Jerusalem continued

So let me continue my story from where I left off while my buttocks were suffering. Geraldine and I had just come back from Al Pasha, a middle eastern food place in Jerusalem. Assad deposited us back at Jaffa Gate where our ghetto hostel was. Little did we know just how ghetto is was going to be.              

We has dropped by earlier in the day to drop some of our stuff in the room and take some pictures of the cool view from the upper levels of the hostel (see below--the Dome of the Rock is just hidden by the building on the right). Staying in the Old City, I figured the ghetto-ness would be a fair trade for such a cool experience. 

So we arrive back around 11:30pm and Geraldine goes back up to the private room that we booked while I stay in the common area on the main floor to use the WiFi and my laptop to retain what little connection I have to the rest of the world. I follow her up a few minutes later t find the door open all the lights off and Gerladine sprawled dejected on the bed. Or at least I think she was sprawled and dejected on the bed. The lights were out, so I couldn't tell. I go to flip on the lights and she announces to me that they aren't working. 

This can't be true, I thought. No way. Not happening. 

I run down and try to find someone that works there or call someone who can put the power back on, but to no avail. The workers had gone home, the pay phone wasn't working, and the hot guy from Paris didn't have a cell phone I could use. I raced to think of the way out--how we could fix this, but it was too late to find another place, the power box was locked shut, and we had no way of contacting the people that worked at the hostel. Geraldine comes down soon and, completely exhausted and a little irritable, we realized to our horror the truths of the moment:  and we were going to have to suffer through the burning hot night with no power and in a sketchy place. 

This is how people die. Or get raped. It's like we were in the first 30 minutes of a scary film. This is where the unsuspecting innocent girls expect fun-loving adventure and instead due to chance and bad luck are placed at the mercy of a psychopathic killer. I could practically hear the creepy music beginning.

We slept with the door open most of the night, which was most awkward for me because anyone who walked by saw only me lying on the bed, while Geraldine was hidden from view. But I was past caring. It was either be exposed to the world or die of over-heating. I chose being exposed.

By the next morning, our anger at the establishment was more muted and we left in reasonably good spirits before the workers arrived at noon or whenever they decided to show up and do their job (that was probably, according to Geraldine, a very American thing to say). I did leave a note on an envelope I found behind the desk detailing our discontent with their establishment. I wanted to say that unless they "want both toe-curling reviews on every website advertising their hostel that would insure that no normal human being stays there again and it to be my personal mission to destroy them," they should refund us the money. But instead, I watered it down considerably and some diplomatic crap like "should you wish to remedy the situation and improve our feelings towards our experience at you establishment..."

I still haven't heard from them. I'm already drafting the most awful reveiw humanly possible. Several actually. I will review their hostel as many times as it takes. As different people. With different experiences. Cockroaches crawling from the shower drain, sewage backing up, serial killers, Islamist terrorists hiding out--I have a few ideas. All I can say is they messed with the sleeping habits of the wrong person.

Maybe I have become a little scary...

Our bathroom. My favorite was a sign above the toilet that said: "Please do not flush tampons, pads or TOILET PAPER down the toilet. Please put them in the trash."

We didn't entirely comply.
The master deluxe private suite at the Jaffa Gate Hostel. 
Okay, so as promised, the camel picture. Assad had taken us to a place where one could get a different view of the Old City. We got their and while Geraldine, awed by the veiw, discussed it with Assad near the ledge, I was mesmerized by the massive camel just hanging out. I take a few pictures when a young American guy comes up to me and asks me to take his picture with it. He said they normally charge for pictures, but the guy with the camel was out cold, snoring in the corner. So we shot a few pics. On the left side of my head, you can see the Dome of the Rock and in the bottom left, you see the Arab Sleeping Beauty. His rest would soon be interrupted when his boss comes and starts yelling at him for sleeping while we were freely taking pictures and playing with his camel. Poor guy.
Completely unrelated picture, but I wanted to post it. Last weekend I went to the Bah'ai Gardens in Haifa and it was amazing. Absolutely breathtaking and the people were real gems. Very calm peaceful people. I love the Bah'ai. 
This is my last blog from the Aroma Cafe on Rehov Sokolov. My parents and my sister V arrive tomorrow morning at O'Dark Hundred (5:30am) and so I'll be all over the place for the next couple weeks traveling. I go to Petra on Thursday and I have to admit, I'm pretty pumped. I hope I get to ride a camel.