PART 1 - THE OTHER SIDE

I landed late in Tel Aviv –after mid night in 38 degree heat on a holy day where public transport doesn’t run, Friday until Saturday evening. It was 1:30am before I got to the hostel to check in. I asked the man at reception what time my tour left in the morning, and he said which tour? I said “the best of the West Bank” and he replied “half 6”, to which I replied “grim” and he replied “you’re going to the West Bank what do you expect?” I left that there and it was nearer 2 when I was trying to put the sheets on my upper bunk bend without waking everyone up. The upper bunk deserves a mention in itself as it has no edge piece, so I spent the night awake, scared to move, in fear I would fall to my death, though merely rolling over. It was also stifling hot – apparently one of the ladies couldn’t sleep with the air conditioner and fan on, so we all had to die in 38 degree heat that rose. Bearing in mind I had come from shitty miserable London (though I’m told it came good as soon as I left and has been sunny and 27 ever since).  

So on no sleep (was a mixture of too hot to sleep, too scared to roll over and too scared I would miss the alarm that prevented me from sleep), I woke up for my half 6am pickup, it was in my haste of the evening prior to leave the airport, that I remembered I didn’t get any money out. Was super lucky I was befriended by a (I was going to say hot Spaniard, but realised he may read this as we are now facey friends, however for benefit of the story…) named Fernando from Madrid wearing a Stussy T-shirt (cue Stussy sign S in 1990 Grade 1 with Miss Bryce) for the journey, and he paid for me the whole day until I got money out to pay him back.

A brief pick up at Jerusalem, where our Palestinian tour guide joined us. This is rare, as because it was Easter and he is Christian, he was able to meet us on the Israeli side, and go through the check point to Palestine with us.

I must say, I expected more security there and back, but it seemed as we are a bus, and our number plates matched according to whatever regime place we were going to and from, we were exempt. The middle ground is eerie. Barbed wire and war like. In case you can’t be bothered Wiki-ing: ‘the West Bank is an area of 5,628 square kilometres, which comprises 21.2% of former Mandatory Palestine (excluding Jordan) and has generally rugged mountainous terrain. The total length of the land boundaries of the region are 404 kilometres.’ The area is divided in to three areas:

• Area A: 18% of the West Bank exclusively administered by Palestinian Authority
• Area B: 22% of the West Bank and home to 2.8 million Palestinians, administered by both the Palestinian Authority and Israelis, this area is being geared up to be handed over to the Palestinian people.
• Area C: all other areas totalling more than 60% under full Israeli civil and security control this area is restricted for any Palestinian development. This area was supposed to be handed back in part, and basically Israel reneged on the agreement and since 1999 the population has increased from minimal numbers to more than double at 350k, interestingly it is also the home to many of the natural resource – perhaps its best if you carry on the research from here... 

Ramallah

We started the morning Ramallah. Described as the ‘modern, vibrant, cultural capital’ of the West Bank, I’m not entirely convinced by the modernity however was impressed to see there was a KFC (culture). It was then I asked Fernando if there was a Maccas. (My query was later answered at the West Bank Wall where the graffiti artist had created my favourite piece inscribed with “When McDonalds is on the other side of the wall of your outdoor prison… Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.”) 

Yassar Arafats tomb

Enroute we stopped at the tomb of Yassar Arafat. This is a sacred place to the Palestinians…. (apparently as we were told they line up and fill the tomb)…however when we were there, we were the only ones there, except for machine gun hot guard man! Now apart from googling afterwards and the one sided version I heard from our guide, all I remembered of Mr Have a fat (sorry had to be done!) was the man who wears the towel on his head and a picture came to mind where he was shaking the hand of an Israeli politician in front of Bill Clinton. The USA and France are my equal favourites to hate when it comes to politics. Without going in to great detail I believe this picture to be very relevant as both those men won Nobel Peace prizes in 1994, before Arafat was held for 34 months by the Israeli military in his compound/ almost martyred. The French have a memorial in France in honour of Arafat... Of course they do. They also have a memorial in honour of the 9/11 victims. I wonder if they should build a memorial for the Aborigines…oh wait, there is no political motive to. You see, that is why I can’t stand France and politics.   

