It's the previous evening. Our Israeli guide, Avital, winds up Hebron Road and deposits my husband and me and our friend Elinor at the Mt. Zion Hotel. Commanding magnificent views of the old city and beyond, the 1880 property, once an eye hospital, has undergone many permutations and now encompasses six floors that descend the hillside to a large swimming pool. We enter the airy lobby and are quite taken by its views and Moroccan-inspired décor. In the soft evening light, we set out to explore the surrounding area. The views of the Hinnom Valley and the Mount of Olives are quite dramatic and we can almost make out Mt. Scopus in the distance. Nearby historic sites include the Gardens of Gethsemane, Dormition Abbey, and what is traditionally regarded as King's David's tomb. Not far down the hill is Oskar Schindler's grave. The German industrialist, regarded as the world's most righteous among gentiles and forever memorialized by Spielberg's film, specifically asked to be buried here. We pause outside a large cinematheque where several dozen high-spirited youths have gathered, chattering non-stop over their ice cream cones. Across the road is the much-visited Menachim Begin Center, dedicated to the life and contributions of Israel's sixth prime minister. A former commander of the violent, paramilitary right wing organization known as Irgun which finally swore its allegiance to the IDF, Begin signed a peace treaty with Anwar Sadat of Egypt in 1979. "Wow," says Elinor. "Every inch of land here has enormous significance!"

Avital has the day off, so the three of us start out mid-morning to explore the Old City on our own, heading downhill to Jaffa Gate. Jerusalem's limestone walls date from the Ottoman Era and are renowned for their golden color that has mellowed over the centuries. We make our way into the bustling Armenian Quarter, crowded with many wonderful shops. Straight ahead an antique store lures us in with its window display of color maps. Its affable proprietor sizes us up instantly and heads to a back room, returning minutes later with an assortment of rare 19th century maps depicting the twelve tribes of Israel. They are all exceptional and we quickly choose one to take home. The shop is abuzz with international customers. I listen in amazement as the owner switches from English to French to Arabic, Italian, German and even Swedish. "Have you noticed how adept many Arabs are with languages?" I remark to my husband. "Indeed, they put us Americans to shame," he concurs. A good portent for more shopping ahead, I decide.
   

   
We turn right toward the Jewish Quarter, walking on the former Roman Cardo, built after the final destruction of Jerusalem in 70 CE when the city was renamed Aelia Capitolina by Emperor Hadrian. There is restoration work going on in all directions. Old Byzantine Corinthian columns are left in situ alongside new shops brimming with tourist merchandise. We pause to admire four Sephardic synagogues that have been meticulously restored. Dating from the Muslim Period, they display an amazing stash of ritual objects rescued from Italy during the Holocaust. The twice-destroyed Hurva Synagogue, traditionally regarded the most beautiful in all of Israel, has been rebuilt in its orginal style, affording breathtaking views of the Old City and beyond from atop its dome. The Kotel--the Western Wall of Herod's Temple--will be the highlight of our tour with Avital tomorrow.

At a family-run Greek restaurant near the historic Church of St. John the Baptist, we dive into a salad topped with imported Metsovo feta and a side of crispy zucchini fritters. The Old City is full of culinary delights, I decide, as we continue our foray into the Arab Quarter. Time has stood still among the serpentine lanes of this large, rambling sector thronging with shoppers. Several robed women, their hair covered with scarves, are sitting right on the stepped pavement, selling mounds of greens grown in their home villages. An aromatic Arab pastry shop straight ahead beckons with round slabs of knafeh, a confection that originated in Nablus on the West Bank in the 10th century. We stop to sample it. Made with thick filo dough layered with ricotta cheese and bathed in syrup with a sprinkling of chopped pistachios, it is a sweet that rivals the best the world has to offer. "Right now I can't imagine anything better than this," my husband sighs as he devours his portion. We continue toward Damascus Gate, the largest and most elaborate entrance to the Old City. Today the gate area has been transformed to an open-air market, crowded with customers haggling spiritedly at improvised shoe and clothing stalls.
   

