Today begins week 3. Past trips or experiences, I found myself coming to my journal with the opening remark, "Time has flown by..". Here it's barely moving. My rationale is that by all accounts, this is the hardest place I've ever found myself. Difficult on all fronts. Living in Bethlehem is an amazing experience, but one that comes with limitations. As a female, I can, but am strongly warned against, walking alone after dark. Being that winter is (slowly) beginning to show it's face, night acts like these mischievous kids and sneaks up without warning. It then holds me here like a hostage, leaving me to dream of all the secret fun those who can be out must be having. The solitude sometimes feels like isolation. I'm realizing quickly how much I depend on the company of others, and am hoping this experience will "grow me out of it" just slightly. I'm an extrovert, so slightly may even be a stretch. I find myself often thinking of home, because I love the people there, but also because it's so difficult to find something here that resembles it. How funny it is to now look back on my time in Korea and think how little of a stretch that was from my normal life. I had the things I really valued - a close community - people that made me laugh, mobility, cafes to use as a get away from home and work..
Read this entry as simply this: Being here has made me more self aware, and I am prepared for a time of much self reflection and (cross your fingers) growth.
(can you, through time & practice, become more or less extroverted/introverted? I guess we'll see)
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
A Bumpy Ride
I've waged war. Against the mosquitoes. I've been in town a week, and am already covered in bites - my legs look like I have leprosy and I can't shave. It is quite dismal. I killed 3 yesterday however, so if my math is correct, I think the score is even.
It's 5:30pm and I just got back from a walk to the Church of the Nativity with Iman and Naggi. Two boys that live here at the House of Hope. We blended right in - a tall white girl walking hand in hand with 2 special needs kids. Iman is the only boy at the house who speaks English, and although I sometimes (a lot of times) don't understand exactly what he's sayings, it's still so nice to get to put thoughts to their smiling faces. Today he called his mom on his hand phone a few times on our walk. I told him to tell her "Marhaba, Keif Haulic?" (Hello, how are you?) - His hand phone literally being his hand. Naggi doesn't talk much and has a more severe case of retardation, but his heart radiates out of him.
Before the much needed walk, I spent most of the day overly frustrated. You know when you are aware of what needs to be done, but there are so many things to do, deciding how to most efficiently get them all done tends to make your head spin rather than lead towards a productive end? That was my day. Fully self inflicted, but that doesn't cut the burn. I'm in the process of marketing a guest house. But the guest house is fairly new and hasn't been "set up" so to speak. So there is much work to be done.
But, it's hard to be upset about the goings-on of my life when I look outside and see the kids riding in circles on their bikes laughing at the top of their lungs. Probably at nothing, but I guess that's the point isn't it?
Let me regress and fill you in on the days leading up to this one.. I have now lived here one week. 7 days. It feels longer than that - Is that a good or bad sign? On my first full day in town, I saw both the church of the nativity (where Jesus was said to be born) and Matisyahu, a hasidic jewish rapper. The latter came about because Mike (Schmautz) heard he was in town doing a show and knew the venue was perfect for poor volunteers such as ourselves (and all of our friends here). The concert was at a place called 'Sultan's Pools' which is this hole in the middle of Jerusalem (literally, right outside Jaffa Gate in a highly populated area). The amphitheater is built into this hole which conveniently is situated right between two hillsides. We scurried up the hill furthest from the road, and possible noise disturbance, and situated ourselves under a grove of olive trees. While we couldn't actually see him like the people IN the theater, we did save ourselves 200 shekels ($50). It was quite an introduction to the area.
