Sol counts us, then lopes off through the crowd, angling past the stalls of embroidered, mirrored dresses and cheap silver bracelets.
We follow him on sloping EI-Wad Street, and a young Palestinian skids past with a cartload of tennis shoes. He's attached an old tire to the back of the heavily laden cart, and he's standing on the rubber rim to slow his descent.
The tire brake doesn't work, however, and he flies past, holding white-knuckled to the wooden panels.
As he zooms by, Arab vendors jump aside, knocking askew their white headdresses and black bands. They shout angry Farsi after the young man, but he's going too fast to look back.
In the push of the crowd, we're shoved against the weave of hanging Persian carpets, and Megan puts her hand on one of red and blue with a pattern of pomegranates. "Look at this. Isn't this nice? Are these a good bargain, Sol?"
Sol shakes his head and turns his thumb down in rejection. "These carpets are the fakes. The real ones, the best ones is made by the Arab boys from six to eleven years old with the little fmgers to do the elaborate patterns."
"Children do the patterns for the rugs? I never heard of that."
"And by twelve or thirteen years old, the boys becomes blind."
He moves on. "This is the First Station of the Cross. The building is a school today, but in the time of Jesus it is the Praetorium, where the Roman soldiers is stationed. Pilate is in town from Caesarea for the holidays, and since Herod is wanting Jesus out of the way, Pilate is obliging. Here is the Chapel of the Flagellation and the Chapel of the Condemnation."
Life-sized statues of Jesus and Pilate 100m in Disney colors behind the chapel altar. Jesus is clad in vivid primary blue, Pilate in fire-engine red.
James takes pictures before we're hurried off to the Chapel of Ecce Homo. "Here the people is mocking Jesus and shouting 'Behold the man. '"
At every stop, in every niche, marble statues of Jesus stare down in agony. It's as if no sculptor could conceive of Jesus having triumph in a job well done or anticipation of a resurrection.
"Here is Station Three, where Jesus fITst is falling with the cross."
We file by.
"And here is Station Four, where Jesus and his mother is meeting. This is only tradition, of course. No meeting is in the New Testament."
For some reason the chapel here is called the Church of Our Lady of the Spasm, but we're rushed away before anyone can ask Sol why.
"Over there is Station Five. The street starts uphill here. It is the place Jesus gets help from Simon, the Cyrenian, who carries the cross for him."
The ascent is gentle, but the flagstones are as white and slick as polished bone, and struggling upward with anything would produce a terrible backache.
"Station Six, the Church of St. Veronica, is where Veronica comes out and wipes the blood and dirt from the face of Jesus. The handkerchief she is using to wipe the blood makes the imprint of the face of Jesus."
"Is Veronica's famous veil here in the church?" Elizabeth asks.
"Naw. It is too famous. The Christian churches don't leave it here to make money for the Arab quarter of Jerusalem. They take it to St. Peter's in Rome. There is Station Seven. Jesus falls the second time. Crosses is heavy."
He leads us to a narrow street packed with vendors of rubber sandals, boxed pink plastic dishes, and soft drinks. "This is Station Eight."He points to an even narrower alleyway. "But there is nothing to see."
Rory nonetheless ducks into the alley as Sol turns the comer beside a stall of brass hookahs with curling stems and brass coffee pots with spouts in the same brass curves.
"Where's Elizabeth?" James asks suddenly.