Jericho

More bus time before heading to Jericho/ aka. the/ or one of the/ oldest places on earth, Jericho has walls dating back to 9,000BC. It is certainly one of the hottest places I’ve been to (and thank the lord, literally it was a cooler day)… The whole time in my head I was thinking about Jericho from the WWE’s “Break the walls down” (insert crying with laughter emoji). It was amazing to see the Mount of Temptation from below. For those playing along, that is said to be where Jesus was tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:8). I was most in awe by the little city etched out in the mountains.

Next we went to Qasr-el-Yahud, the ancient baptism site of Jesus on the banks of the Jordan River. Here to my hilarity we were 5 meters from the Jordanian border, which was a pool lane separator thing. I didn’t get in my white gear and dunk my head in to feel re-born, though I did put my feet in to the muddy water and say a prayer to Nonna. In fact, she was on my mind constantly. The water was delightfully cool against my skin and I’m glad to say my post easter sins are now gone since my feet were baptised. 

Next off we went to the city of Jesus’s birth, Bethlehem. Here, I saw my favourite Banksy piece of a Palestinian extremist throwing flowers on the side of the Walled off Hostel. 

The first thing you notice about Bethlahem is the rubbish everywhere. I was told that the rubbish tip is located in Area B which is in the Israeli dominated mixed zone, and there is a charge for each tonne of rubbish. Again, I’m hearing one side, I will try and explain the other side in more detail in the next blog. The first stop was the Church of Nativity, here it is said Jesus was born. To say I felt close to my home boy is an understatement. I couldn’t stop feeling tingly and thinking of my Nonna, who spent her life believing but never got to see. I didn’t bother to line up to see the cave or grotto that is marked by a silver star as there was a couple of hours line; however we did peek a boo from an adjacent cave that led to that place, from the 15^th Century Church of St Catharine next door, a beaut in herself. The church of Nativity itself has been restored to its former glory and you can tell how beautiful it once was, lots of gold mosaics cover the walls, and mosaic tiles are shown from the original building from the 6^th century. 

Finally we walked through the old city, adjacent to the separation barrier seeing the graffiti art of the likes of Banksy and my local man Lushsux. Our tour guide informed us that the wall was a segregation wall, status wall, the like. It shows supremacy. It was daunting to see the sheer mass of the wall – I would estimate 30meters tall; with guard towers. Ironically it reminded me of the war camps I had visited in Germany, and made me wonder whether we had indeed learnt from our mistakes of the past. I don’t know if I’m reminded of the hunger games or my dear own country that imprisons many seeking asylum on foreign land. I have started to lose faith in humanity and all I care to say is that my belief it that ‘hate breeds hate’. Locking up the majority in hope you are locking up terrorists, makes the general majority that are suppressed become spiteful of their treatment. Generations that are born in to this will be bred with more hatred and dissolution.  But hey, my little blog won’t be the saviour of many. And I will try my best to convey the other opinion in my PART2 BLOG: THE SIDE.

Many people told me or asked me to be safe in the West Bank. If I’m honest I never felt unsafe while I was there, I felt more unsafe at breakfast in Tel Aviv when a plain clothed young man brought his machine gun to breakfast.  I nearly said something, i.e. is it really necessary to bring your machine gun to brunch? I mean this brings me back to part of the reason I felt unsafe in Egypt – who polices the police? Palestine was certainly an eye opener and I am super glad I went and saw it.

Lushsux 

That night I reconvened with the Spaniard – Fernando and we went and bought beers at the off licence and went to the beach to watch the sun set, we then went to have dinner and had cocktails at the Tacorea and drinks on the roof at our hostel where we met some more Spaniards and the Aussie Nowra born Prague living tour guide I went on to hang out with the next night. Was a great ending to a tiring, draining and humid night.