Hello again from the Holy Land...
If I recall, my last stated itinerary included a trip to Ein Gedi then onto Nazareth... the best laid plans, blah blah blah... things took a bit of a u-turn when I decided to visit Ramallah after meeting a Christian organization at breakfast in Jerusalem... the EAPPI escort Palestinian children to school through Jewish settlements and military checkpoints.
The trip is now taking on a life of its own...
That day I had risen at 6am to visit the Dome on the Rock, the 3rd most important religious site in Islam, situated in the old city of Jerusalem.
Being delayed by my breakfast discussions (chatting with some accompaniment volunteers from the World Council of Churches), I arrived with only 15mins to explore the Dome on the Rock before returning to the hotel. Here is where my itinerary change... instead of heading direct to Ein Gedi and the dead sea, I headed for the West Bank and Ramallah passing the odd Jesus Christ and Moses on the way - I should explain that like any other big city, Jerusalem has its share of 'special' residents, in Jerusalem its called the Jerusalem Syndrome and they come in the form of folk with illusions of being a religious icon, with Jesus being the most popular, although I’m sure a bit more imagination could make this syndrome slightly more fruitful with the tourists, they generally just hang out and look, well, 'biblical'.
...onto the Arab bus station (which will become my hub for the next week), a bus trip to the Kalandia checkpoint and the most surreal walk through no mans land, the wall stretching out in both directions as far as the eye can see. On the lead up to the checkpoint and on the other side, commerce was in full force along the route of the 'wall' which surrounds the west bank and Jerusalem. A frantic scene and short bus journey later and I was in downtown Ramallah with the biggest culture shock I've experienced to date... ouch! Ramadan is in full swing which means there is food everywhere you look, but no eating or drinking taking place until sun-down as they observe Ramadan.
Tortured by the sun and the heat and after spending 3 or so hours chatting with the locals and the experience was beginning to take its toll on my senses - not knowing if I was safe or not at any moment in time, a lack of food and quickly becoming dehydrated - the intense! loud! But surprisingly friendly and welcoming experience had me on my heels by 2pm. Id decided to head back to Jerusalem to recharge... but, even after passing through the Kolandia checkpoint and upsetting the army personnel (who happen to look no older than my teenage nephew) with my camera, I was hungry for more... on arriving in Jerusalem I had the obligatory rushed lunch and moved on to the other Arab bus station towards Bethlehem for a whirlwind visit.
Bethlehem was nothing like I expected and disappointing at first, however it was only on my return I realized just what I had experienced...Bethlehem is a city under siege, desperate for tourists... but only patronized at Christmas by vast numbers of pilgrims, straining the locals who are understandably eager to meek out an income. Bethlehem was surprisingly quiet after experiencing the numbers of tourists in Jerusalem and the mass of people in the Market area of Ramallah. The plan was a mad dash tour of Sheppard's Fields, the church of the Nativity and the Milk Grotto and sundown at Bet Jal before dashing back to the Bethlehem checkpoint to return to Jerusalem before the evening Ramadan hush sets in - because the day is a fast, as soon as the sun goes down the streets come to a hush as 'everyone' returns to they homes to pray, feast and spend time with their families. Unfortunately I missed the last Cherooke (Arab minibus) back to Jerusalem so I spent the next hour hiking through the checkpoint to the Jerusalem/Hebron road in search of an Israeli bus.
An hour or two later I was back in the old city of Jerusalem to spend another night before the planned move onto Ein Gedi... the intent was travel to Ein Gedi by bus, but it was now Friday and the start of the Jewish Sabbat, meaning no busses I instead took an Arab Cherooke back to Tel Aviv to enjoy the beach and night life until I can move on again.
