Sol arrives at ten after five, and when he stops the van at the door for me, he asks what I liked best in the museum. I don't tell him about the crucifixion wing after all and tell him I can't decide what was most intriguing.
But as the van crawls through five 0' clock rush-hour and we're stalled beside a white stucco wall festooned with the omnipresent bougainvillea, I look at the tissue-paper plant and realize the flower doesn't look like a flower at all but like a leaf that's pink rather than green.
And I decide that perhaps most intriguing is the fact that here in the Holy Land nothing is what it seems at first glance.