    
Ten minutes from Jaffa Gate, just outside the city walls, is Jerusalem's historic King David Hotel. It was the brainchild of Ezra Mosseri, a wealthy Egyptian-Jewish banker who wanted to build a world-class property that would be adjacent to the Old City and also blend in with the local architecture. It remains an elegant hostelry to this very day, still rivaling several high-end properties that have been built in the last couple of decades. Constructed of local stone, the King David is "the place" that leaders and celebrities from around the globe always flock to. A marble stripe on the ground floor is inscribed with reproduced signatures of all the dignitaries who have stayed at the property--from Anwar Sadat and and Haile Selassie to Queen Elizabeth, Richard Nixon, Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. We survey the list as we head toward a magnificent terrace and pool overlooking Jerusalem's burnished stones. A bellhop notices our interest, commenting: "It was here that King Hussein signed the peace treaty between Jordan and Israel. Many very important meetings have taken place at the hotel over the years."

Not far from the hotel is Jerusalem's iconic Montefiore Windmill. Dating from the Ottoman era, the mill was financed by British philanthropist Moses Montefiore who wanted to create a means for local Jewish settlers to become more self-sufficient. "All the mechanical parts for the mill were shipped from England to Jaffa and then arrived in Jerusalem transported by a team of camels," my husband chuckles, having read extensively about the structure. We can almost envision the scene. "By the way, the mill was barely put into use," he adds. "Its mechanical components were designed for English wheat and did not process local wheat efficiently. But it immediately added a lot of character to the Yemin Moshe neighborhood here. These days the windmill serves as a venue for art exhibitions and even has a nightly sound and light show." I remember reading somewhere that the government has future plans to redo all the mechanics to make it function properly, and when that happens, it will be the sole working windmill in all of Israel!

Facing the King David Hotel is the imposing Jerusalem YMCA, the creation of Arthur Loomis Harmon, an American architect who also designed the Empire State Building. The structure is fronted by a dozen cypress trees meant to represent the 12 tribes of Israel. Forty columns in the courtyard allude to the 40 years the Hebrews spent wandering in the desert in the Exodus story as well as the temptations foisted upon Jesus by the devil during his ramblings in the Judean desert. The architecture itself is an altruistic homage to Judaism, Christianity and Islam and the structure is an amalgamation of styles meant to be all-inclusive. "Upon the completion of the YMCA, it was hoped that it would be a place of peace where political and religious jealousies could be put aside and international unity fostered. Too bad this sentiment never materialized," sighs Elinor as we head into the dining room. The menu has an institutional quality, but the dining room is one of the few places open for meals on Saturdays. "You should climb up the 192 steps to the top of the tower," our waiter suggests. "The view is incredible and on a clear day you can see the mountains in Jordan!"
   

    
The parking lot at Qumran is located near the northwest shore of the Dead Sea. The site is operated by Israel's Nature and Parks Authority even though it is officially in Palestinian territory. Qumran gained international notoriety when a young Bedouin shepherd entered a long-forgotten cave, having thrown a stone after a goat that had wandered inside. He heard a shattering sound and came upon a tall clay pot shielding a hoard of ancient scrolls. The discovery convulsed the world of bible study. The hoard quickly became known as the Dead Sea Scrolls, carefully preserved, analyzed and then displayed at Jerusalem's Shrine of the Book Museum. Eventually, some 900 scrolls were discovered in eleven additional caves. Most were mere fragments, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. But a few were more intact. To this very day the origin of the scrolls has yet to be fully ascertained. Were they written in Jerusalem and hidden away in desert caves for safekeeping during the uprising against the Romans? Or were they the original work of the Essenes, an ascetic cult that lived near the caves in a remote outpost, operating under strict communal practices, and whose beliefs may have made an impression on Jesus during his desert wanderings? "There is a lot of speculation when it comes to the Essenes," Avital explains. "Some scholars say they represent the 'border line' between Judaism and early Christianity. Others believe that they are simply the historical fabrication of Josephus and Pliny. Was Jesus trained by the Essenes? We can only speculate. The cult had its own esoteric rules for daily life." We watch a visitor's film that explains the rituals and activities of the Essenes, shows their dining hall, their kitchen and nearby boneyard where no porcine bones were found, their ten ritual baths and a very special writing room with inkwells. "The Dead Sea Scrolls have become my special obsession," my husband admits to Avital and Elinor. "It's a thrill to actually see where it all began!"