The Sabbat over, it was time to move on again... this time with an American student I met on the beach... intrigued by my experience of Ramallah and wanting to see the west bank for himself the plan was hatched - we should do the real West Bank!.... we headed to Jerusalem and onto Ein Gedi to visit the Dead Sea and wallow in mud and salt water. One night in the Ein Gedi Kibbutz, a soak in the sulphur and salt baths, a slew of photographs to provide the evidence and we headed back to Jerusalem where the real fun begins... a dash across town to try and beat the Ramadan hush and I was again on an Arab Cherooke towards the west bank via the Kolandia checkpoint.
First stop Ramallah, staying in an Arab hotel and feasting it up at the local Ramadan buffet, and spending the rest of the night drinking Arab beer (yes it exists and its good!), smoking a Hooker/Nagila/Shisha (that's a pipe, not a lady of the night), and arguing religious politics and the pros and cons of faith - my 20 something student is polar in views as I was at that age, I must have been a right pain in the ass! After being woken up at 3am by the first prayer call of the day and then at 7am by a sea of car horns and market carts, we ventured out and negotiated food in the back room of a hole in the wall... falafel for breakfast? yes please! :) after breakfast it was onto the PNA compound and careful negotiations to get a look inside the headquarters for the late Arafat and now Abaas. Negotiations were moderately successful with a peek inside but alas no photographs :( ...then a walk onto the East side of the compound for a visit to the grave of Arafat. This trip is beginning to take on an odd direction!
From here the trip took another turn. On a high of culture shock and disbelief, Jordan (the American student... keep up!) and I decided to keep moving on... so a hard decision later, my return flight to London was changed from Wed 12 to Monday 17 so we could travel onto Nablus to experience the real West Bank... with regret I cancelled my trip to Paris on 14th but this was an experience I don't think I will get again, any day soon.
... back at the Ramallah bus station and its onto Nablus, deep in the west bank and in a security zone administered by Hamaas and the PNA. The trip to Nablus, is north along dipping and winding roads, through a terraced mountainous landscape where olive production is the main industry. 2 checkpoints later we were at the final checkpoint for Nablus where we left the bus and walked towards the best preserved Arab city and culture on the West Bank. After being pulled aside by the teenage soldiers on the checkpoint and given grave warnings that whatever happens to us inside the checkpoint was of our own responsibility and help was unlikely to be afforded to us if required, we moved on... not without getting a few bizarre snapshots of the checkpoint teenager guards playing up to the camera as if on a Mediterranean package holiday. Undeterred, we travelled on, with the obligatory negotiation with cab drivers for the best fare price and hotel to spend the night... English is less common here and 'Americans' specifically or any outsiders really, are considered fair game for bolstering local incomes... Ramadan hush was on us again so finding a hotel and food was utmost on our minds.
In Nablus the first impressions was of a economically deprived city in a barren steeply sided valley with all manner of houses and apartment blocks in various states of construction and destruction. As the hush was now in full swing there was little in the way of any life except us and the rush to the hotel. After disappointment at finding a hotel that caters specifically for business men and westerners in general we settled down for the night, engaging in the routine gorge on food - man I like Ramadan...the great British sandwich lunch is going to be hard to take on my return.
Jordan was in his first west bank burn out, even after refusing to believe he would suffer the same exhaustion and shock I had experienced on my first Ramallah visit... he proceeded to sleep, then not sleep, in waves of exhaustion and wired aftershock. I spent the night in the hotel lounge meeting the locals in a surprisingly candid exchange of facts, ideas and views. The hotel is used by locals who 'date' women against traditional, religious and Hamaas instruction - it was the only place a Nablus Arab could discuss liberal views and operate out of the sight and earshot of the authorities. My favourite character was the Arab gentleman in his 40s or 50s, slightly rounded with the trademark Arab moustache and stubbled beard, slightly greying and oh so jolly... who’s only words of English were 'I love you'... after 3 'Nescafe' and 500 'I love you' later we proposed, married and then divorced... as he needed to get back to his family.
