ISRAEL: At the Old City, breathing it in

Jerusalem’s Old City offers a feast of iconic sights (the Dome of the Rock and Western Wall, for example) and evocative sounds (the pealing church bells and chanting calls to Muslim prayer). But the cramped stone alleys are also rich for how they smell--for the variety of scents, from burning incense to ground cardamom, that tell you a lot about the Old City’s many roles as holy spot, tourist destination and ordinary residential neighborhood.

Just step inside Jaffa Gate, past the row of taxis, where a pushcart is loaded with oblong rings of a sesame-topped bread, known in Hebrew as beigale and Arabic as ka’ak, that smell fresh-baked. Follow the slippery stone walk as it slopes gently past souvenir shops tight on both sides, the fresh-leather scent of sandals for sale disappearing behind a vendor’s cigarette smoke.

Head toward the heart of the Christian Quarter. An old-fashioned barber shop, its towels drying on a rack outside, emits the scent of after-shave lotion. That gives way around the corner to the fruity aroma of water-pipe smoke, thick and sweet in the air as half a dozen men on plastic chairs pass the time outside a café.

Move on, and it’s the smell of frying falafel that dominates a sunny courtyard near the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, a key destination for Christian pilgrims. Inside the church, the air is an arid blend of burning candles and incense. Back outdoors in the direction of the Muslim Quarter, a candy stall gives off a hint of citrus.

Nearby, the scent of cardamom—a spice used in Middle Eastern coffee and cooking and to me the signature fragrance of the Old City—emerges strongest from the open jars of spices arrayed at a tiny shop. Continue on and breathe in the sticky aroma of a pastry shop. Smell the earth clinging to fresh-dug root vegetables at a produce store. But move quickly past the stench of sewage passing beneath the stone pavement.

Near a stretch of butcher shops, exhaust pours from one of the miniature tractors that ferry supplies and merchandise along the Old City’s narrow lanes. The exhaust helps smother the cloying tang of hanging slabs of meat and pails of entrails. A vendor cuts onions nearby. A few paces farther along, a vinegary smell wafts from bins of pickled eggplant and cauliflower. It is delicious, and no pretty postcard can capture it. 

— Ken Ellingwood in Jerusalem