It has now been nearly two weeks since I returned from the Holy Land. I had meant to recap my thoughts and feelings on the experience, but I was not, and still am not, sure that I can accurately and coherently summarize the trip. This post goes over the last few days in Palestine, hopefully a reflective post will come soon.
But first, I have not divulged the details of our last few days, which we certainly memorable. While at Haddad Village, we listened to Pastor Azar and Pastor Saliba (or attempted to get the translations), made many friendship bracelets, had free time to swim or go to the amusement park, visited a history museum (but all I really got out of it were the creepy and awkwardly painted mannequins), and shared many meals with our group and the other youth. One night we had a dance, which they started out mixing American and Arabic music, transitioning just to Arabic music, so we were a bit out of our element. The girls tried to teach us their moves and we refused to show them the kind of American dancing one might see at your typical high school these days. Eventually, we let down our guards and started dancing along with them. I figured I had nothing to lose but my dignity and self-respect, so I jumped on in. We were told beforehand by Pastor Saliba that prizes would be given to the best dancers. I lost that the second I walked in the door, or so I thought – apparently they also gave prizes to the most ridiculous dancers. And so, my inhibition-less Arabic dancing won me swimming goggles.
Together with the Palestinian youth, we left Haddad village aboard the busses that brought us there. Because our group had such a rough time on the way up, we all dosed ourselves with some Dramamine for the ride. Unfortunately, the Palestinians do not have iron stomachs as we were once told. Several kids in our minibus were not feeling too great as we wound through the bumpy roads and demonstrated that fact through the second showing of lunch. The air wasn’t flowing well and cafeteria style and sized meals right before we left did not aid the matter. We stopped for sweets in Nablus and despite the vomiting and nausea, many indulged in the icecream. We Americans, however, still drowsy from the medicine just sat content in our seats waiting to move on. In Ramallah, we said our goodbyes to the dozens of teens that had come into our lives over the last two weeks and headed back to Jerusalem.
Stepping into the Azzahra Hotel it was like we never left, Katie and I joked that we were “home” again. The following day, our final day, Scott arranged for us to go to the Dead Sea. This was something that I had really wanted to do, especially having not gone in 2009 during my previous trip. I was extremely grateful to him for putting that together for us, considering it involved us backing out on an overnight family stay in Ramallah and figuring out more transportation and financial details (for which I am also thankful I did not have to deal with the entire trip, a true blessing).
Going to the Dead Sea was a bit of a surreal experience. Within my first few steps in my foot found a hole and I fell right in. We mudded ourselves up and stood in the sun to help it dry. Supposedly it does remarkable things to your skin, but I am sure we looked a bit silly (no one else seemed to take part in this ritual except for us). [As a side note, Ahava is an Israeli company that manufactures cosmetics using minerals from the Dead Sea and has a factory and visitors’ center in the Israeli settlement of Mitzpe Shalem in the occupied West Bank. 34% of the company shares are held by the West Bank settlement of Kibbutz Mitzpe Shalem, 34% by Hamashbir Holdings, 18% are held by Shamrock Holdings (the investment fund of the Roy E. Disney family), and 6% by the West Bank settlement of Kibbutz Kaliya. It has been the target of many protests and boycott movements, given that is an Israeli company profiting from the occupation. For more information check out bigcampaign. org or bdsmovement. net about the BDS movement for non-violent action against the occupation.]
After washing off the mud in an outdoor shower we spent some time relaxing and floating in the Dead Sea – which is quite an odd feeling.
We returned to Jerusalem and met up with Shukri to do some final shopping and talk with him about our experiences. One of my favorite parts of the trip was just being in the Old City and our visit to Shukri’s home showed me a side of the Old City that I had not seen before. Tucked in through narrow winding roads was his home with a beautiful courtyard and a tree growing in it. Certianly unexpected when my vision of the Old City are bustling streets full of smells and noise and covered walkways; his home was light, airy, and quiet. Except when he played his traditional drum for us (accompanied by his one year old nephew).
