From my Broken Heart to yours: Ana Gaza, Inti Gaza Part 1

The first morning, I watched clutching my robe, my heart struggling to beat, hot tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I watched, paralyzed by the image of bombs dropping, of fathers running, carrying bloody children in their arms. I watched and felt so powerless.

It still amazes me, even though I know it's nothing new, that the media in the US can be so one-sided. It's appalling to me that they don't use their journalistic and investigative skills to look at the root cause. It is right for Israel to only "defend" itself? Why is it not okay for Palestinians to defend themselves? And why hasn't the Israel gov't said the truth about how many folks Hamas hasn't hurt with their retaliation? What is wrong with showing the truth? The truth is, is that we are all in the wrong. But why is Palestine only to blame? How is it that Israel can exist, can do these crimes and not be tried for them?

I wonder and think back to riding the 18 bus from Ramallah to Jerusalem. Several times, I road back and forth between the West bank to Jerusalem. Being accosted by young soldiers with M-16's who were hot and bored and had itchy trigger fingers.

I road in silence, trembling with the desire to say something of substance when they'd harass young mothers, other foreigners, teenagers who were equally bored or scared or frustrated with concrete walls and in guns in their faces. I remember, closing my eyes as hot tears burn the backs of eye lids, the french man who may have been imprisoned, if not for the boredom of the soldiers who finally found it unappealing to bother him on the bus. I remember back to watching, less than 6 inches from my face, an M-16, with trembling tiny fingers pointing in my direction as I tried to pass from one side of the country to the other.

Lets take a look at history and simplify it if we can. Lets say that you lived in a house a very very long time ago and it's been sold/given away and other generations have lived there. Other families doing just fine. And they know you're going through a hard time and are saying, "Okay, you're having a hard time, you can come and stay with us for a little while if you like," and their response is, "We're not going to stay for a little while, we're going to stay and you can go live in the dog house in the backyard and you can only go ten feet out on each side of the dog house and nothing more. And if you move, we'll shoot you." That's the situation in a nutshell. Of course there were Jews in the country already, but no one was trying to kick other folks out of their houses or off their lands.

I think back to my cousins and aunts and uncles not being able to leave the West Bank and see all the things I got to see in person. And being searched, having their bags looked in, having their trunks turned upside down, having their children scared.

I wanted to go to Gaza, but the farther south you go, the worse the soldiers are, the more security there is. No one rides the bus to the last stop I've heard. No one hardly dares unless they're with the news or an organization in their own car and even then, you need permission way in advance.

Human nature shows that when put between a rock and a hard place, you're going to want to fight back. You're going to push back against that rock because you're not going to sit there and get crushed. If someone, for example, from NY was only allowed to go from 14th street to 42nd street and only 125th when the Mayor felt like it and no where else and searched all the time, have your lights and water cut off periodically, be treated like an animal, you'd want to lash out too.

Palestinians and other Arabs alike didn't just start bombing and fighting out of no where. This didn't just HAPPEN because of boredom or evilness or Islam. This didn't just happen for no reason. Palestinians are fighting the way the Jews fought to stay alive during the holocaust. The Israels are treating Palestinians the same way they were treated. Just as a child abused might grow up and abuse their children.

So Israel can defend itself and Palestine can't? I don't condone either side. There shouldn't be any fighting. But there is. I just want folks to see why. Its not one-sided. Its not the mighty innocent Israel taking out those bad Palestinians. It's a genocide and a Palestinian Holocaust. Tell it like it is. For real and stop worrying about being PC. And why should Americans care? Because its our tax dollars that are paying for the weapons that Israel is using.

I know that some don't agree. That when they think Palestinian, they think terrorist, dirty, crazy Muslims, screaming women, evil men, exotic land. But Palestine, to me, is home. Is the beauty of the curves my cousins lashes make above her eyes. Is the fascination my uncle, my fathers younger brother, had in showing me every religious site for every religion in Bethlehem. Is the rise and fall of the voice of young men during morning prayers. Is the love I felt from every Palestinian I encountered. Palestine is home. It is love. It is the pump of blood and winding vitality streaming through me. And it hurts deeply to know that so many haven't gotten a chance and will never get a chance to see what I saw when I went to visit my family.

My next trip

I decided tonight that I'm going to travel for 6 months after my next trip to Palestine in August. I thought about everything I saw while in Palestine. All the history, all the things I learned, all the things I experienced, all the pictures, all the people I met walking around and seeing things.

I'll just have to REALLY save money during this season, which shouldn't be hard since I've paid off most of my debt, I'm not moving, there aren't too many crisis' going on. Should be possible over the 6 months of the season to save enough for my ticket to get to Palestine and then enough to slum it around several countries. I also want to try and go see my uncle in Bulgaria. He's my dad's brother and he's the only one I haven't met yet. Plus, I'll have finished my book already AND hopefully it'll be on it's way if not published already and there will be some money from that.

So maybe mid-August to mid Feb or something and I'll be back in time for the season to start up again so I'll have work.

