Category Archives: Monday Travel Posts

Today would be a good day to walk the streets of the Old City of Jerusalem

August 17, 2015Monday Travel Postsfaith, Israel, Jerusalem, Old City, peace, streets, Travelmelindacousins

I’ve realised that in my Monday travel reflections, I have actually been avoiding writing about some of my very favourite places to visit, because it is so hard to capture in a few words and images why I love them so much. One such place is Jerusalem. Definitely one of my favourite places in the world, I’ve been there on four different trips and I certainly plan to go back again in the future. In particular, today I’m thinking how lovely it would be to walk through the stone streets of the Old City. I won’t be able to capture all I love about it, but I’d like to at least make a start!

What do I love about the Old City streets?

I love the beautiful Jerusalem sandstones themselves. If stones could talk … what tales they could tell! And yet, silent as they are, they testify to the creativity and ingenuity of those who have come before, and to the inevitable passage of time.

I love the history. Imagining all those who have walked these streets before me. Allowing stories from ancient and more modern times come to life in the place where they actually happened.

I love the layers. The remnants of ruined houses from the Roman era frozen in time beneath the pavement.

Walking through the tunnel built by Hezekiah that lies beneath the foundations of the city itself.

The archaeological excavations of sites where Jesus visited and spoke.

The jumble of streets with steps and twists and corners and hidden delights.

Walking on the rooftops with their paradoxical mix of satellite dishes and ancient stones.

I love the walls. Walking atop the city wall, circumnavigating the city just as David, Nehemiah and so many others have done before.

The ancient Israelite wall unearthed below the current street.

The Western Wall. The remnants of the glorious Temple of Herod, a place for prayer and contemplation every day …

… and for an amazing celebration to welcome in the Sabbath evening.

I love the markets. The hustle and bustle of shopkeepers selling artefacts and trinkets and the foods of a number of different cultures.

And getting up early enough to walk through the streets before the shops open and the tourists descend.

And I love seeing people’s faith in practice. Orthodox Jews mingling with Israeli soldiers, seeking ways to respect their shared traditions.

Muslims gathered to study in the grounds of the Dome of the Rock.

Christian pilgrims walking the Via Dolorosa, following the footsteps of the crucified Lord Jesus.

What have I learned from walking the Old City streets?

There is an incredible richness of tradition and history and faith in this city. A sacred place for the three of the world’s major religions, it has been a place of incredible prayer and devotion.

Of course it has also been a place of terrible conflict and strife. As an outsider, the complex combination of historical experiences and current politics makes it hard to see how this can ever truly be a city of peace.

And yet … in the Old City itself, people of different cultures, languages and faiths work and live side by side. Ordinary people seeking to live their lives, even as the currents of world politics and religion swirl around them. They remind me once again of the common humanity we all share.

While as a Christian I believe that the story of Jerusalem (along with all other stories) ultimately finds its fulfilment in Jesus, I acknowledge that I can learn so much from people of other faiths and practices. I remember my own “good Samaritan story” – when I twisted my ankle quite badly one Friday morning on the uneven steps outside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The Christian pilgrims swarmed past me oblivious, the Israeli police paid me no heed, and the first Muslim shopkeeper I asked for assistance was afraid of compromising his faith by touching me on his holy day. Another Muslim stall-holder came to my aid, providing me with a cane and helping me hobble up the street to where I was staying. He told me why the first man had been reluctant to help, but that he believed helping someone in need was more important than following religious rules. I shared with him that Jesus told a beautiful story that very much said the same thing.

Psalm 122 calls its readers to pray for the peace of Jerusalem. Is that because this city more so than any other needs peace? Perhaps. But it is also because this city was for the psalmist the place where the living God had revealed His very presence. The prayer was that His true shalom might be known as it radiated out from Himself and His people. In Jesus, God has revealed Himself once and for all to all people everywhere. No longer do we need to go to Jerusalem to meet with God. But I still pray that this place, so dear to the heart of His people throughout the ages, would continue to be a place where the hope of peace and wholeness that He brings may be experienced more and more.

Today would be a good day to visit the Eiffel Tower

June 22, 2015Monday Travel Postsbeauty, Eiffel Tower, France, Paris, perspective, Travel, viewsmelindacousins

There are few buildings in the world more instantly recognisable, more iconic, than La tour Eiffel.

It doesn’t matter if it is summer or winter, day or night, twilight or sunset, it’s a beautiful place to visit.

Seeing it on the horizon instantly reminds you that you are in Paris, with all the emotions and possibilities that city’s name conjures up.

It is the most visited tourist attraction in the world.