The same night I spent several hours talking to the hotel staff and hearing of their dreams of moving to Canada or France... or, if they would have them, Israel - no sign of resentment or anti-Zionist views here. I was very surprised to hear the talk of unity and peace which was not at all what I was expecting from Nablus. One story that stuck in my mind is that 'Hammid, the hotel receptionist was in Kuwait during the first Gulf War when his family fled to Palestine... he was 9 years old... on the way, he was separated from his family as they crossed a border bridge. He was taken in by a conservative Jewish couple who had no children of their own... Several days passed before Hammid's father located his son, at which point the Jewish couple offered to raise Hammid and provide the best life and education with visits to his family regularly- 'this child is a gift from god' are the words he remembered... Hammid's father refused the offer, but later in his teenage years Hammid would cast doubt on his father’s wisdom as he challenged the cultural and religious rules and tradition...as an example, Britney Spears is his favourite musical artist... I didn’t have the guts to ask him if he was gay :)
Anyway, as Jordan arose at midnight we rolled out the Hooker/Nagila/Shisha and puffed away with the locals, witnessing assassination by playing-cards and the punishment of losing - making coffee for all the guests for the next 24hrs. By 2am we were beat and hit our beds for some much needed rest, only to be awoken at 3am for our prayers.
The next morning (after a bit of a lay-in - students sleep a lot!) after walking the old city and market for an hour, being mobbed by kids on their way to school... they had a genuine innocence and excitement around digital cameras I’ve not witnessed outside the West Bank (this was not the first mobbing by kids... in Ramallah there was a similar incident where we were mobbed by excitable sprogs, clambering for the camera in an orgy of excitement), we decided to make our next stop of the day to the oldest operating Turkish baths in the West Bank, possibly in the Middle East...opened in 1840 and still fully operational today, we couldn’t miss out on a Michael Palin moment, so after asking a local for directions and being lead (in true Arab hospitality) through the streets of the old city right up to the door of the baths - at least a 10 to 15 min treck - we were at the torture chamber, I mean baths.
After confusion on which towel or sheet to use and which room in which order to enter we exchanged hand waving, grins and uncontrolled laughter and found ourselves in a steam room with no visibility beyond your nose. Then with much insistence we locked ourselves in - we have our own theories about the use of the lock - on the inside - I'll let you draw your own conclusions... 15mins later and a loud bang on the door we were lead out execution style to room 2 were we were ceremoniously doused with olive oil and tortured with a full body massage - possibly the most painful experience of my short life- and, with great shock a full neck adjustment - I thought for a moment we were mistaken for spies and were being bumped off in true James Bond style - with great relief I was still able to feel my limbs and walk, and surprising refreshed - although I found it hard to return to my rubber necking for the next 24hrs - and at 30NIS ($6) a lot cheaper than my Chiro in Toronto... Room 3 here we come and a scrub down by a large hairy Arab with a perma-grin... help mom!
About an hour or so after we entered we emerged into the lounge area where we were treated to the obligatory welcome drink for outsiders... at great privilege as the locals cannot eat or drink until sundown.
This is where we met another Hammid or Mohammed... the names are starting to sound the same. A BBC style interview and being 'sold' the Hamaas manifesto for about an hour (with Arabs lounging with heads on laps and holding hands) - with some inaccuracies or adaptations I might add... we arranged a meeting at the Nablus university with some of the students to hear their views. A quick dive through the streets of downtown Nablus and a short Cherooke ride later we were at the university with surprising amount of security.
We were escorted to the public relations department where we were subjected to some small talk to define our backgrounds by the public relations officer who broke the interview mid swing to pray - behind him on the wall was a martyr poster of his mother who was killed by Israeli military 2 years ago. We deduced I was born in the same town as Hammid/Mohammed - both of us born in Cardiff... small world. I was desperately trying to find the humanity beyond the politics and progressed on another BBC Hard Talk style of interview, with the odd leading question to encourage a left wing view or a humanist viewpoint (other than for the Palestinian Arabs)... I didn’t find what I was after and we made our excuses before we were in a hole too deep to climb out of by sundown.