For those that are aware, this area of the world is a hot bed of tension. As with most situations like these, the majority of the people on both sides, are good people, not wanting harm for anyone. Of course governments and the few make this hope a failing one. I am living and working in Bethlehem, which is in the West Bank and therefore Occupied Territory of Palestine. Being in this area, it becomes daily life to discuss what's going on here - the harassment by the soldiers at the checkpoints (not to me of course, my little white face gets the green light every time. No, it's my co-workers and friends that are stopped), the Palestinians who can't go to Jerusalem ever because they don't have the stamp from the Israeli government allowing it, the families that are woken in the morning to news that their house is being confiscated (in 5 minutes) and they need to leave immediately (due to "rezoning"), the audacity of the U.S., and countries around the world, to turn a blind eye to the illegal actions occurring every day.
It all weighs on you.
But I figured as much when I decided to come. My co-worker and friend Sammy, who's been working with the kids at the House of Hope for 19 years, was telling me yesterday he'd love to come visit Jerusalem with us some time, but it's just not worth it. He doesn't have permission, and I'm not sure why - I don't think he knows either. He explained that if he got caught coming into Jerusalem, he's be fined and then jailed up to 6 months. 6 months in jail because he's Palestinian and he wants to go to Jerusalem (East Jerusalem is technically the West Bank and Palestinian territory, however, it's governed under Israeli jurisdiction so it's no hope for Sammy.)
Beyond the politics of it all, Israeli or Palestinian, everyone I've met has been so kind and welcoming. Mike and I were invited to share a meal with a man Mike met randomly some time ago. He owns a little souvenir shop near the church of the nativity which doesn't make much money, but he's there smiling every day. After he made us food, we went to his shop and instead of letting us buy things from him (things which we were really only buying to support him in return for his hospitality), he gave me a necklace as a welcome present, and then wouldn't take more than 1/2 price for all the things we purchased. He kept saying, 'it is our way, please, take it'. It's always such a striking lesson to see people who are in no position to be generous, being just that. Adnan will forever be a good friend of mine.
Last thought, I will write more about this later - Arabic has become my favorite language. It is full of these wonderfully flavorful saying that are used in every day life such as "bless your hands" said when someone prepares something for you. Or When someone says 'Good morning', the response translates to something like 'the Light!'. And my favorite, 'Stab your eye out!', perfect for yelling at boys who are inappropriate looking up girls walking by.. it's lovely.
I'd post pictures, but the internet isn't letting me..
Go in peace
It's 5:30pm and I just got back from a walk to the Church of the Nativity with Iman and Naggi. Two boys that live here at the House of Hope. We blended right in - a tall white girl walking hand in hand with 2 special needs kids. Iman is the only boy at the house who speaks English, and although I sometimes (a lot of times) don't understand exactly what he's sayings, it's still so nice to get to put thoughts to their smiling faces. Today he called his mom on his hand phone a few times on our walk. I told him to tell her "Marhaba, Keif Haulic?" (Hello, how are you?) - His hand phone literally being his hand. Naggi doesn't talk much and has a more severe case of retardation, but his heart radiates out of him.
Before the much needed walk, I spent most of the day overly frustrated. You know when you are aware of what needs to be done, but there are so many things to do, deciding how to most efficiently get them all done tends to make your head spin rather than lead towards a productive end? That was my day. Fully self inflicted, but that doesn't cut the burn. I'm in the process of marketing a guest house. But the guest house is fairly new and hasn't been "set up" so to speak. So there is much work to be done.
But, it's hard to be upset about the goings-on of my life when I look outside and see the kids riding in circles on their bikes laughing at the top of their lungs. Probably at nothing, but I guess that's the point isn't it?
Let me regress and fill you in on the days leading up to this one.. I have now lived here one week. 7 days. It feels longer than that - Is that a good or bad sign? On my first full day in town, I saw both the church of the nativity (where Jesus was said to be born) and Matisyahu, a hasidic jewish rapper. The latter came about because Mike (Schmautz) heard he was in town doing a show and knew the venue was perfect for poor volunteers such as ourselves (and all of our friends here). The concert was at a place called 'Sultan's Pools' which is this hole in the middle of Jerusalem (literally, right outside Jaffa Gate in a highly populated area). The amphitheater is built into this hole which conveniently is situated right between two hillsides. We scurried up the hill furthest from the road, and possible noise disturbance, and situated ourselves under a grove of olive trees. While we couldn't actually see him like the people IN the theater, we did save ourselves 200 shekels ($50). It was quite an introduction to the area.
