Hellish Real Estate

Real estate agents are the same everywhere. They're always trying to talk up a property by telling you about all the rich and famous people who live in the neighborhood. Only in Jerusalem, this takes on a surreal air. I found my realtor saying things like: "Why, John the Baptist lived right down the road." Or: "That's the well where the Virgin Mary washed her feet." And then the realtor would procced to show me a house with New York prices whose antique plumbing probably dates back to the days when Mary couldn't find a decent shower.
The apartment I finally chose is part of an old house with stone floors and high arched windows looking out, through a sloping olive grove, to the spires and minarets of the old walled city. One drawback: it seems to be perilously close to the Valley of Hinnom where --and this is something my realtor really should have mentioned-- the Gates of Hell are supposed to open up on Judgement Day. "At least we can cut down on our heating bills," I lamely joked to my wife.
Living on the edge of Hell attracts strange neighbors. I googled our street and came up with a woman who calls herself "Mary, an Endtime Handmaiden". She's probably no good for borrowing a cup of sugar, but an Endtime Handmaiden who speaks English could prove handy, I suppose, for an assist if the fiery gates yawn open. I make a mental note: Must introduce myself immediately, given how ghastly the Middle East news is turning.
by Tim McGirk/Jerusalem