener than an Effy (see below – notorious and sorely missed UK Skins character seasons one through four – I will cool off the TV references soon I promise). When a friend recently told me that he “was getting head in year eight at the school disco, and was one of the later ones,” I was taken aback. I have a brother in year eight, perhaps why I found this particularly disturbing.

Left-right: Freddie, Effy, Cook and Panda- UK Skins gang seasons three and four

I remember a definite ‘awakening’ occurring during my mid-teens however. For example, I recall a year nine English lesson during which a friend and I compared what we’d done over the weekend. I had written an essay, ironically on Romeo and Juliet – an early parable about the potential hazards of teen sex. She’d given her boyfriend a blowjob during Shrek at the cinema. “WHY???” I gawped. “He wanted one,” she shrugged.

Obviously there had been various infamous events: “I heard she had an abortion when she was 12,” “they had sex on the beach during the year nine Isle Of Wight trip and TEACHERS FOUND THEM,” and house parties were, by year ten, synonymous with all manner of sexual hijinks. Still, I wasn’t quite prepared for this revelation from a hitherto very shy and retiring girl. But it was not an outrageously outlandish example, and rightly or wrongly, a good proportion of my year had swapped fluids by via one means or another by the time they sat their GCSES.

More recently, I was chatting with a 14-year-old girl when the question of BOYS came up. Ah, I thought, a chance to share the wisdom of years, perhaps help my young friend avoid some of the pitfalls into which I in my naïve youth had fallen. What was the problem, I asked? “Well my last boyfriend dumped me because I wouldn’t give him a blow job. It was kind of unfair, as I had ‘received’, but wasn’t ‘giving’, yano? I mean I’m not at all what you would call frigid, but I just didn’t fancy it. Also the guy I like smokes, and I used to LOADS but I quit a year ago and I really don’t want to start again, and I’m worried if I go out with him I will.”

I took a deep breath. Then I told her as tactfully as possible that her ex was an asshole she was best shot of, and that perhaps she might prove a healthy influence on the new guy and get him to quit smoking. The admittedly tenuous point is that the decisions and attitude she expressed to me in no way mirrored what she had seen on the box the previous night (she likes QI). Furthermore, she rightly stopped when she felt uncomfortable, and this can probably be attributed to her own resolve rather than abstinence from inappropriate television.

The argument I’m havng a semi-arsed attempt at making is that teens are going to have sex whether their parents like it or not. At least some of them. We should accept this, and as they say in The Joy of Teen Sex, the main thing is that it is safe and consensual. Though Skins might be amplifying the fantasies of the Inbetweeners crowd more aggressively than Glee (I lied about the reference thing), if parents are to complain, I’d argue that the smoking/narcotics-related element of proceedings is more worthy of their energy. I personally found the total departure from any attempt at a cohesive or engaging plot in last week’s episode infinitely more offensive than the frequent references to f***ing.

Obviously the second my brother goes anywhere near a girl with the intention of touching anything other than her hand I’ll be whacking a chastity belt on him faster than he can say ‘hypocrite’.

We love: Avril Lavigne's 'What The Hell'

Posted on January 13, 2011 by Holly Thomas

Avril Lavigne’s lastest nugget of angsty delight hit iTunes on Monday, and has already soared past Bruno Mars and Katy Perry to nab the No.2 spot behind Ms Spears’ ‘Hold It Against Me’. It’s the first single from her fourth studio album ‘Goodbye Lullaby’ (due March 8), and although we’re not quite hearing the promised evidence of a more mature Avril (it certainly doesn’t sound like the offering of a recent divorcée), it is undeniably, arrestingly catchy.

Despite her absence from the charts we’ve grown fonder of Avril over the last year or so. Mainly because we’re highly impressionable tweens at heart, and so when ‘Keep Holding On’ featured in Season One of Glee and then Cher Lloyd sang the crap out of ‘Girlfriend’ on X-Factor we were reminded of her in the most favourable light possible. And irritating though it can be when a woman in her mid twenties looks and sings like a 14-year-old (‘yeah’ & ‘woah’ are to Avril what ‘uh’ is to Britney), she does come up trumps when it comes to peppy, infectious girlypunk. You can try to resist, we say don’t bother.

Why we love What The Hell:

1. The lyrics. They’re just so darn sympathetic. Who among us hasn’t at times needed to “be a little crazy” and wanted nothing more than to “mess around”?

2. The barest, faintest, flicker of pain: “You can’t save me”, “You never call or listen to me anyway”. We’re imagining Avril in a Skins-type scenario, starved of affection from the one she truly loves, and therefore doing the natural thing, ie: put it recklessly about. “Yeah, I am messing with your head, When I’m messing with you in bed”- Effy anyone?

3. The tune. It’s VERY similar to Girlfriend. But we loved Girlfriend as well, so that’s fine.

4. The pure shamelessness of a 26 year old refusing to grow up . Obstinate, foolhardy party-pop, let it wash over you…

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Travel Jerusalem: A Modern Guide To An Ancient Wonder