We toured the university and met students to discuss the Israeli conflict and religion... this town is definitely radical but there was a definite air or schizophrenia of conspirator and prisoner among the students we spoke to. On one occasion, we were hustled out of the courtyard as a Hamaas student group marched through the university... we tried to arrange an talk but our guide looked more frightened than we did. It was now getting close to sundown and we needed to head back to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv... the obligatory stuffed taxi to the Nablus checkpoint - hundreds of students trying to get home for the weekend and the Ramadan feasts, crammed like cattle passing through turnstiles, made passing the checkpoint heaving going, but I hope rewarding with some photos - managed to avoid a gun pointed at me this time as I removed the flash from the camera - a bus and3 checkpoints later and we were back in Jerusalem... although now it was Yom Kippur and the streets of Jerusalem were closed and the weird custom of fasting and riding bikes was in full swing. Not prepared for a night in Jerusalem where there was no hope of stimuli or food... we headed over to East Jerusalem to the Arab districts, ate food and negotiated a cab ride back to Tel Aviv (Yom Kippur = no cars, no busses, no food, no nothing!) at an extortionate 250NIS ($50) -hehe- and 1.5 hours later, negotiating road blocks and checkpoints, we were back in a deserted Tel Aviv and reflected on the west bank.
At least 5 pounds lighter - was it the Dead Sea or the food? - and back in Tel Aviv for the last couple of days of sun, beer and $%*@. A bit of an anti climax after the rush of the past 4 days or so but it will give me time to even out my farmers tan before heading back to London and the real world.
So, barring any aviation incident I will be back in the big smoke by Monday lunch.
I started the trip with certain impressions of Israel and the conflicts... I went through a period of bias to the Palestinians and then to the Israelis, now I am back in no mans land like the majority of the western world, but now I have the facts and word from the people themselves.
If you’ve never visited Israel - Visit! If you’ve never visited the West Bank - Visit!
If I recall, my last stated itinerary included a trip to Ein Gedi then onto Nazareth... the best laid plans, blah blah blah... things took a bit of a u-turn when I decided to visit Ramallah after meeting a Christian organization at breakfast in Jerusalem... the EAPPI escort Palestinian children to school through Jewish settlements and military checkpoints.
The trip is now taking on a life of its own...
That day I had risen at 6am to visit the Dome on the Rock, the 3rd most important religious site in Islam, situated in the old city of Jerusalem.
Being delayed by my breakfast discussions (chatting with some accompaniment volunteers from the World Council of Churches), I arrived with only 15mins to explore the Dome on the Rock before returning to the hotel. Here is where my itinerary change... instead of heading direct to Ein Gedi and the dead sea, I headed for the West Bank and Ramallah passing the odd Jesus Christ and Moses on the way - I should explain that like any other big city, Jerusalem has its share of 'special' residents, in Jerusalem its called the Jerusalem Syndrome and they come in the form of folk with illusions of being a religious icon, with Jesus being the most popular, although I’m sure a bit more imagination could make this syndrome slightly more fruitful with the tourists, they generally just hang out and look, well, 'biblical'.
...onto the Arab bus station (which will become my hub for the next week), a bus trip to the Kalandia checkpoint and the most surreal walk through no mans land, the wall stretching out in both directions as far as the eye can see. On the lead up to the checkpoint and on the other side, commerce was in full force along the route of the 'wall' which surrounds the west bank and Jerusalem. A frantic scene and short bus journey later and I was in downtown Ramallah with the biggest culture shock I've experienced to date... ouch! Ramadan is in full swing which means there is food everywhere you look, but no eating or drinking taking place until sun-down as they observe Ramadan.