Shopping in the Old City goes along with my favorites for the trip. There is such a wide variety of goods for sale – the obligatory tourist shops, clothes, shoes, fruit and vegetables, falafel, housewares, and my favorite – spices. Truthfully I am not very creative when it comes to cooking so spices aren’t generally my forte, but the spices in Jerusalem are without a doubt spectacular. I brought home zatar (a mixture of powdered spices used for dipping bread into), cinnamon, makluba spice (so I can try to make my own upside down), and saffron. The saffron is CHEAP and when I say cheap, I mean cheap. For 15 NIS (~4 USD) you can get a small tub filled with the spice. A small paper envelope about the size of a half dollar coin costs $10 in the US.
Dinner was on top of the Mount of Olives - pizza! We met up with a few Palestinian youth and the many internationals and locals that gather there each Wendesday to play volleyball and enjoy the fellowship. The sunset over the city was beautiful despite the cloud cover. We walked down through the olive groves to take photos, but got spooked by the darkness and sounds that convinced us we were not alone (which might have been true given there was a settlement not too far away with guards who are known to walk the grounds). We returned to the Azzahra to count down the hours until our flights in the early morning. Because we didn’t have rooms and were leaving at 2 am, many of us napped on the couches in the lobby. We said our goodbyes to Scott, boarded our bus, and made our way to the airport. On the way we were stopped at a pre-airport checkpoint where a soldier boarded and searched our bus, likely because of our Palestinian driver.
I was flying alone out of Tel Aviv on El Al Israel Airlines and the rest of the group was flying Lufthansa and the original plan was to stick together through security, but because of the way the airport is set up, there is an initial security point before you get to the counters and have to split up before then. Immediately I became nervous because I was counting on Bill in his clerical collar to get us through security easily. I said my goodbyes hurriedly to the group because we all had to figure out the system. In line waiting for the initial security I was asked for my passport by two young women (one clearly in training). I was asked the standard why was I there question, but they were confused by my past Jordanian visa and sticker from entrance via Allenby bridge (from going to the Holy Land via Amman last year). I explained that it was from a previous tourist trip, but they then gave my passport to a man who asked me more questions about my current trip and last trip and where the rest of my group was. I thought I was explaining them fine, but my nervousness must have shown through because he gave me back my passport and slapped it and all of my baggage with a sticker with the number 5.
Now here is where I must explain a little bit about flying out of Tel Aviv. This initial security check screens all passengers for a perceived security threat. Everyone is given a sticker with a number on it, going from 1-6. An Israeli citizen would get a 1. A foreign Jew would likely get a 2. Most foreigners probably a 3, a Palestinian would almost certainly get a 6. The number you get dictates the type of security breeze/interrogation you may get. Knowing this beforehand, once I got the 5 I figured, well, I guess they’re going to search so let’s get it over with.
I had to step up to a counter and empty all of my bags so that they could look and test for any sort of suspicious or explosive material. Originally she told me that if I wanted to take my carry-on with me instead of checking it then this was going to take longer. I did not want to check my computer and I knew that they had to get me to my flight on time anyway, so I just went with the full check. There was not much in my carry on that was suspicious anyway.
The girl going through my bags was about my age and actually very nice. I got the feeling that they did not understand why I was given a 5 (especially considering they never found my keffiyah and didn’t open my “Visit Palestine” poster). I had to turn on my computer and open a file, which turned out to be the most cumbersome part because my battery was dead. Once I got it on though, the security girl complimented me on the background picture (of Ludington) and we commiserated on how slow my old Vista computer is. I was not really asked any more questions at this point, which surprised me. Never once was I asked where I stayed or what exactly we did. Once all of my belongings were shoved back in my bags, she escorted me to the front of the ticket line, bypassed the security line by going through the employee line, and she brought me up to Passport Control, shook my hand and told me to have a great flight.
I’d take a 5 again if it only meant repacking my bags and not having to stand in any line. I ended up making it to the gate before most people, including those I stood in the initial security line with.
A short stop in Rome and I was home.
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