Salaama | Shalom
I had looked forward to our stay in Israel for quite sometime (just ask Matt how often I told him I was excited about it). Israel was the only place on the entire trip that I had been before, but two years time and a different purpose produced a very different experience. During the summer of 2003, I was there with a group of student fellows selected by a think-tank in DC to study terrorism. At that time, many people scoffed at the thought of a wall around and disengagement from the Gaza strip and the west bank.
During our stay last week, conservative Israelis vehemently protested the near certain Gaza disengagement set to occur in 2 weeks time and a new wall around the West Bank had already begun to interrupt Palestinians' lives and purportedly protect Israelis.
Yuval, our tremendous host and (now friend) in Tel Aviv, told us about the "ribbon war" that recently broke out all over Israel in anticipation of Sharon's decision to disengage from Gaza. Opponents of the pull-out had been giving out thousands of orange ribbons to like-minded Israelis all over the country. In response to the barrage of orange adorned car antennas, proponents of disengagement began handing out blue and white ribbons (the same colors on the Israeli flag). After Yuval picked us up from the airport our first night there, we discussed watching an anti-disengagement parade the next day that promise all sorts of excitement in the form of riot police, rubber bullets, and fanatic settlers.
We opted for a day tip to the Dead Sea instead. Matt, Yuval, and I smeared mud on ourselves and floated in the lowest place on earth (400 some meters below sea level). Lying on top of the water, you can spin to the east and make out the Jordan border of the sea through the 43 degree Celsius heat haze and the rise of Israel's desert mountains to the west.
The three of us drove the 2 hours back to Tel Aviv for an authentic Arab-Israeli lunch then on to Netanya and the Park Hotel built by Mr. Cohen - the same Park Hotel that had been bombed and rebuilt in 2003. That evening we had a truly international meal at the Cohen's apartment. Mrs. Cohen prepared Moroccan, French, and traditionally Jewish dishes that reflected her own roots. After dinner we sat and discussed the political situation in Israel (among other things) in broken English, French, and Hebrew for a few hours. It was fascinating to listen to the various viewpoints represented. Aside from Matt and I, a family of true Zionists, a young leftist, a Swiss centrist (who doubled as a trilingual translator) sparred their viewpoints for a few hours over such issues as right of return, the wall, disengagement, and the occupied territories. At some point during the conversation, I mentioned Raja, a good friend from school, who also happened to be a Palestinian supporting the PLO in negotiations with Israel. I tried to convey his viewpoint after the Cohens asked.
---
It wasn't until a few days later that I realized exactly how I had fallen short in conveying his perspective. I realized that I could not REALLY understand Raja and his sister's perspective until I had visited their home.
---
After one last hurrah with Yuval on Wednesday, at one of the beautiful beaches in Tel Aviv, Matt and I boarded a public bus (complete with armed guard... every public place is required one in Israel) for Jerusalem. Diala, Ron's sister, met us at a well-known hotel in East Jerusalem and took us back through one checkpoint to her family's house and then through another to Ron's new apartment near Ramallah.
The next day, I stared at the infamous wall as we rode in Palestinian taxis between checkpoints. The contrast between East Jerusalem and those areas behind the walls in the West Bank was shocking. The unemployment rate in the West Bank is around 30% and that's not bad compared to the current rate in the Gaza strip (around 60%). Basic services are not provided because the governmental infrastructure is nearly non-existent in terms of domestic services. Streets lack signs, traffic directions, and lines, much less traffic enforcement. I asked Raja how trash was collected and he just said that people worked together to manage the refuse and usually just burnt it. Sitting in lines at the checkpoints can take hours upon hours and even longer during rush hour. Fortunately for Matt and I, we traveled through the checkpoints at abnormal hours and were significantly aided by our American passports.
It was wonderful to catch up with Raja and Diala and hang out with our new friend Kira (also visiting from the States). Matt, Kira, and I toured about Jerusalem and Ramallah while Raja and Diala were working. That afternoon, after Raja picked us up from his house, we had tea at the home of the PLO's ambassador to the US. The newly built house looked out over a valley full of olives trees that had been in the family for generations. While there I picked my first olive and ate my first fresh fig. The bought fig was much better than the picked olive as they are not ripe until November. Raja pointed out differences between the Israeli settlements and Palestinian villages on the opposing hills. That night, I scared a few people with some true American white-boy dancing at the only night-club in Ramallah and probably the whole West Bank.
On the last day there, our now tight-knit crew of 5 set out for the beach in Tel Aviv with falafel sandwiches in hand. After a couple hours on the road to Tel Aviv and a couple on the same beach we had visited a few days prior, Matt and I set out in sandy board shorts for the airport. Upon arrival we "neglected" to tell the security personnel about our time in the West Bank and I made sure the newsletter Raja helped produce on the Wall was well hidden in my backpack.
