"If you need a little touch of America, go to the West Bank"

"Hey, want to go to Bethlehem with us?" "SURE!" 

You hear a lot of things about the West Bank. In America, there is an insecurity about this Palestinian land. In Israel, the opinions range, as do those of international students. Our schools and sometimes our families tell us that it is unsafe to go there. I have heard many people say, "The West Bank? Yeah, I'd love to go. But I'm Jewish. And I LOOK Jewish." (I always find that statement funny as I feel like internationals are identified more with their nation than with their religion, especially as the Jewish stereotypes that exist in America are not the exact ones that exist about Israeli Jews.) Other people are very nonchalant about it. I didn't know what to think, but I decided that, regardless, I was going to go. 

I was invited on this trip by a friend who is interning with the UN. He absolutely loves wandering around the West Bank and he served as our tour guide throughout, explaining to us the political tensions, the best places to get fried chicken, and what we should see. 

We boarded a bus at Damascus Gate. An Arab bus. That is really what people call them. Paid our 10 shekels and began to make our way through suburbs of Jerusalem that I have never seen before. All of a sudden, we were surrounded simply by hills with little groupings of houses on top of them. Some of them were settlements, distinguishable in their defiant-neatness. Others were Arab cities, looking much more ramshackle but filled with building materials, as though no one could decide whether they were being built up or torn down. 

The security barrier, which DOES not follow the green line at all.
In some places, it is simply a fence, in others it is a wall, and in
some places it looks like this. The overhang is so that people
cannot shoot down at cars.

As you can see, the Security Barrier cuts through many parts of the West Bank that it is not supposed to. Very clever, if you think about it, but it really, really has hurt the lives of Palestinians. It separates many farmers from their crops, people from their schools and jobs etc. It makes commuting disastrous and frustrating. Israel is taking over more land than it is supposed to regardless of the people whom they are taking the land from. One of the many things that I spent this short trip contemplating. 

Green line = The line drawn in 1949 to demarcate
the difference between Israel and a potential
Palestine. The red line is the part of the security
fence that has been completed. The purple is the part that
is planned, as is the blue.

 The wall has been covered in art and words. This is not a phenomenon isolated in Palestine; art covers many walls in Israel. But it was obvious that the Security Barrier was a very relevant canvas for the people's protests, messages, thoughts, hopes etc.

Arabic is beautiful.





Walls and walls covered in art. It made this potentially depressing place stunning. We wandered into Ida, a refugee camp. It was, we were told, one of the nicer refugee camps. Although things were slightly run down, most things were pretty clean and operational.

Political prisoners. Terrorists, according to Israelis. Freedom
fighters and heroes to Palestinians. 

`

We were in Palestine. There is no arguing with it. People there did not call it the West Bank, they were not Israelis, they were Palestinians and incredibly proud of it. It was shocking to me how many Palestinian flags were everywhere. It is a beautiful flag. 

We were on the outskirts of Bethlehem. The names means "House of Bread" in Hebrew and "House of Meat" in Arabic. The city was originally dedicated to the God of Fertility (Lachama was the Canaanite god of Fertility). We Americans have funny concepts about the term Arab and I find myself constantly reminding myself and others that "Arab" has no connection to a religious affiliation. Bethlehem is 41% Christian and 59% Muslim. 

A rather lovely church we saw when we first arrived. 

"Welcome to Bethlehem. We welcome you on your journey as we
welcomed the Prince of Peace. Pray for the Freedom of Palestine."

So, here we have a very torn area. A very torn Palestinian area, split between Christians and Muslims. An area whose main income comes from the tourists that come to visit around Christmas. The surrounding areas obviously take the majority of their money from this. When we got off the bus we were asked over and over again where we were going, did we know how to get to Mary's Tomb? Did we know how to get to Bethlehem? Did we want a taxi. No, no, no, we replied and started wandering towards Aida, the refugee camp. 

The feeling of in-betweeness permeated the quiet area. The wall was covered with words written in rebellion, in hope, in frustration. But it was a peaceful place. Children were walking home from school, storekeepers were sitting in their doorways, watching the relatively empty streets. Materials were around, easily accessibly for building, but nothing was being built. I couldn't tell if they were trying to repair houses or were trying to tear them down. And above it all flew the Palestinian flag. On the next hill loomed a settlement, pristine and perfect, architecturally secure and smug, lording its sureness over this camp. Ironically, at the end of the day, both are fighting for the right to exist. 

A wall dedicated to commemorating the lives of the
refugees before the arrival of the Israelis.
Each portion that you see is a simple mural, painted
in very basic colors, of the towns that the refugees
came from. 

I often forget how much culture is shared. 

So, Bethlehem is supported by Christmas. Many of its inhabitants celebrate Christmas. The only mosque actually is situated in Manger square, across from the Church of the Nativity, where Jesus was born. Walking down the road, store keepers had begun decorating for their busiest scene, but the city still felt lifeless, despite the cheery lights, red and green. The Christmasy atmosphere that I have been missing so much in the last few days was there, but felt more like a threadbare jacket thrown over the city's tired shoulders. Not to mention the often hilarious mix of Middle Eastern culture thrown into the Christian holiday. These posters were very confusing and, without their holiday decor, might have actually had no connection whatsoever to Christmas!

