Duct Tape, Ideas and Paradigms

A boy, not much older than sixteen swept up and down the aisle of the bus, checking passports and eying everyone suspiciously, trying desperately to not look as nervous as he did. When he reached the last third of the bus and came across three American girls, his eyes flashed briefly with panic and it made me ridiculously nervous. The situation in Bethlehem had just begun to escalate to the point of protests and gunfire as we left the town only twenty minutes prior. To say the air was fraught with tension would be putting things very mildly. And when I saw the checkpoint patrol kid's gun, my insides went all ping pong ball-ish and agitated, but I tried with my might to retain my cool, to not become the problem.

You see, the gun he cradled tensely in his arms wasn't quite up-to-snuff. Every soldier we'd seen in Israel up to that point had been polished, precise, professional and beautifully put together. But THIS particular boy, who I must assume was not an Israeli soldier, but rather a Palestinian soldier/representative of the West Bank at the West Bank/Israeli checkpoint outside of Jerusalem, near Bethlehem, was carrying a gun patched together haphazardly with silver duct tape. He wore no uniform. He looked as though he hadn't had a day of training in his life Nothing felt official about this supposed official, except the fact that he had a gun, and I didn't. And in this particular situation, that felt like a very dangerous thing.

If you were carrying a machine gun patched together with duct tape, wouldn't you be nervous as well? Wouldn't you be praying, with every bit of every part of your body that nothing would happen on that bus, that no one would make you need to raise that questionably functional gun and defend your border/self?

What exactly was he defending? I'm not certain. There is a set of rules for who can enter Jerusalem that is seemingly ridiculous, but actually specifically targets the greatest threats to the city: Israeli/Palestinian men between adolescence and the age of forty. The boy was in the West Bank, not Israel proper. So, what exactly was the point of that checkpoint? Was the boy defending Israeli territory from Palestinian insurgents? I would be lying if I said I understand the complexities of Israel. All I can tell you is that in that moment my life lay in the hands of a nervous teenager with a janky gun.

Normally I have photos to accompany my posts. But normally I don't have a nervous teenager with a patched-up gun making life and death decisions about me and my companions hovering over me.

It was one of those moments when you first say a silent prayer, and then take stock of your life and perhaps re-evaluate your decision-making paradigm; the same paradigm that had led me to that point, of being in Israel during a war. Of hearing rockets being fired at Jerusalem, toward ME as I lay in bed in a convent in the Old City. Of flying into the city where bombs were falling and actively killing people.

Two minutes later the boy climbed out of the bus and we drove off, back into Israeli territory, leaving behind Bethlehem and the West Bank. And we FELT safe again, whatever that feels like. Because it's only a feeling, safety. It's only an IDEA, like lanes of traffic on the freeway.

But that feeling is pretty important.

The Bethlehem/Jerusalem security checkpoint

photo from: http://nzconservative.blogspot.com/2011/01/trip-to-bethlehem.html

On Choosing the Right Taxi Driver, Part 2

As our day in Bethlehem began to wind down, our driver, Al'a, happily obliged us with a couple of "extra" stops to places he'd mentioned to us during the day: An olive wood carving factory, a spice shop (where he purchased each of us a packet of seasoning to make chicken schwarma at home) and the Palestinian border wall.

Looking at that wall, I couldn't help but reflect on another wall I've seen of the same sort, perhaps you've heard of it, The Berlin Wall. Berlin's wall is now "fallen," it's remnants now serve as a reminder, a piece of painful history.

Perhaps the Israeli/Palestinian border wall IS the best option for now. I couldn't say with any kind of authority, or even a well-educated guess. But my gut tells me that any wall of the type isn't good. It made my soul weep to see it. And as we sat there, parked on a street looking down at the wall from the West Bank side, Al'a pretty much summed up what I was feeling:

“This is not the way to make peace,” he motioned to the wall in front of us. “This killing of children and families and making a wall."

Only several hours before, a Palestinian family in Gaza had been brutally killed. Al'a pulled up news photos of the bodies on his phone and showed them to us, photos we would never see in Western media.


We stared somberly at the wall, thinking, reflecting, mourning for that family and suddenly gunfire rang out. Staccatto machine gun shots pierced the silence. We looked to our driver, "It is the protests. Over the killings."