For those that are aware, this area of the world is a hot bed of tension. As with most situations like these, the majority of the people on both sides, are good people, not wanting harm for anyone. Of course governments and the few make this hope a failing one. I am living and working in Bethlehem, which is in the West Bank and therefore Occupied Territory of Palestine. Being in this area, it becomes daily life to discuss what's going on here - the harassment by the soldiers at the checkpoints (not to me of course, my little white face gets the green light every time. No, it's my co-workers and friends that are stopped), the Palestinians who can't go to Jerusalem ever because they don't have the stamp from the Israeli government allowing it, the families that are woken in the morning to news that their house is being confiscated (in 5 minutes) and they need to leave immediately (due to "rezoning"), the audacity of the U.S., and countries around the world, to turn a blind eye to the illegal actions occurring every day.
It all weighs on you.
But I figured as much when I decided to come. My co-worker and friend Sammy, who's been working with the kids at the House of Hope for 19 years, was telling me yesterday he'd love to come visit Jerusalem with us some time, but it's just not worth it. He doesn't have permission, and I'm not sure why - I don't think he knows either. He explained that if he got caught coming into Jerusalem, he's be fined and then jailed up to 6 months. 6 months in jail because he's Palestinian and he wants to go to Jerusalem (East Jerusalem is technically the West Bank and Palestinian territory, however, it's governed under Israeli jurisdiction so it's no hope for Sammy.)
Beyond the politics of it all, Israeli or Palestinian, everyone I've met has been so kind and welcoming. Mike and I were invited to share a meal with a man Mike met randomly some time ago. He owns a little souvenir shop near the church of the nativity which doesn't make much money, but he's there smiling every day. After he made us food, we went to his shop and instead of letting us buy things from him (things which we were really only buying to support him in return for his hospitality), he gave me a necklace as a welcome present, and then wouldn't take more than 1/2 price for all the things we purchased. He kept saying, 'it is our way, please, take it'. It's always such a striking lesson to see people who are in no position to be generous, being just that. Adnan will forever be a good friend of mine.
Last thought, I will write more about this later - Arabic has become my favorite language. It is full of these wonderfully flavorful saying that are used in every day life such as "bless your hands" said when someone prepares something for you. Or When someone says 'Good morning', the response translates to something like 'the Light!'. And my favorite, 'Stab your eye out!', perfect for yelling at boys who are inappropriate looking up girls walking by.. it's lovely.
I'd post pictures, but the internet isn't letting me..
Go in peace
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Conflict Zone: Geneva
(Introduction: For those of you who don’t know, I have just left the country to spend the next 3 months working in Bethlehem in the West Bank. I’ll be living and working for a Christian school and home for disabled kids. This is the tale of my time getting to Israel and Palestine.)
Last I remember, Switzerland was a land of abundant beauty, delicious chocolate & cheese, and peace; the neutral country. As we filed off the plane, myself and a few others become separated from the pack – due, of course, to our final destination: Tel Aviv. What you wouldn’t know until you attempt travel to Israel is this: any airport providing flights into Israel has a separate wing, separate security, separate regulations in place for their travelers. Myself and the other Tel Aviv bound passengers were brought through another round of security scanning (passed) and a questioning process (interrogation) inquiring or purpose in the country (failed). I’m not sure if I was too smiley or fidgeting like a caught criminal, but the Israeli checkpoint man was not convinced.
He wanted to know what I was doing in Israel, why I was traveling alone, who I knew there.. The conversation to the last question went a little something like this, “Do you know anyone in Israel?”, “Well I met a bunch of Israelis while I was traveling through Central America”, “what are their names?”, “Uh, Adi Simone.. um, sir I don’t know their last names, I just traveled with them, that’s all”. I don’t think he understood because he continued to ask where they live, what they do, etc etc.