Tortured by the sun and the heat and after spending 3 or so hours chatting with the locals and the experience was beginning to take its toll on my senses - not knowing if I was safe or not at any moment in time, a lack of food and quickly becoming dehydrated - the intense! loud! But surprisingly friendly and welcoming experience had me on my heels by 2pm. Id decided to head back to Jerusalem to recharge... but, even after passing through the Kolandia checkpoint and upsetting the army personnel (who happen to look no older than my teenage nephew) with my camera, I was hungry for more... on arriving in Jerusalem I had the obligatory rushed lunch and moved on to the other Arab bus station towards Bethlehem for a whirlwind visit.
Bethlehem was nothing like I expected and disappointing at first, however it was only on my return I realized just what I had experienced...Bethlehem is a city under siege, desperate for tourists... but only patronized at Christmas by vast numbers of pilgrims, straining the locals who are understandably eager to meek out an income. Bethlehem was surprisingly quiet after experiencing the numbers of tourists in Jerusalem and the mass of people in the Market area of Ramallah. The plan was a mad dash tour of Sheppard's Fields, the church of the Nativity and the Milk Grotto and sundown at Bet Jal before dashing back to the Bethlehem checkpoint to return to Jerusalem before the evening Ramadan hush sets in - because the day is a fast, as soon as the sun goes down the streets come to a hush as 'everyone' returns to they homes to pray, feast and spend time with their families. Unfortunately I missed the last Cherooke (Arab minibus) back to Jerusalem so I spent the next hour hiking through the checkpoint to the Jerusalem/Hebron road in search of an Israeli bus.
An hour or two later I was back in the old city of Jerusalem to spend another night before the planned move onto Ein Gedi... the intent was travel to Ein Gedi by bus, but it was now Friday and the start of the Jewish Sabbat, meaning no busses I instead took an Arab Cherooke back to Tel Aviv to enjoy the beach and night life until I can move on again.
The Sabbat over, it was time to move on again... this time with an American student I met on the beach... intrigued by my experience of Ramallah and wanting to see the west bank for himself the plan was hatched - we should do the real West Bank!.... we headed to Jerusalem and onto Ein Gedi to visit the Dead Sea and wallow in mud and salt water. One night in the Ein Gedi Kibbutz, a soak in the sulphur and salt baths, a slew of photographs to provide the evidence and we headed back to Jerusalem where the real fun begins... a dash across town to try and beat the Ramadan hush and I was again on an Arab Cherooke towards the west bank via the Kolandia checkpoint.
First stop Ramallah, staying in an Arab hotel and feasting it up at the local Ramadan buffet, and spending the rest of the night drinking Arab beer (yes it exists and its good!), smoking a Hooker/Nagila/Shisha (that's a pipe, not a lady of the night), and arguing religious politics and the pros and cons of faith - my 20 something student is polar in views as I was at that age, I must have been a right pain in the ass! After being woken up at 3am by the first prayer call of the day and then at 7am by a sea of car horns and market carts, we ventured out and negotiated food in the back room of a hole in the wall... falafel for breakfast? yes please! :) after breakfast it was onto the PNA compound and careful negotiations to get a look inside the headquarters for the late Arafat and now Abaas. Negotiations were moderately successful with a peek inside but alas no photographs :( ...then a walk onto the East side of the compound for a visit to the grave of Arafat. This trip is beginning to take on an odd direction!
From here the trip took another turn. On a high of culture shock and disbelief, Jordan (the American student... keep up!) and I decided to keep moving on... so a hard decision later, my return flight to London was changed from Wed 12 to Monday 17 so we could travel onto Nablus to experience the real West Bank... with regret I cancelled my trip to Paris on 14th but this was an experience I don't think I will get again, any day soon.
