I got inked at a tattoo parlor in Jerusalem that uses a 700-year-old technique I'd never seen before. Here's what it was like.

I'm a big fan of body art and I have nearly a dozen tattoos already. So when I heard about Razzouk Tattoo in Jerusalem, Israel, I knew I had to visit. The parlor has been operated by the same family since the 1300s, its current owner, Wassim Razzouk, told me.

For centuries, their ancient method of tattooing, using hand-carved stamps, has drawn visitors to the Holy City, including members of the band OneRepublic.

Last month, I joined the ranks of people who have sought out the shop to get inked.

The Razzouks are Coptic Christians, a religious sect that originated in Egypt. They began tattooing other Christians in the 1300s as a way for the devout to identify themselves, a practice that began long before, according to the Coptic Church of Archangel Michael and St. Tekla.

"In Egypt, they used to do little Christian tattoos like the Coptic cross on the wrist as a way of Christians marking themselves for Jesus," Wassim told me.

Their business has existed in many different forms over the years, Wassim told Insider. When they first started, the Razzouks would tattoo people in churches' courtyards, and their current storefront didn't come until much later.

As the family's story goes, Wassim said their ancestors settled in Jerusalem after pilgrimage from Egypt. They brought their stenciling technique to Jerusalem, which had a similar practice of inking pilgrims "as a way to mark that they've made it to the holy land," he said.

Unlike other tattoo shops I've visited, Razzouk Tattoo uses hand-carved stamps to create their tattoos. Each one is carved into a wooden block as part of a stenciling technique that originated in Egypt, Wassim said.

He told me that the stamp on the left was created 200 years ago, while the lion stencil is about 400 years old.

Originally, the family had more than 140 designs, but only about 80 are in the shop right now. The rest have been lost, are with other family members, or have found their way to other tattoo shops or museums, he said.

Guests can choose to bring in their own ideas for custom tattoos, or they can choose from the shop's dozens of different stamps, I learned from the process.

Each of the centuries-old stencils, I was told, has a religious motif that span Judaism and Christianity.

The images depict scenes from Christ's baptism to his resurrection, and plenty of symbolic events in between, Wassim said.

In October, with my dad along for moral support, my mom and I headed to Razzouk Tattoo, located just inside the walls of Jerusalem's bustling old city.

At the walls of the old city, Jerusalem's traffic-jammed, boutique-lined streets give way to narrow, cobblestone lanes dotted with souvenir shops and fresh juice stands.

When we arrived at the shop, I was struck by just how small and how busy it was. No bigger than my roughly 1,000-square-foot New York City apartment, the shop was filled with tattoo artists, guests, and curious potential customers.

Though my mom and I made appointments about a month in advance, we saw people schedule appointments for the following day, as well as walk-ins.

Each tattoo studio I've been to over the years, from Montana to New York, has been strictly no-nonsense. There are few platitudes, little small talk, and no dilly-dallying. After signing consent forms and waivers, it's off to the tattooing table.

I found it was nearly the exact same process at Razzouk Tattoo, minus one thing: the consent forms and waivers. Like most places offering body-modification services, in my experience, tattoo parlors make you sign all kinds of paperwork saying you're legally old enough to get a tattoo and that you won't sue them if something goes wrong.

Not so at Razzouk.

I'm not sure as to the reasoning why, but while the lack of forms was a bit alarming to me at first, I remembered I was in another country with different rules and also thought it was kind of nice to skip all the paperwork.

I was shocked by how quickly we began. With no paperwork to fill out or guests ahead of us, we got started just a few minutes after we arrived for our 5 p.m. appointment.

In the moments before we were ushered back to get inked, we flipped through binders filled with the stamp designs. I pored over the books, fascinated by the stencils' history.

I'd been scouring the shop's Instagram page for months, so I already knew the designs I wanted, while my mom had brought her own idea. After a few minutes of admiring the stamps, we were whisked back to start tattooing.

While I thought an olive branch and a lion would look cool permanently etched onto my body, I was mostly interested in their aesthetic appeal, and didn't know their significance. With a tinge of embarrassment, I had the employees explain them to me.

The lion, which I had tattooed on my tricep, is the Lion of Judah, which is a symbol of a tribe of the same name that's referenced in both Judaism and Christianity.

The olive branch, another employee said, is a symbol of hope and love that's seen throughout many of Razzouk Tattoo's stamps.

The cost, pain level, and healing process were just about identical to other tattoos I've gotten in the states.

I paid $170 total for both pieces, each of which are about an inch in size. They hurt like any other tattoo, and took the same amount of time to heal — about two weeks.

If you're looking for a calm, tidy environment for your first tattoo with consent forms, safety and procedure explanations, and extensive aftercare instructions, I would look elsewhere.

But if you want a once-in-a-lifetime experience and a tattoo with one hell of a story, then I think this is the place for you.

From the hand-done tattoo a friend gave me during an undergrad party to tattoos that are dedicated to my parents, each of my pieces of body art has a story, with something meaningful or memorable assigned to it.

But now, having a part of history stamped onto my body is a certificate of my travels that can never be lost or stolen — and that's exactly what Wassim said is so special about it.

"It's not just any tattoo you can get anywhere else in the world," Wassim told me. "It's different. It's a tattoo that comes with heritage — the heritage of the Holy Land, of the pilgrims, and of our family."