I used to love to walk on Emek Refaim. No matter the weather, it was the best part of my day. I could find myself imagining the street from any time in the past, and everyone was there. Maybe some ghosts on their way to Babylonian exile or maybe on their way back, maybe some German Templars or Armenian Christians, maybe some stylish Arabs in their fancy houses. Maybe I’m in the present, and I can hear the English-speakers, French-speakers, and even Hebrew-speakers sitting in cafes solving the world’s problems.

Lately, I can’t face it. Some of the trees are preserved, but too many are gone. There are gaping holes in the street, and the dry exposed dirt creates so much dust they had to install misting sprinklers just so people can breathe. Trying to walk on Emek Refaim now is taking your life into your hands to avoid all the giant rumbling earth-moving equipment. Cars and pedestrians try to navigate confusing detours around obstacles that look like the city’s infrastructure was turned inside out.

Today the only ghostly specters you see are the people walking through this wasteland in horror and dismay, saddened by this destruction calling itself construction.

I forget how the road was a month ago, but I remember it from the Crusader era, for example. (Excuse me, this fell. Is it yours? This stone? Not this, this fell nine hundred years ago.)                 Yehuda Amichai, “Damascus Gate in Jerusalem

I forget how the road was a month ago, but I remember it from the Crusader era, for example.

(Excuse me, this fell. Is it yours? This stone? Not this, this fell nine hundred years ago.)

                Yehuda Amichai, “Damascus Gate in Jerusalem

I’m not naïve. I know all the arguments about improving the city and increasing business, convenience for tourists, and property values, of course. I know change is inevitable. I’ve seen pictures of Jerusalem throughout the years; the urban development........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)