I wish you all well. Please email me with news from your home and your address if you'd like a postcard. I do love getting emails on the road.
God Bless,
Dan
During our stay last week, conservative Israelis vehemently protested the near certain Gaza disengagement set to occur in 2 weeks time and a new wall around the West Bank had already begun to interrupt Palestinians' lives and purportedly protect Israelis.
Yuval, our tremendous host and (now friend) in Tel Aviv, told us about the "ribbon war" that recently broke out all over Israel in anticipation of Sharon's decision to disengage from Gaza. Opponents of the pull-out had been giving out thousands of orange ribbons to like-minded Israelis all over the country. In response to the barrage of orange adorned car antennas, proponents of disengagement began handing out blue and white ribbons (the same colors on the Israeli flag). After Yuval picked us up from the airport our first night there, we discussed watching an anti-disengagement parade the next day that promise all sorts of excitement in the form of riot police, rubber bullets, and fanatic settlers.
We opted for a day tip to the Dead Sea instead. Matt, Yuval, and I smeared mud on ourselves and floated in the lowest place on earth (400 some meters below sea level). Lying on top of the water, you can spin to the east and make out the Jordan border of the sea through the 43 degree Celsius heat haze and the rise of Israel's desert mountains to the west.
The three of us drove the 2 hours back to Tel Aviv for an authentic Arab-Israeli lunch then on to Netanya and the Park Hotel built by Mr. Cohen - the same Park Hotel that had been bombed and rebuilt in 2003. That evening we had a truly international meal at the Cohen's apartment. Mrs. Cohen prepared Moroccan, French, and traditionally Jewish dishes that reflected her own roots. After dinner we sat and discussed the political situation in Israel (among other things) in broken English, French, and Hebrew for a few hours. It was fascinating to listen to the various viewpoints represented. Aside from Matt and I, a family of true Zionists, a young leftist, a Swiss centrist (who doubled as a trilingual translator) sparred their viewpoints for a few hours over such issues as right of return, the wall, disengagement, and the occupied territories. At some point during the conversation, I mentioned Raja, a good friend from school, who also happened to be a Palestinian supporting the PLO in negotiations with Israel. I tried to convey his viewpoint after the Cohens asked.
---
It wasn't until a few days later that I realized exactly how I had fallen short in conveying his perspective. I realized that I could not REALLY understand Raja and his sister's perspective until I had visited their home.
---
After one last hurrah with Yuval on Wednesday, at one of the beautiful beaches in Tel Aviv, Matt and I boarded a public bus (complete with armed guard... every public place is required one in Israel) for Jerusalem. Diala, Ron's sister, met us at a well-known hotel in East Jerusalem and took us back through one checkpoint to her family's house and then through another to Ron's new apartment near Ramallah.
The next day, I stared at the infamous wall as we rode in Palestinian taxis between checkpoints. The contrast between East Jerusalem and those areas behind the walls in the West Bank was shocking. The unemployment rate in the West Bank is around 30% and that's not bad compared to the current rate in the Gaza strip (around 60%). Basic services are not provided because the governmental infrastructure is nearly non-existent in terms of domestic services. Streets lack signs, traffic directions, and lines, much less traffic enforcement. I asked Raja how trash was collected and he just said that people worked together to manage the refuse and usually just burnt it. Sitting in lines at the checkpoints can take hours upon hours and even longer during rush hour. Fortunately for Matt and I, we traveled through the checkpoints at abnormal hours and were significantly aided by our American passports.
It was wonderful to catch up with Raja and Diala and hang out with our new friend Kira (also visiting from the States). Matt, Kira, and I toured about Jerusalem and Ramallah while Raja and Diala were working. That afternoon, after Raja picked us up from his house, we had tea at the home of the PLO's ambassador to the US. The newly built house looked out over a valley full of olives trees that had been in the family for generations. While there I picked my first olive and ate my first fresh fig. The bought fig was much better than the picked olive as they are not ripe until November. Raja pointed out differences between the Israeli settlements and Palestinian villages on the opposing hills. That night, I scared a few people with some true American white-boy dancing at the only night-club in Ramallah and probably the whole West Bank.
On the last day there, our now tight-knit crew of 5 set out for the beach in Tel Aviv with falafel sandwiches in hand. After a couple hours on the road to Tel Aviv and a couple on the same beach we had visited a few days prior, Matt and I set out in sandy board shorts for the airport. Upon arrival we "neglected" to tell the security personnel about our time in the West Bank and I made sure the newsletter Raja helped produce on the Wall was well hidden in my backpack.
I wish you all well. Please email me with news from your home and your address if you'd like a postcard. I do love getting emails on the road.
God Bless,
Dan
posted by Dan at 8:00 PM
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