"We need to leave, now." I replied, nodding my head at Al'a in acknowledgement of both the killings and the danger of us staying any longer.

We zipped precisely around the hilly streets and came to a sudden halt at a military blockade that had been erected in the past hour, blocking our route to the bus stop. We three travelers watched as Al'a looked questioningly at the soldiers, all young men and women, so very young! One soldier standing in the middle of the street, brandishing a large gun motioned us nearer and when we were within earshot, he began screaming at us in his native tongue. Al'a's healthy brown complexion paled and he reversed the car quickly and turned us around, taking us back the way we'd come, having to traverse up and around mountainside to circle back to the bus stop.

"If you tourists had not been in my car," said he, "the soldier would have killed me. He screamed at me, 'why are you so stupid? Can't you see the way is closed?' These soldiers are crazy!"

One of our group asked, "Why would our being with you make such a difference?"

"Because you are Westerners. No one wants this. Our situation is bad enough already. If you were to be harmed, it would be very bad for the news, very bad for Israel."

When we arrived at the bus stop, there was no bus to be seen, but large groups of angry people were beginning to form, and soldiers and police had taken up positions opposite them.

Instead of waiting for the bus, Al'a turned the car around and drove us up the street, stopping in front of a pastry shoppe. "This is a very famous palestinian sweet shop. During busy times of year, people line up out of the door for these things. It is very good!" Several shopkeepers ushered us in and seated us, and Al'a ordered us each several things, honey-drenched flaky pastries filled with nuts and cheeses. One dish, Knaffa was the house special.

As I looked anxiously at the door, Al'a said, “Don't worry. If there is problem, I will take you home. My wife will feed you more sweet.”

We ate until we could eat nothing else, and then Al'a received the "all clear" from a boy who had been standing outside, watching for the bus.

We said our goodbyes in a hurry and boarded the bus. As we drove away through the city streets, we could better see the extent of the gathering crowds and soldiers. We left Bethlehem unscathed, we were very lucky, very blessed to have found the driver we did. I will always remember the kind heart and the goodness of Al'a.

On Choosing the Right Taxi Driver, Part 1

Bethlehem is not a place I'd planned on visiting while in Israel. Why not, you ask? After all, it was the birthplace of Christ, and it is only a few short miles from Jerusalem.

Well, there's this wall. Build to separate Israeli and Palestinian territories. It starts just outside of Jerusalem and goes for miles. It's tall. Really tall. And sure, you can cross into Palestinian territory and go into Jerusalem, but in times of war, and there was a war going on in November during my trip! (If you recall, Israel was firing rockets daily into Gaza, and Hamas fired back into Israeli territory, including firing a rocket at Jerusalem!) In times like those, you literally take your life into your own hands crossing that border. It's dangerous, crossing into the West Bank or Gaza.

So off we went, from Old Jerusalem, after receiving strict instructions from the lovely Israeli woman at the front desk:

"You walk to Damascus gate. Turn left. There is the bus depot. Take bus 21 to Bethlehem. It will cost 7,30 Shekels. Turn right after you get off the bus and walk 20 minutes to the manger church. Try not to act like Americans."

Right.

And so it came to pass that two of us were dubbed Swedish, the other French or Irish, for the purpose of our trip to Bethlehem. (The middle east seems to bring out my Swedish doppelganger quite often, no, ya?)

We managed to make it through all of the steps but the last, being immediately accosted by a very, ridiculously aggressive taxi driver even before exiting the bus. Into the bus popped the shrewd face, "YouwanttoseeManger? MilkChurch (MILK CHURCH?)?Holy sites? I takeyoo, 120 shekels each! Herod's palace extra!"

No thank you, came our firm reply, and we walked away down the street, to the left.
And the crazy cabbie followed us, dropping his price to 100, 90, 80, all the way to 40 shekels. But we just didn't like the pushy, mean man.

"La! La! Shookrun. NO, thank you. We will walk." I replied, walking away in the wrong direction. A few steps later it dawned on me that we were, indeed walking the wrong direction and that I had no clue where to go.

A much kinder voice rescued us. "Hello, you are going the wrong way."

Yes, it WAS that obvious.

