When I heard we would be in Turkey, I begged kindly asked the husband if I could hop over and visit my sister who lives in Jerusalem (it's only a 2 hour flight.) After Turkey the husband took off back to KL while I hopped on over to Jerusalem, actually Jordan and then crossed the border into Palestine. 

It was going to be short and sweet, only 5 days to spend with my older sister who I hardly ever get to see. I needed to make the most of it. 

As soon as I arrived we grabbed a bite to eat and headed to one of the three most holiest places for Muslims, the Dome of The Rock. Praying here is said to be multiplied into the thousands. 

So pray hard I did.

We ate our full of shewerma sandwiches, felafel, hummus, mint lemonade, knafa, tormos, Japanese peanuts, roasted hazelnuts, and homemade crepes.

We had a glorious lunch at a seaside restaurant, shopped the antique market, walked on the beach, and picked seashells. 

We visited Ramallah, bought spices, scarves, and freshly made pita bread.

And on my final day, with a heavy heart,  I made my way to my grandmother's house. My grandmother passed away two years ago. She is the only living grandparent I have ever known. She loved me more than I could have ever showen her. Every visit I have ever made in the past to Jerusalem was solely to visit her. So not having her there, was difficult to say the least.  I wanted to grab some pictures of her home. The front steps that she used to sit on are some of my earliest childhood memories. Her front door, that seemed to be just as stubborn as its owner. And of course the windows that wrap around the veranda that she religiously occupied. Anytime I think of her, the image of her sitting in the veranda looking out the window always, always comes to mind. I dared to peek through the blinds and look into the veranda that for as long as I could remember have always been full of plants, vines growing on the walls like a jungle.
The sight of it empty, took my breath away.

I miss her dearly.