Yom Kippur; as it is known in Hebrew is the holiest day of the year for religious Jews. From the picturesque sunset on Sunday night till darkness approached on Monday night, observant Jews did not eat or drink, and observed all traditions pertaining to Shabbat.
Roaming the empty streets, I was wondering what in the world had happened to the Jerusalem I had come to know. Not a single car was present on the normally noisy streets, and even the entrance to the usually maddening loud Jaffa Gate of the Old City became a hush.
Due to cultural sensitivities, I restrained myself from taking my camera out for the day. As no buses were running, I took a long leisurely stroll from Mount Scopus to the Western Wall where hundreds of people dressed in white were gathered to mark the end of the 25-hour fast.
Conveniently, the clock went back an hour just two days prior to give the appearance of a shorter fast.
It really wasn’t.
But come 8 o’clock, there were throngs of people everywhere that were eating too much, drinking too much and celebrating the end of the Day of Atonement. After a massive dinner at a restaurant in the Christian quarter in the Old City, I jumped in a cab and made my way home.
Till next year I suppose, till next year…