"Our feet are standing in your gates, O Jerusalem." (Psalm 122: 2)

Yes, I have arrived, moved in, and, this afternoon, tired, the wind coming up, fog blowing in (fog? from where?), and the light fading, my heart was warmed at the thought of "coming home." Still feel, however, like I'm in some thing of a space warp, twisting Balinese Hinduism, Israeli Judaism, and Arab Islam into the space of a couple days.

This morning I went into the Old City, through the Jaffa Gate. What a rush.

While I spent most of my day lost (I have since bought a compass), I found my first destination with no problem -- a small recessed roof area in the grounds of the Porat Yosef Yeshiva overlooking the Western Wall and up to the Dome of the Rock. I spent a fair piece of time here just soaking up the view and convincing myself that I am here.
It was noon time and the 8 and 9 year old kids at the yeshiva school were kicking a soccer ball around (watched carefully by two armed school guards). At one point a number of them ran over to the railing to have a spitting contest, stealing each other's yamlkes and tugging prayer strings. Kids, regardless of where they are!

From here I went back down to the streets and was almost immediately lost in the maze of twisting, narrow passages. I stopped for coffee in one of those covered, cobblestone Roman-era streets -- thick, sweet, and with fresh basil! I discovered a good use for cigarettes -- offer them to old Arab men. Instant friends. They talked nonstop, weaving tales of God knows what. I didn't understand a word of it, just nodded and sipped my coffee.

Later, somewhere in the Muslim Quarter, I passed a small hole in the wall (literally) outside of which an old man was cooking kebabs. The smell was awesome.

Several steps away I turned and went back.

I gestured to my nose saying it smelt good. In Arabic he invited me into his restaurant, a small space half the size of my office, where I was immediately welcomed by half a dozen men sitting at one of the two tables. One of the men spoke English.

More coffee, declarations that this was the best restaurant in all of Jerusalem and the best kebabs in all of the Arab world and it wasn't long before a huge plate full of lamb kebabs, onions and tomatoes were on the table along with pita, humus, yogurt and spices. What a feast as we all dug in with our hands!

"What do you think of our politics?" I froze, stifled a choke, my life passing before my mind's eye. "A mess," I said. "What is the solution?" Well, did I get a crash course in Middle East politics! More kebabs. More coffee.

I left with a half dozen new friends and an invitation to come back tomorrow. I think the invitation had more to do with me picking up the "tab" -- 50 shekels well spent.

It is good to be here.