We have two free days to explore Jerusalem on our own before leaving on a journey to northern Israel to be followed by four days in Jordan. "You can get to Yad Vashem by bus, but a taxi would be quicker," they tell us at the desk. One pulls up in front of the Mt. Zion in no time. The Iraqi-born driver speaks enough English to make himself understood and heads to the hills of West Jerusalem through Rehavia. My parents lived not far from here in Nachlaot after their kibbutz life. If only these old stones could talk, I think, wishing I knew more about their time here. In 1969 we toured the original Yad Vashem Memorial Museum, dedicated to the victims of the holocaust. I remember walking through The Avenue of the Righteous among Gentiles honoring the brave souls who risked their lives to rescue Jews. Today we will be visiting the award-winning new museum, designed by the renowned Israeli architect Moshe Safdie. I am especially excited to see his creation since he also designed the Skirball Cultural Center in LA where I am a docent.

Yad Vashem sits on the slopes of the Mount of Remembrance, cantilevered on two sides. It opened in 2005 and has since attracted millions of visitors. Shaped like a prism penetrating the mountain, its bold architecture sets the stage for a harrowing visitor experience inside. A range of multimedia exhibits includes films, photos and many personal objects that were found in the ghettos and concentration camps. Photographs are only permitted by special application and we wander through each section in respectful silence. There are nine interactive galleries that convey the unspeakable horrors of the holocaust via films, photos, documents, and items left behind in the camps. As we near the exit, a soundtrack breaks into the Hatikvah. All the emotion that I had managed to suppress as I walked past each gut-wrenching segment is suddenly released, and a non-stop stream of tears trails down my face. I look at the faces of some other visitors. All are equally moved. We continue to a The Hall of Remembrance, a cone-shaped memorial lined with hundreds of photos of actual holocaust victims. It is positioned atop a lower cone dug out of the rock base and filled with water that reflects their faces. The entire Yad Vashem campus is enormous, comprising a wide range of research and visitor facilities. Our time here has been emotionally draining and we gratefully pile into a taxi to return to the hotel for naps.

By early evening we are starved. The desk recommends Eucalyptus, a restaurant on Felt Alley near Zion Gate that is considered one of Jerusalem's best. It is the creation of celebrity chef Moshe Basson, the winner of several food competitions who is renowned for creative cuisine based on local and regional produce as well as unusual fish and meat dishes. He is also a food folklorist known to glean the hills around Jerusalem for nettles and wild greens. Son Ronny, also a chef, greets us warmly, handing us their extensive menu. It's nearly impossible to choose, but we zero in on a buttery barramundi fish served with smoked green risotto and salmon sashimi with wasabi and shaved nettles. The restaurant is also famous for its exquisite ceviche and fish shawarma with fire-roasted eggplant. "This is a meal for the ages," Elinor exults. "We have nothing quite like this in England and in my opinion chef Basson even outranks Yottam Ottolenghi!" As we head uphill to the hotel, I suddenly remember that on the occasion of Israel's 50th anniversary celebration in Washington, D.C., Basson was one of several Israeli chefs invited to cook at a gala at the Kennedy Center. We continue to our hotel in a food coma, but with huge smiles on our faces.
    

    
It is decidedly hotter the next morning. With water bottles at hand, we start out early toward the Tower of David Citadel that houses a museum dedicated to the history of Jerusalem. "The name is misleading," says our docent, a former New Jersey resident who has made Jerusalem her permanent home. "This fortress actually dates from the Crusader era." She leads us inside where a number of imaginative tableaux showcase the history of the city over the centuries, from its beginning as a Canaanite settlement all the way to the modern era. We pause by a scene depicting the Assyrian siege of Jerusalem, when King Sennarcherib attacked the city, but failed to capture it. Each and every tableau is a creative visualization of important moments in the city's convoluted history.

After the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD, the area below its southern wall was covered by an avalanche of stones. Today the site is the location for Jerusalem's official Archaeological Headquarters, The Davidson Center. The area is in continuous flux as more excavations take place and new finds are identified. Hundreds of thousands of cubic meters of earth have been removed to date and a few of its numerous findings even date back to Solomon's time. We enter the museum area and join a group of visitors, paying rapt attention to a guide who providing an introduction to the site. A group of noisy teenagers completely drown out his voice. "Sheket Bvakasha, (quiet please)," I admonish them, totally surprised to have erupted in the Hebrew of my childhood. "I think your Hebrew is locked up somewhere in your brain," my husband comments. "Perhaps a hypnotist could help release it," he posits.