 We stopped in the first Christmas store that we saw, so excited to see the bright tinsel and twinkling lights. The store keeper was lovely, obviously excited to have a bit of business, and gave us free chocolates. Which were promptly spat out. They must have been from last years stock...

 In 2000, there was a huge push to revamp Bethlehem, to try to make it a touristy hot spot. I'm not sure that it is working, although it of course attracts many people.

Look at this sign!! In Israel, all the signs look like a Hasidic man,
hat and all!
This one so obviously does not, although it is otherwise
exactly the same! 

Did I mention a mix of cultures? There was also a surplus of fried chicken restaurants around, something you NEVER seen in Israel.

Manger Square. There you see the Christmas tree and behind it stores selling knickknacks. 

The only mosque. 

The entrance into the Church of the Nativity. Our tourguide/friend informed us that this door was made so small for two alleged reasons. 1) So that EVERYONE must humble themselves before God, bowing in order to fit through the door. 2) Because people (read: the Crusaders) actually used to try to ride their horses in here. Obviously no horse could fit in this door. Unless it was realllyyyy tiny...

These beautiful mosaics were all over the church. 

Above the place where Jesus was born. The religious people who work there? Rather cranky.

I cannot even describe the beauty of the lights, paintings, scripts, candles etc. The whole place FELT holy. I was getting tingles even while feeling so incredibly torn about being there. I realized standing there that I really do not believe in Christianity (of course that doesn't mean that it wasn't amazing to be there. I sometimes feel that what makes a place holy is the fact that so many people believe it is holy, that they put all their hope and faith in that spot. It fills the air, in a way). I felt so far removed from every religion, in fact. Another thing to contemplate...

The cave where Jesus was born. It was really lovely, actually, it was full of visitors who were so excited to be there. They began singing Christmas carols very quietly and their voices filled the cave. 

Where Jesus was born. I felt very strange touching the star, which is supposed to mark the spot. I did it surreptitiously while we were taking a group picture. It felt wrong, somehow, to do it blatantly, but I felt that I should...

 Setting up the huge nativity. Frighteningly large fake people.

 The sign outside the Catholic church. Have you ever watched a mass broadcasted on Christmas day from Bethlehem. This is where that is filmed. The Palestinian leaders and Christian leaders try to stay on good terms, so they visit one another's houses of worship on holy days.

I had a moment of irreverence when I looked at this stain glass. It is all beautiful and lovely...except the camel, which is so obviously making one of those god-awful sounds that camels do. MWAHHH. 

Something that continued to interest me. Bookstores full of stories about Palestinians, t-shirts, mugs, symbols of peace, Palestinian flags. Somewhat in rebellion, somewhat in supplication; so hopeful, rather sad. An attempt to appeal to the international community to interfere, to stand up, to say something.

A model of Bethlehem. That looked as though it was made out of cheese and old
lunch meat. 

When in Bethlehem, tourists are VERY safe. Although it is in
Area A (under full Palestinian control), there is a large force
of tourist police. Anything that would harm the tourism would
be detrimental to this city. 

We visited a little knickknack shop on a back road. Everything was deserted. The shopkeepers did not even try that hard to get us into their stores, such a shift from the VERY in-your-face shopkeepers that reside in Jerusalem. We talked to the shopkeeper and learned that he has 7 children, 3 of whom are learning English at an American-sponsored school in Bethlehem. He seemed glad to talk to us and enjoyed our company so much that he offered us delicious tea. It was lovely. I felt bad for not buying more than a tiny gift for a friend. I wish him and all the other shopkeepers the best this season!!!

Set up in the middle of Ramallah. To represent the request
that the Palestinians be given a chair in the UN.
By the way, there were no crosswalks. You literally
just stepped into the street and hoped someone would stop.
And they did, rather obligingly, actually. 

After a CRAZY traffic jam, we made it into Ramallah, where we spent literally 15 minutes. Long enough to buy some posters, chat with the very intelligent and worldly shopkeeper and to have our friend point out where we should visit. A man refused to do business with me (I gave him my money, he returned the change to the boy that we were with). Funny that it didn't feel rude, it just was what it was. We were stared at, obviously out of place, although me less so than the other girl that we were with. Staring is obviously a part of that culture.


Got stuck for SO long in the cold at the security barrier. The people behind me obviously just wanted to go home and do their homework or make dinner for their families. What a frustrating way to have to live, being scanned and bringing one's passport back and forth between one's school/job/home. This trip gave me SO many things to think about:
What it means for me to live in Israel, in a place that is controlling this area and making people's lives so difficult. What it means to be part of a nation, to live freely, to be forced to be a refugee. How one speaks out, how one continues to live one's life, how one continues to believe that the world is a good place and one has a future. How does one not become filled with desperation and hate? What does it mean to fight? To be a terrorist versus a freedom fighter? HOW CAN THIS PROBLEM BE SOLVED? And now I am sitting in Jerusalem, living as freely as this city permits at the moment, but freely nonetheless, simply because I am recognizing ISRAEL, not Palestine, here because I am JEWISH, not Palestinian. How did things get so far? How can we fix them!?!??!!??!?