From there I was asked how long I was staying in the country (almost 3 months). His response to this was, “How can you afford to take that much time off, you have lots of money in America?” At that point, I explained working and living in South Korea as an English teacher. I have to believe this is what tipped him off that I was a terrorist/anti-Israel fanatic, because he brought my passport over to another lady, they both look up at me as they discuss my possibly impressionable character in Hebrew, and then I was escorted below..
At this point, the man questioning me hands me off to another man who very kindly asks to look through all of my belongings and test everything for explosives (I think? Whatever they are testing when they rub that tissue all over and then stick it into the machine, waiting for the green light that says ‘you’re clear’). Then they asked permission to check through all of my checked luggage as well. So I sat. I sat and thought how odd it was to see a security man walking around with a machine gun in Switzerland. Thirty minutes later when they finished, another man, slightly more important looking, comes over and asks me the same round of questions. I may have looked like a deer in headlights, but apparently I was a deer who kept giving them the same answer because I was eventually told to have a nice trip and was sent on my way.
And when I finally reached Tel Aviv, the passport check asked one question, one time: “what is the purpose of your travel”. And the gentleman at customs asked me one question, one time, simply handed me back my passport and said, “Welcome to Israel”. I’m certainly not complaining, just expressing how odd I thought the order of that experience was. All is well (I guess). I am here, I am alive, I have more freedom as a visitor than any Arab has as a citizen in their own land.
Last I remember, Switzerland was a land of abundant beauty, delicious chocolate & cheese, and peace; the neutral country. As we filed off the plane, myself and a few others become separated from the pack – due, of course, to our final destination: Tel Aviv. What you wouldn’t know until you attempt travel to Israel is this: any airport providing flights into Israel has a separate wing, separate security, separate regulations in place for their travelers. Myself and the other Tel Aviv bound passengers were brought through another round of security scanning (passed) and a questioning process (interrogation) inquiring or purpose in the country (failed). I’m not sure if I was too smiley or fidgeting like a caught criminal, but the Israeli checkpoint man was not convinced.
He wanted to know what I was doing in Israel, why I was traveling alone, who I knew there.. The conversation to the last question went a little something like this, “Do you know anyone in Israel?”, “Well I met a bunch of Israelis while I was traveling through Central America”, “what are their names?”, “Uh, Adi Simone.. um, sir I don’t know their last names, I just traveled with them, that’s all”. I don’t think he understood because he continued to ask where they live, what they do, etc etc.
From there I was asked how long I was staying in the country (almost 3 months). His response to this was, “How can you afford to take that much time off, you have lots of money in America?” At that point, I explained working and living in South Korea as an English teacher. I have to believe this is what tipped him off that I was a terrorist/anti-Israel fanatic, because he brought my passport over to another lady, they both look up at me as they discuss my possibly impressionable character in Hebrew, and then I was escorted below..
At this point, the man questioning me hands me off to another man who very kindly asks to look through all of my belongings and test everything for explosives (I think? Whatever they are testing when they rub that tissue all over and then stick it into the machine, waiting for the green light that says ‘you’re clear’). Then they asked permission to check through all of my checked luggage as well. So I sat. I sat and thought how odd it was to see a security man walking around with a machine gun in Switzerland. Thirty minutes later when they finished, another man, slightly more important looking, comes over and asks me the same round of questions. I may have looked like a deer in headlights, but apparently I was a deer who kept giving them the same answer because I was eventually told to have a nice trip and was sent on my way.
And when I finally reached Tel Aviv, the passport check asked one question, one time: “what is the purpose of your travel”. And the gentleman at customs asked me one question, one time, simply handed me back my passport and said, “Welcome to Israel”. I’m certainly not complaining, just expressing how odd I thought the order of that experience was. All is well (I guess). I am here, I am alive, I have more freedom as a visitor than any Arab has as a citizen in their own land.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
