When I travel, the thing that tends to endure in my brain are the bits of music that flow through the city. The first thing I noticed when I got in the cab with the man who did not speak a word of English was the english disco-pop music on the radio. So today when wandering the cobbled streets of the Old City, I stopped to listen to this young man and his violin. Standing in an archway, he was protected from the rain, the music was vibrant and resonant. The music cut through the rain, creating a wistful feeling to the old streets.
Here is a tiny, albeit inadequate, taste: