Jerusalem Jeweler – The Friends That Solo Travel Can Find – Part I

I have found that when locals spot you traveling alone, they are sometimes inspired to gravitate toward you. Solo travelers are, by the nature of our all-alone status, more approachable than people moving about in pairs or groups.

Here’s the begininng of a tale of a sort of friendship that formed with one man in Jerusalem’s Old City, a getting-to-know-you that I’m sure never would have occured if I hadn’t been traveling alone. I originally posted this elsewhere as one long story, but think it’s worthy of a second life, so I’ve broken it into two shorter pieces here. More exists to the story, so I may just write Part III later. I really like this tale.

Wandering around and around and around the labyrinth that is the massive souk in the Old City section of Jerusalem on my first solo trip here just over a year and a half ago, I inevitably became severely familiar with the sales techniques of the shop owners. 

In little shops smashed up against each other on the jam-packed stone streets, their jewelry, bolts of cloth, sandals, sweets and pigs hanging upside down were each enticing in their own way, but the proprietors’ methods of getting my attention were all the same. “Madam, you come into my shop?” was the typical pitch, with an arm swinging elegantly open towards the shopkeeper’s door.  “Hello, what is your name?  Where are you from?   Hey, hey, I’m talking to you!” was another. 

All were polite, but the rat-a-tat-tat of their invitations grew so tiresome.  I learned to manage the souk by walking the streets saying “no, thank you, no, thank you” virtually non-stop in the direction from which came any sound of a man’s voice with a question mark at the end of it.

Then, my final day in Jerusalem, a man sitting in front of a jewelry shop sang out to me a fresh tune. “Excuse me, can you please do me a favor?”  Surprised, I turned to give him my attention.  “Can you show me how to write in perfect English ‘Grand Opening Sale’?”  Happy to help, I walked into this man’s jewelry shop, where he set a black pen and a glossy piece of paper on his glass showcase.  I carefully spelled out the words he wanted. 

“Oh, thank you so much,” he smiled.  “You have done something for me.  Now, I do something for you.” 

Oh, no.  Now I understood what was happening.  He had verbally pulled me into his shop and now was going to try to make money off of me.  He was slick enough to talk me into sitting down in the back with him, where he began to craft a pair of turquoise-colored stone earrings for me. 

Joseph's Earrings

“Really, I can’t buy them,” I said.  “Please don’t spend too much of your time.” 

“No, no,” he replied.  “You helped me.  Now I will make something to thank you.” 

We began to talk.  Joseph was his name, he said.  Joseph was a very nice man.  And just so clever.  He got up and opened a display case.  From it he pulled a turquoise-colored necklace and placed it around my neck. No pressure, he assured me.  He just wanted me to see how it complimented my eyes and the earrings he was crafting for me.  A true salesman, he found a commonality with me – we’ve both lived in Germany and speak some German.  He kept the conversation flowing on topics large and small until, a half an hour later, he finished the earrings and handed them to me with a smile. The earrings are a gift, he repeated.  The stunning stone necklace was not.  It was a lot of Shekels.  So many Shekels that my memory can’t count that high. 

Only if you want it, he said.  I held onto the ground I’d entered his shop on.  I was not buying.  He began to negotiate the price down.  I offered to buy the earrings instead.  “No, no, no,” he insisted.  “I told you I would make those for you.”  After several minutes of extreme haggling, we were both beginning to emotionally melt, and his smile had turned downward.  The Friday call to worship had begun blasting from the Temple Mount through the streets, and he had to go pray.  So I took off.

As I made my way down the stone steps that led out of the souk, I heard a voice calling. “Miss?  Miss?”  I turned to find Joseph walking quickly down the hill, same genuinely crestfallen face.  My sunglasses were in his hand. “You left these behind.”  This had turned out to be an almost heartbreakingly-prolonged interaction with this man. 

“Thank you,” I said, taking the sunglasses quickly so I could end this.  He turned and walked back up the small hill, and I headed to exit in the direction of Damascus Gate.

Back at my hotel later, I began packing and thought of Joseph.  I should have insisted he take something for the earrings, I now knew for certain.  I had messed up, at least in a small way, a really nice guy.  Now I had to leave Israel and didn’t have the opportunity to correct the situation.  I vowed to myself that if ever I saw Joseph again in my life, I would buy a pair of earrings from him to make it right.

Thumbnail necklace photo by Sarah and Michael