I stopped to listen to the man's instructions and offer to take us to the Church of the Nativity for only 20 shekels, total. Much better. I looked to confirm with the girls, who consented, and away we went, driving up a MASSIVE hill, through a windy-roaded city that would have taken MUCH longer than 20 minutes to walk through. The man was very congenial, but very real with us. "My name is Al'a. No, I am not god." He joked, his name undoubtedly the butt of many quips throughout his life. "I will take you to the church. But there are also other holy sites to visit..." Including one site that we'd known nothing about, but when he showed us the photos of the site all three of us were smitten: Herod's palace fortress. So we arranged to have him take us around, far and near, to four or five sites including the palace fortress, for 50 shekels, about 13$, which isn't very much for a private guided tour for the day. It wasn't about the money, it was about finding a driver we trusted to be a decent escort for a day in Israel's West Bank.

And you can't get much better than Allah Al'a, right?

Wah-wah.

Truthfully, it was the best decision we could have made because things were about to go become explosive, literally...

(For Part 2, CLICK HERE)

 

 Manger scene @ Shepherd's Field

Shepherd's Field Church

 Church of the Nativity

 Byzantine mosaic detail

 Check out the staining on the columns from centuries of incense burning!

The back way into the Nativity Room. Al'a gave us a great tip: Go into the church, then go to the left. Don't follow the crowds to the right, they take all day. Go to the left and you'll be let into the Nativity room almost immediately. (Warning, this place can be CRAZY crowded, and the tour guides are insanely pushy.)

 Inside the Nativity Room.

In the main chapel in the Church of the Nativity. Under the big altar is another room, (I keep calling it the Nativity Room) wherein lies the spot Christ was supposedly born, marked with a large silver star inlaid into the ground:

(For Part 2, CLICK HERE)

Bethlehem: Herodion

"I won't advocate going, but I will go with you if you're determined to do it."

That's what I said to my travel companions who had decided they wanted to venture across the checkpoint into the West Bank to go to Bethlehem.

The "War" had been raging between Hamas and Israel for nearly two weeks. We'd been in Jerusalem three days and were ready to venture beyond the confines of the city and explore a bit more of Israel. Bethlehem is only an hour's bus ride from the city and seemed a good first expedition. Except for the fact of it's location being firmly inside of the West Bank.

The nuns working at the front desk of our convent/guest house shared my hesitation for going to the West Bank, but told us that other guests had been to Bethlehem in the past few days with no problems. We left my cellular number and travel plans at the front desk just in case anything should happen and walked out of Damascus gate for the bus depot.

Soon enough the bus rolled on through the stony hills and pulled up to a curb along side a bland, non-descript street and everyone got off the bus. There was no sign, nothing to tell us where we were, so we sat on the bus a few minutes, looking around in confusion, until a pushy taxi driver popped his head into the bus and declared "This is Bethlehem. You are coming off the bus now." And we knew we were in for a bit of a battle against pushy taxi drivers, then. And that is not uncommon in the Middle East.

Suffice it to say that we offended a few of the nastier taxi drivers in the process (offense is average as well, too), but we finally ended up with a driver who didn't make us want to punch him and gave us a decent price.

Away we shot, our first stop taking us a ways outside the biblical city to a place I'd never heard of before, but holds significant historical importance (if not biblical), Herod's Palace Fortress.

King Herod was a very industrious man. He built palaces all over the region. Herodian, near Bethlehem is quite a sight. Perched high atop a hill in the middle of a valley, it has an amazing view of the region. As we exited the taxi at the site's parking lot, the call to prayer rang out, echoing through the valley from minarets all around, filling the region with waves of sound and life.

A short hike up a steep hill later and we were surrounded by Roman ruins and a part of Herod's legacy.

About Herodion:
Herodium, located south of Jerusalem and east of Bethlehem, on the edge of the Judean Desert, is one of the most fascinating antiquities sites in the country, it was built by King Herod the Great between 23 and 15 BCE, as a combined palace and powerful fortress. The complex was surrounded by a double wall 63 meters in diameter and seven stories high, within which Herod built a palace that included halls, courtyards and opulent bathhouses.

