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.

Kids

The gems that come out of their mouths might make the long days just worth it...

"Teacher what is my name?"
"Stephanie"
"Very good teacher. But now I go by Step."
"Oh, okay Steph"
"No no, STEP. It's short for Stephanie (duh)"

later she came up to me and holding out papers says, "Teacher, again?"
I look at her completely confused.. "What?"
waving the paper, "again?"
"Step, I have no idea what you are talking about"
She furrows her brows and purses her lips thinking how to resay it... "nevermind" and walks away.
I later came to find out she wanted to know if I wanted to RECYCLE the paper and use it again. I guess I should have picked up on that one.


"Class what is an adjective?", I ask.
"a word that decorates a noun" (a boy in one of the upper level classes)
I told him he couldn't be more correct

Where's Waldo

I'm not sure what it is that keeps me participating in my blog some days/months, and completely unattached others. This has obviously been a bout of long separation - longer than I intended.
It is now just 2 weeks that I am home. 2 weeks from this very moment. In fact, at this time on the 20th, I will perhaps be passed out in my old familiar bed, or wired, sit shell-shocked in front of my TV. I can't imagine I'll have too much to say -- how do you answer a question that asks you to sum up an entire year's experience? "What was your favorite part?", they'll ask. "What will you miss most?", or "How is it being home?". Questions that will no doubt leave my head spinning. It's hard to crystallize the 365 past days. To me, they have been daily life. Wake up, work, come home, make dinner, socialize maybe, run? sleep -- A routine I slipped into within the first 30 days. Perhaps when asked what my favorite part was, I'll respond instead with, "You tell me what your favorite part was", "Of what?", "Your entire last year"...
Better is 'How has this experience changed you?', 'What have you learned?'. The answers to these, still a bit foggy, will at least be honest.
I learned that I am lucky to have grown up in America. Not because it's the land of opportunity or some other bullshit tagline someone made up, but because of the 'melting pot' or 'salad bowl' it truly is. I had no idea how lucky I was to be brought up understanding diversity to be such an ordinary thing. People from all over the world only sharing the same name on their passport (possibly). Diversity being ordinary. Wow.. I haven't felt that way in about a year..
secretly I'm excited to walk down the street and blend in (read: walk down a street where no one looks the same) To once again live in a world of Where's Waldo, where it takes more than a glance to find the American dude with glasses, a beanie, and a striped shirt.