... back at the Ramallah bus station and its onto Nablus, deep in the west bank and in a security zone administered by Hamaas and the PNA. The trip to Nablus, is north along dipping and winding roads, through a terraced mountainous landscape where olive production is the main industry. 2 checkpoints later we were at the final checkpoint for Nablus where we left the bus and walked towards the best preserved Arab city and culture on the West Bank. After being pulled aside by the teenage soldiers on the checkpoint and given grave warnings that whatever happens to us inside the checkpoint was of our own responsibility and help was unlikely to be afforded to us if required, we moved on... not without getting a few bizarre snapshots of the checkpoint teenager guards playing up to the camera as if on a Mediterranean package holiday. Undeterred, we travelled on, with the obligatory negotiation with cab drivers for the best fare price and hotel to spend the night... English is less common here and 'Americans' specifically or any outsiders really, are considered fair game for bolstering local incomes... Ramadan hush was on us again so finding a hotel and food was utmost on our minds.
In Nablus the first impressions was of a economically deprived city in a barren steeply sided valley with all manner of houses and apartment blocks in various states of construction and destruction. As the hush was now in full swing there was little in the way of any life except us and the rush to the hotel. After disappointment at finding a hotel that caters specifically for business men and westerners in general we settled down for the night, engaging in the routine gorge on food - man I like Ramadan...the great British sandwich lunch is going to be hard to take on my return.
Jordan was in his first west bank burn out, even after refusing to believe he would suffer the same exhaustion and shock I had experienced on my first Ramallah visit... he proceeded to sleep, then not sleep, in waves of exhaustion and wired aftershock. I spent the night in the hotel lounge meeting the locals in a surprisingly candid exchange of facts, ideas and views. The hotel is used by locals who 'date' women against traditional, religious and Hamaas instruction - it was the only place a Nablus Arab could discuss liberal views and operate out of the sight and earshot of the authorities. My favourite character was the Arab gentleman in his 40s or 50s, slightly rounded with the trademark Arab moustache and stubbled beard, slightly greying and oh so jolly... who’s only words of English were 'I love you'... after 3 'Nescafe' and 500 'I love you' later we proposed, married and then divorced... as he needed to get back to his family.
The same night I spent several hours talking to the hotel staff and hearing of their dreams of moving to Canada or France... or, if they would have them, Israel - no sign of resentment or anti-Zionist views here. I was very surprised to hear the talk of unity and peace which was not at all what I was expecting from Nablus. One story that stuck in my mind is that 'Hammid, the hotel receptionist was in Kuwait during the first Gulf War when his family fled to Palestine... he was 9 years old... on the way, he was separated from his family as they crossed a border bridge. He was taken in by a conservative Jewish couple who had no children of their own... Several days passed before Hammid's father located his son, at which point the Jewish couple offered to raise Hammid and provide the best life and education with visits to his family regularly- 'this child is a gift from god' are the words he remembered... Hammid's father refused the offer, but later in his teenage years Hammid would cast doubt on his father’s wisdom as he challenged the cultural and religious rules and tradition...as an example, Britney Spears is his favourite musical artist... I didn’t have the guts to ask him if he was gay :)
Anyway, as Jordan arose at midnight we rolled out the Hooker/Nagila/Shisha and puffed away with the locals, witnessing assassination by playing-cards and the punishment of losing - making coffee for all the guests for the next 24hrs. By 2am we were beat and hit our beds for some much needed rest, only to be awoken at 3am for our prayers.
The next morning (after a bit of a lay-in - students sleep a lot!) after walking the old city and market for an hour, being mobbed by kids on their way to school... they had a genuine innocence and excitement around digital cameras I’ve not witnessed outside the West Bank (this was not the first mobbing by kids... in Ramallah there was a similar incident where we were mobbed by excitable sprogs, clambering for the camera in an orgy of excitement), we decided to make our next stop of the day to the oldest operating Turkish baths in the West Bank, possibly in the Middle East...opened in 1840 and still fully operational today, we couldn’t miss out on a Michael Palin moment, so after asking a local for directions and being lead (in true Arab hospitality) through the streets of the old city right up to the door of the baths - at least a 10 to 15 min treck - we were at the torture chamber, I mean baths.
