Bethlehem and beyond

On the way to Bethlehem where we will spend the night, it seems like there are more settlers than Palestinians, in this the land set aside for Palestinians.

There is a big Fatah governmental meeting while we are there, at the Bethlehem Peace Center. There are lots of shiny black cars and press. We spot a reporter we know from Al Jazeera TV, and ask to take her photo. She is very nice and even remembers my name as we say goodbye.

We stay the night in a refugee camp guesthouse. Here is Ben crouched on a bunk bed. And a mural outside. (Mural says: We'll make our history/Free Palestine/Children of Dheisheh)

Next day we drive south to see the city of Hebron. It is refreshing to be in a poor but vibrant Palestinian city. It is a little further from the walls than Bethlehem or Ramallah, which seems to give it a little more breathing room. On the other hand, if your car has Palestinian license plates you can never leave. And somehow we don’t see the ultraorthodox Jewish settlement we read about in the center of town. Apparently there are 17 settlements in the vicinity of Hebron, housing 12,000 Jews.

We make our way to a church near Bethlehem honoring St. George, of dragon fame. St. George is holy to Christians, Jews, and Moslems, and this church was formerly the one place all came together to pray. Since the Intifada Jews don't come any more. Such a pity. We have so much in common.

The West Bank really is a big prison in some ways. The oppression is chipping away at the strong cultural and community fabric of the Palestinian people. Really, how much can one take before one shouts in anger or throws a stone? This has been going on for 60 years.

In Bethlehem we visit a church built on the spot where Jesus was said to have been born. You enter by the “Door of Humility”. One confessional booth offers French and Arabic, another Spanish, English, and Italian for the many visitors.

We wait 15 minutes at the checkpoint crossing from Bethlehem into Jerusalem. There are three sets of guards, three bars to be raised, a set of tire puncturing studs, one trunk search, one bag search (“what’s in the bag?” “A cross”). It was made of olive wood and newly purchased at Nativity Square, center of love and peace just a mile or two away. Here, the guard makes us get out of the car so he can see our faces, instead of leaving his guardhouse and walking to the car.

Photos of the wall outside Bethlehem, and a sign telling who may exit. It says "Authorized vehicles only: Tourist busses, CC/CD (diplomatic) license plates, Israeli license plates, international organizations license plates, senior religious vehicles". No Palestinians.

There is an illegal permanent settlement on top of the Mt. of Olives, above the Garden of Gethsemane—Arab land. They bulldozed Palestinian homes to build it. We hear the Israeli government no longer considers any of Jerusalem, a city as holy to Moslems as to Jews, Arab land. K heard a news report saying that the Jerusalem mayor has decided to change all the road signs to be in Hebrew only. No more Arabic or English.

Oh America, my country—this is your tax dollars at work! This is foreign aid gone badly, badly awry. Israel in this form could not exist without the massive amount of support we give it every single year in military aid.

We visit a museum that houses the Dead Sea scrolls. Wow (no pix allowed). A sign outside the museum invites visitors to "check your weapons here": (I wonder what kind of weapon this lady is carrying)

We stay the night in a B&B in West Jerusalem, in a neighborhood with many orthodox Jews. Will I be stoned if I walk around in my sleeveless dress? Maybe. It is a bit scary. We note that the only English news station on the TV is Fox!

The lady who runs the B&B is very, very nice, and I am so grateful to meet a lovely Israeli person. I needed that. She confirms that I may have trouble being sleeveless in the neighborhood.

Our last day we tour the Old City of Jerusalem. Here is the Garden of Gethsemane—with 2000 year old olive trees! And the Mt. of Olives. And the Wailing Wall with Al Aqsa Mosque behind. And a sign near the city walls. And an off duty soldier in the crowd at the Wailing Wall—do you see him in the light shorts at the center? Off duty IDF forces are required to carry their weapons with them at all times.

Here is the classic Jerusalem shot of the Dome of the Rock. With a classic boy.

And here is a shop in the Christian Quarter, with Jewish, Christian and Palestinian cloths for sale.
We visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchur, built where Calvary once stood.

We follow the stations of the cross and stand where Jesus was beaten, given the cross to carry, saw his mother in the crowd, told some people to cry for their own sons but not for him, where he fell, where the Romans had Simon help him carry the cross, where he was crucified, and where the tomb was discovered.

I am much more moved than I thought I would be at seeing these things. It is very powerful to know that people from all over the world, of three (or more?) different faiths travel from countries all over the world to see these things and be moved by them too.

Here are Ben and K at the Damascus Gate outside the Old City walls of Jerusalem .

We stay the night with Ben’s boss at CARE. She is welcoming and kind and thinks the world of Ben :-).

It is much easier to leave Jerusalem than to enter. Here is the wall, stretching for miles.

On the way to the Jordanian border, signs show the dropping elevation as we near the Dead Sea that separates the two countries. At 500 feet below sea level my ears pop.

It is a hilly and barren wasteland here, then becomes flat with occasional bits of scrub.

At the border, locals have to stand in three lines: Ministry of Interior, exit tax and passport control. Foreigners only the latter two. The exit tax is steep (you can pay by credit card)--~$40 a person. We are an hour and 10 minutes at the Israeli side, then a bus to the Jordan side.

A few amusing signs in Jordan:

The Center for American Doors
Free your mind soul
And in the West Bank: Good Luck Car Rental

What a relief to be out of Israel and the Occupied Territory! What tension, constantly wary of being stopped, interrogated or even stoned, making way for orthodox Jews who feel and act as if they own the sidewalk and may even teach their three year olds to spit at Arabs. And I am a privileged American who can leave at any time! The constant oppression breeds simmering rage, a dull hatred. It is a horrid way to live.

Tom says the behavior is borderline social obtuseness or social incompetence—even if you did understand how to be polite and respectful you wouldn’t know how to do it. He doesn’t like either possibility.

At the Amman airport we see the Lebanese Army Taekwondo Team arrive on the plane that will carry us to Beirut. Here is a photo from the Amman airport--the signs say "Prayer Room Female" and "Prayer Room Male".

If Jordan was a relief, Lebanon was practically Heaven.