Earth was heaped up around the walls, which created a cone-shaped artificial mountain. At its foot, Herod built a kind of royal ‘country club,’ including a large pool, a bathhouse and a roofed pool.

Despite its desert location, the complex was surrounded by magnificent gardens irrigated by the pool. A special aqueduct from the area of Solomon’s Pools near Bethlehem brought water to the palace.

The importance of Herodium to the king is clear from the fact that it is the only place he constructed to which he gave his name. The discovery of Herod’s magnificent tomb there after long years of searching strengthens the understanding that the Judean “builder-king” had a special attachment to this site. Its special charm is also revealed in the breathtaking view from the top, which takes in Jerusalem, Bethlehem and the unspoiled Judean Desert.

During the Great Revolt of the Jews against the Romans the rebels had a base at Herodium, constructing a synagogue there that can still be seen. During the Bar Kokhba Revolt, Jewish fighters hewed tunnels within the artificial mountain, part of which are lit and accessible to visitors. 

(Information from the website listed below)

Entrance Fee: 22 NIS (About $7.50 US)
Getting there: Take a cab from Bethlehem.
Plan on: An hour on site, at most.
Fun: There is a tunnel that runs from the base of the hill all the way to the top. Part of the tunnel is open to the public. Our taxi driver said it was possible to hike all the way to the bottom, but we didn't.

Website: http://www.parks.org.il/parks/ParksAndReserves/gerodium/Pages/default.aspx

Beginning to Comprehend Jerusalem

So far I've taken hundreds of photos with my proper camera, but only two with my iPhone, and iPhone photos are sooooo much easier to upload at this point, so I'm afraid they're all I'll be posting until I get home.

I do believe we are staying in a place with the most picturesque balconies in all of Jerusalem. Given that this is my first trip to Jerusalem, I could be wrong. But in any case, this place is fairly fantastic.

Today was a day filled with loads of walking, getting denied entrance to the Dome of the Rock from several entrances, "Muslims only! Come back at 12:30," (We opted to return another day and press on to other sites) The Pool of Bethesda, The Western Wall (Wailing Wall), The Jewish Quarter and walking much of the perimeter of the Muslim quarter trying to find the Rampart Walk. (You can walk all around the Old City atop the city wall ramparts... pretty cool, if you can find an entrance!)

The city is amazingly friendly, calm and feels much more safe than other cities I've visited in the Middle East. It is not what I expected. And it is so much more. There are people from all walks of life and faith here. Thousands of years' of history is here. And everyone claims a piece of this city for their own. The claims are written on the very walls of the buildings and the street signs. The Armenian Quarter. The Jewish Quarter. The Russian Orthodox church. Consecrated by the Dan family of Texas...

Last night, after arriving at the hostel as I lay down for a much-needed night's rest (after two days of traveling) I could hear Bo-Boom, Pop-pop-pop-pop from a distance. It sounded like fireworks, but it was something much worse. Israel firing on Gaza and Gaza returning fire. It is surreal to be so close to such devastating things, and yet the attitude all around me is nonchalant, perhaps dismissive. After all, what can the people do but go on living?

Tomorrow: More attempts at visiting the Dome of the Rock, followed by a bus ride to Bethlehem. A man in the bazaar today tried to sell my travel companions on a tour to the Mount of Olives and Bethlehem. "200 Shekels each! Very Good Price!" (About $50 each)
 "Is it safe?" Asked one of the girls. (Bethlehem is in the Palestinian bounds.)
"Yes, yes, very safe." Replied the man. (Of course.) "Someone will try and tell you it is not safe. I say that he should take off a shoe and put it in his mouth."

 The girls took his card and promised to call if interested. Back at our Convent/Hostel the lady at the front desk promptly told us that the easiest way to Bethlehem was a 20-minute ride on the number 21 bus from Damascus gate (behind our hostel) for 7 Shekels (About $1.75) and that it was indeed very safe and unproblematic to go there as several guests had just returned today without incident.

200 Shekels or 7? Take your pick. But the disclaimer for the Middle East should be: Buyer Beware. Here you DON'T always get what you pay for.

But you're certain to have an adventure no matter what.

That's the Middle East.

The view from our magnificent balcony at Ecce Homo Convent. Dome of the Rock in the distance.