After confusion on which towel or sheet to use and which room in which order to enter we exchanged hand waving, grins and uncontrolled laughter and found ourselves in a steam room with no visibility beyond your nose. Then with much insistence we locked ourselves in - we have our own theories about the use of the lock - on the inside - I'll let you draw your own conclusions... 15mins later and a loud bang on the door we were lead out execution style to room 2 were we were ceremoniously doused with olive oil and tortured with a full body massage - possibly the most painful experience of my short life- and, with great shock a full neck adjustment - I thought for a moment we were mistaken for spies and were being bumped off in true James Bond style - with great relief I was still able to feel my limbs and walk, and surprising refreshed - although I found it hard to return to my rubber necking for the next 24hrs - and at 30NIS ($6) a lot cheaper than my Chiro in Toronto... Room 3 here we come and a scrub down by a large hairy Arab with a perma-grin... help mom!
About an hour or so after we entered we emerged into the lounge area where we were treated to the obligatory welcome drink for outsiders... at great privilege as the locals cannot eat or drink until sundown.
This is where we met another Hammid or Mohammed... the names are starting to sound the same. A BBC style interview and being 'sold' the Hamaas manifesto for about an hour (with Arabs lounging with heads on laps and holding hands) - with some inaccuracies or adaptations I might add... we arranged a meeting at the Nablus university with some of the students to hear their views. A quick dive through the streets of downtown Nablus and a short Cherooke ride later we were at the university with surprising amount of security.
We were escorted to the public relations department where we were subjected to some small talk to define our backgrounds by the public relations officer who broke the interview mid swing to pray - behind him on the wall was a martyr poster of his mother who was killed by Israeli military 2 years ago. We deduced I was born in the same town as Hammid/Mohammed - both of us born in Cardiff... small world. I was desperately trying to find the humanity beyond the politics and progressed on another BBC Hard Talk style of interview, with the odd leading question to encourage a left wing view or a humanist viewpoint (other than for the Palestinian Arabs)... I didn’t find what I was after and we made our excuses before we were in a hole too deep to climb out of by sundown.
We toured the university and met students to discuss the Israeli conflict and religion... this town is definitely radical but there was a definite air or schizophrenia of conspirator and prisoner among the students we spoke to. On one occasion, we were hustled out of the courtyard as a Hamaas student group marched through the university... we tried to arrange an talk but our guide looked more frightened than we did. It was now getting close to sundown and we needed to head back to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv... the obligatory stuffed taxi to the Nablus checkpoint - hundreds of students trying to get home for the weekend and the Ramadan feasts, crammed like cattle passing through turnstiles, made passing the checkpoint heaving going, but I hope rewarding with some photos - managed to avoid a gun pointed at me this time as I removed the flash from the camera - a bus and3 checkpoints later and we were back in Jerusalem... although now it was Yom Kippur and the streets of Jerusalem were closed and the weird custom of fasting and riding bikes was in full swing. Not prepared for a night in Jerusalem where there was no hope of stimuli or food... we headed over to East Jerusalem to the Arab districts, ate food and negotiated a cab ride back to Tel Aviv (Yom Kippur = no cars, no busses, no food, no nothing!) at an extortionate 250NIS ($50) -hehe- and 1.5 hours later, negotiating road blocks and checkpoints, we were back in a deserted Tel Aviv and reflected on the west bank.
At least 5 pounds lighter - was it the Dead Sea or the food? - and back in Tel Aviv for the last couple of days of sun, beer and $%*@. A bit of an anti climax after the rush of the past 4 days or so but it will give me time to even out my farmers tan before heading back to London and the real world.
So, barring any aviation incident I will be back in the big smoke by Monday lunch.
I started the trip with certain impressions of Israel and the conflicts... I went through a period of bias to the Palestinians and then to the Israelis, now I am back in no mans land like the majority of the western world, but now I have the facts and word from the people themselves.
If you’ve never visited Israel - Visit! If you’ve never visited the West Bank - Visit!