Many days later, after returning from Jordan, our exploration of Jerusalem begins anew. It's delightful to stroll through the recently opened Mamilla Mall, another of Safdie's creations, with upscale boutiques and cafes lining its stone walkway just northwest of Jaffa Gate. Safdie brilliantly blended a few original buildings into his design and used masonry block stones for the project, creating a timeless quality that ties into the architecture of the Old City. Not far away, on the Ben Yehuda pedestrian mall, we sample one of Jerusalem's most popular falafel joints, Noshiko. It does not disappoint. The area is packed with tourists and a couple of dozen residents from the ultra-orthodox Mea She'Arim neighborhood who come to shop at Ben Yehuda's numerous Judaica shops. A short taxi ride away, Mahane Yehuda is Jerusalem's historic food market also known as "The Shuk" and a feast for the senses. It's especially fun to watch well-practiced matrons haggle non-stop with the merchants, a skill they been honing for decades. There area also plenty of copycat tourists who bravely try their hand at bartering, but with far less success.
    

    
Our final day in Jerusalem is a Saturday, and taxis and busses are not operating. We head out on a long serpentine walk toward Givat Ram in West Jerusalem and the city's Parliament building known as "The Knesset." Being Shabbat, it is closed to visitors. However, its iconic landmark, an enormous bronze menorah located at the edge of Wohl Rose Park, can be seen. Positioned opposite the building, it is the work of Benno Elkan, a Jewish sculptor who escaped from Nazi Germany to Britain before the onset of World War II. The menorah was a special gift from the British Parliament in 1956 to mark the eighth anniversary of Israel's founding. "Each of the menorah's branches depicts many important moments in the history of the Jewish people, such as receiving the Ten Commandments and the Warsaw uprising," I explain. "The Menorah sure looks like the one that stood inside the Temple in Jerusalem. The center candle must be the most important," my husband observes. "You are right," I reply. "That candle is inscribed with the 'Shema--Hear O Israel Prayer' that conveys Judaism's monotheistic essence."

On our seemingly endless walk back to the Old City, a solitary taxi operated by an Arab in search of customers stops to ask us if we need a ride. "You bet," an exhausted Elinor sighs happily. He drops us off at the YMCA per our request because we know it is open for meals on Saturday. The familiar menu includes a variety of fresh salads and their own house-made bread. Good enough, we decide, grateful that we can grab a bite in mid-afternoon while the rest of the city is still in Sabbath mode.

"Our time in Israel sure has gone by in a flash," Elinor sighs wistfully. A sherut taxi, ordered by the desk and bound for Ben Gurion Airport, pulls up in front of the hotel in plenty of time to make our late afternoon flights. Somehow, we are the only customers today. Our driver is super friendly and knowledgeable, sharing little-known factoids about the government, the Intifada, and the successes of Israel's high tech industry as he speeds along the highway. At the airport, we take our place behind a long line of passengers going through security check. "I see that you are a Sabra," says the youthful inspector. "Did you enjoy your visit?" I nod enthusiastically. "Did anyone give you any packages to take on the plane? "Did you visit any Arab villages on the West Bank?" "Of course not," I reply. "OK, we will now x-ray your suitcase," he continues. "What is this round object inside?" the x-ray attendant asks. I explain that it is a bubble-wrapped ceramic platter purchased in the Armenian Quarter. The same routine is repeated for Elinor and my husband. Satisfied that we are not shielding any hidden bombs or weapons, the inspector breaks into a smile: "You may now proceed. After you check in your luggage, keep an eye on your handbag and any items you may buy in our gift shops. We are taking extra precautions these days."

At the airport's well-stocked music shop, we select several CDs by Ofra Haza and by Israel's first lady of song and poetry, Naomi Shemer. The purchase is a perfect bookend to the time spent in my birth city, I conclude, since our visit began with the music of "Jerusalem of Gold!"