And yet it was originally intended to be only a temporary structure after its design was criticised as a blight on the city’s skyline.

It remains – 126 years later – as a testimony to the fact that we cannot always imagine what something will be until it is fully realised and appreciated over time.

What do I love about the Eiffel Tower?

The views.

Oh, the views.

The views of it …

… the views from it,

… the views through it,

… and the views within it.

The Eiffel Tower gives the opportunity to see Paris from so many different perspectives.

To look down and watch the world go by.

To look around and see the other architectural delights of this incredible city.

To look across and imagine the hidden treasures waiting to be discovered in neighbourhoods on the horizon.

What have I learned from the Eiffel Tower?

The tower, built for a World Fair, is named after its designer and so it reminds me of the limitless possibilities of human ingenuity and creativity.

But at 324 metres, the Eiffel Tower is nowhere near the tallest structure in the world today, yet it continues to be the most visited. And so it reminds me that you don’t have to look like the biggest or the brightest to capture the world’s imagination.

This structure has also witnessed history. For four years a Nazi flag flew at its top as the city was under occupation. Apparently Hitler ordered the tower to be destroyed in August 1944 but the order was defied and the French Tricolore raised again on August 25.

Most of all, trying to capture this iconic structure in photographs is an exercise in looking at the same thing from different perspectives.

Depending on the time of day (or year), where you are standing, and how you choose to tilt you head, it can look so recognisable and yet ever so slightly unique.

Today it challenges me once again to consider how a small change in my perspective can help me to see things in a completely new way.

And perhaps you too might be surprised by the beauty and imagination you can find when you look at even the most familiar things from a new angle.

Today would be a good day to be in a village in Malawi

May 11, 2015Culture, Faith, Monday Travel PostsCharity, foreign aid, generosity, Hospitality, Malawi, Poverty, Travel, village, wealthmelindacousins

It’s time for another Monday travel post from me, talking about somewhere in the world I have visited and why I would like to be back there today. One of my goals in travelling has been to challenge the way I see the world and its people, to remind myself that the way I live is not the way everyone lives, and to consider what it means to be a global citizen, and in particular, one of the wealthiest 1% of global citizens.

And so one of my goals in sharing these travel posts is to challenge those who read them likewise. To challenge your perceptions of people and places around the world, and to challenge you in how you respond to your place amongst them.

Today, I’m thinking about a rural village I visited in Malawi. I’m not going to name it, and I’m trying to be very careful about which photos I share, because I am conscious of how easy it is for someone like me with access to this kind of platform to unthinkingly exploit those who do not have the same voice or opportunity I have to share their own stories. I want to be very careful because I know that I do not fully understand their stories, and I do not want to do them an injustice by misrepresenting them. I certainly don’t want you to feel sorry for them. But I do want to remind myself, and hopefully you, that there is much for us to learn from their stories, and to be challenged by, once we realise the privilege and power we don’t even recognise we have compared to them.

What did I love about this village in Malawi?

The hospitality and welcome of the people to an outsider like me.

Their willingness to share so freely what they have, not realising that their generosity with the relatively little they have puts me to shame when I think about all I have and yet how tightly I can hold onto it.

The food (or some of it)! Although I find nsima (maize porridge) itself a bit stodgy and tasteless, I am amazed at the flavour that can be brought to the relishes eaten with it with a few simple ingredients. My favourite was futali, a sweet potato and peanut dish that tastes so much better than I could have imagined combining those two things could.

The landscape. Wide open spaces, fresh air, glorious sunsets, a blanket of stars at night.

What did I learn from this village in Malawi?

The significant reminder that the way I live is not how most of the world lives. The stark reality of the fact that my life is privileged in a way that most people will never comprehend.

The everyday realities of living in a place where the average income is around $2 a day and more than 1 in 10 adults are HIV positive.

The babies room at the village orphanage – heartbreaking

The huge difference a small investment of foreign aid can make, and the exponential difference people willing to live in this place and walk day by day with the community can make.

The simple provision of a water pump like this has the potential to change lives by reducing disease or allowing girls to go to school instead of cart water long distances

And most of all, that too many of the maxims my society seems to unthinkingly live by are actually lies. Having more does not make you happier. Waiting until you feel you have all you need to give does not make you more generous. Having a beautifully presented home does not make you more hospitable. Wealth is not the deserved reward for hard work. And saying “charity begins at home” does not absolve us from responsibility to care about people in other places, but rather calls us to extend the love and mercy we have learned in caring for our families to those most in need, however far away they may be.

As my government prepares to hand down its budget this week, with predicted cuts coming out of our already depleted foreign aid giving, this challenges me greatly today.

Thinking Out Loud …

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