I traveled to Israel with my dad in 2014 and we started our road trip with a short drive from Tel-Aviv to Jerusalem. After a few hours of hauling our bags around, while searching for a hostel to stay in, we were ready to give up and sleep in the car. As we were leaving the old city to start up our search again, my dad recalled a woman he stayed with a few years back.

Claire lives in the Armenian section of Jerusalem. If you don’t know, the old city of Jerusalem is broken up into four quarters; Armenian, Christian, Jewish, and Muslim. Claire is Christian Armenian and owns a two-story home that she rents out with her son. She doesn’t advertise and she hardly exclaims that she offers housing. So, it’s a privilege to be able to stay with her. Another fun fact about the old city is that it is a maze. All the passages twist and spiral, so it is very easy to get lost or mixed up. It’s especially easy to find yourself in another quarter as well. When my dad visited a few years back he met Claire and stayed with her, so he kind of had an idea of where she lived. We wandered around as he was recalling certain turns or signs he saw last time he was there. After a few incidences of getting lost, we found Claire’s door.

I rang the bell with no answer and tried a few more times before we decided to give up. As we were walking away a small, petite, and elderly woman called out to us. It was Claire, who remembered my dad by the way. With a heavy Armenian accent, she explained to us that she was watching us through the newly installed camera. She spoke quickly, but with prominence as she unlocked the door. We negotiated the price, listened to the rules, and were led to our room. The first two nights are not the stories I’ll be sharing, but the night we got to stay in a room in her own home.

After driving around Israel for a few weeks, we decided to stay with Claire for two of our last nights. I had gotten sick and was extremely cold from the rain. I won’t lie, I was miserable and unhappy. I had three blankets, but no heat and in a home made out of stone. So, it wasn’t very warm to begin with. I won’t go on, but things got worse, like a cold shower in winter and a father who kept stealing all of my blankets. I’m embarrassed, but I finally had enough and complained to Claire, unsure of what she could do. On our second night, my dad complained for me and Claire shared her secret closet. Yes, a secret closet. She brought me to a hidden door that was locked and the things inside made me cry. Literally. She had two electric heaters, extra blankets and pillows, plus a lot of chocolate candy. She told me she never shared these with guests, but knew I was sick and let me use one of the heaters and eat all the chocolate I wanted. I have never slept better in my entire life and that’s the truth!

The following day we set off to Tel-Aviv and stayed at a hostel closer to the airport. Later that evening I realized I lost one of my favorite necklaces. One that is very close to my heart. I had no idea where it was, but my dad told me to check with Claire. I used the hostel owners phone to call and she told me she had it. At about 10 p.m. I begged my dad to drive me back to Jerusalem. Once there he dropped me off and I ran as fast as I could, as I found my way back to that golden door. Claire led me to her room and under her pillow she kept my necklace and a pair of earrings. She told me that she wanted to keep them safe for me incase I came back and so she kept them as close as she could. After that I needed a photo with her for my photographed memories. She spent about five minutes searching for her comb and urged me to take a photo in front of her television, which she is very proud of. It isn’t the greatest, but it is one of my favorites. A lot of people wouldn’t have kept it and they definitely wouldn’t have kept something like a necklace under their pillow, especially for a stranger. Claire did and I will forever be indebted to her for that.