So I think this is what I want to do:

Start in Palestine and see more things there. My brother and sister should be coming with me in August to see the fam for a couple weeks and once they go back to NYC, I'll head down to Egypt for a few weeks and see all the pyramids and ancient sites and go see some of the artists, writers, poets and hip hop folks there, then come back up to Palestine and see the northern part of the country that I didn't get to see a lot of while I was there, like Haifa, Nablus, and Nazareth. Then head up to Lebanon (if it's safe enough) and then head over to Turkey. If Lebanon isn't safe enough, I might fly to Turkey. I'll travel through Turkey and check out the sites and after Istanbul, I'll head over to Bulgaria and see my uncle for a couple weeks. After Bulgaria, it might be up the air. I could either head south and go to Greece or head North to Romania or Serbia. I think though I'd prefer to check out Greece because there are some amazing things in Athens and Patra. If I go to Greece first, I can head up to Macedonia, then to Serbia (traveling through Kosovo) and maybe up to Hungary and then to check out Budapest after that. OR After Macedonia, I could fly to Italy since it's sort of around the corner, but would be far to just walk to across the land. Southern Italy shares water with Albania which is right next to Patra, so it would be close from there too.

I would actually love to after Egypt to go south into the rest of Africa, but if I'm traveling alone, I don't know how safe it is to try and go all the way down to South Africa especially since Chad and Sudan are right there. The rest of Africa would be so amazing to see though. It would be just as special as Palestine for me. But maybe going back north After Egypt would be best. I could always travel again later on and go south.

So if I make it through all of that and want to go by Italy after Greece, I might (depending on how long all of this takes me) go to France. It's right there and I think it would be fun. If I go up to Paris, I might head to London after. If I go south, I'd probably hit up Spain. I think I would probably do the Spain thing because then I could go to Morocco after, kind of doing a half circle and ending back up in Northern Africa. By then I think 6 months may have passed. If not, I might go through to Northern Algeria, Tunisia and Libya since they're there and I'd end up back in Egypt if I wanted or could leave from one of those other places and come back home. Or go back to Palestine to say by to my family and head back to NY. Of course I'd have to decide before hand where I'd be flying back from.

Whew!

I know it's a very ambitious trip. People backpack all across Europe all the time. This is pretty similar I think. Or maybe it's just insane. Maybe it's too much. Maybe. Or maybe it'll be the most amazing time of my life. I know people in Egypt, Turkey, Bulgaria, France and of course Palestine. I can make some friends in other places before I go there through friends there who do international work in those countries. All I need is a backpack with my stuff and my camera. I'll do all the research I need to do to research it. I'll sublet my apartment while I'm gone. I'll make sure I have enough medication and know where all the hospitals are. I'll bring my laptop to keep in touch with people. Find out where the small hotels are or find friends to stay with. I don't know if there's anyone I could find to go with me, BUT I think it'll be amazing. Maybe 6 months is too long. Maybe 2 or 3 months. I'll be back to write while I'm away. See history.

I think it would be something great and amazing to do after I turn a quarter century old :). We'll see what I can make happen. We'll see where the world is in August. We'll see where my life is in several months as well.

I've been writing. I'll be writing more on here soon.

Much love

Reason 5,582 that it's better to live other places than it is to live in the US

I mean, of course we have these so called "freedoms" in the US, right. But even in that, we're not. Who is completely free anywhere? No one.
You say something against Israel, the government or a taking serious action to make change in a certain crowd or even in the internet or on your phone, and you're a terrorist, unpatriotic or a whiny liberal. WTF?

BUT this post isn't so much about the political commentary that can be had with words. This is about another kind of warfare put on to us. It's about food warfare. Every time I've gone out of the country, I notice it and every time it makes me so sick.

How come the US is the only country that continues to put poisons in our foods? I mean, of course people should do their best to stay away from processed foods, from sodas, from juices, etc that have transfat, high fructose corn syrup, aspartame, etc. Of course. But people won't always do that.

So you might say that they are getting what they deserve then.

Well how come I can eat a cookie, drink soda/juice, have some chips, etc in Palestine or Mexico or Brazil (because those are the places out of the country I've been) and not have to worry about any of the above? More importantly, how is it that some of these things are made in the same factories that ship all around the world and have different ingredients?

Just proves even more than the folks who are really in charge in the US don't want us to be healthy. They want for us (and I don't mean the elite, I mean the working class) to be sick and then not have health insurance and put more money into the pockets of the pharmaceutical companies.

Just makes me so mad and makes me wish that not only that folks read labels more carefully, but that they took more care as to what they put into their bodies in the US. Here, no one really worries about the foods they buy in the store. Aside from folks taking into too much sugar (natural kind) or cigarettes (which is a problem that is 3 times as bad here than it is in the US because EVERYONE --men and some women-- spokes at least 2 packs a day!), they don't have to worry about other poisons in their foods. Well that and they eat more nuts, olives/olive oil and probiotics than most Americans. It's the so called "Mediterranean" diet. And having a dinner like meal for lunch, rather than later in the evening.

Aside from the evils of the Israeli government towards Palestinians, things are pretty amazing here.

Too bad I have to go back to High fructose Trans fat land in 2 days.

Lucky for me I stay away from the bad crap. Except for too much caffeine... ;/ I drink way too much coffee. Eh well. What can ya do. I'm human.

Having a career and being a mother is haram?

In Palestine, like many other countries in the Mid-East and Africa (or even folks from those countries who are in the US), the role of the Mother is very important. She takes care of everything her child(ren) need. In Palestine, most people are married by at least 21 or 22. And they stay married 95% of the time. Divorce doesn't happen here much. Not because of being forced to stay though.
As my cousin Shyma explained, there are people in place to help mediate at every juncture of the marriage. She's one of those people. She's not a therapist or a lawyer. She's a nurse. But because she's the head staff nurse at 2 large clinics and a hospital (she shares her time between them), she has a lot of interaction with the women who come. She doesn't do the medical stuff with them and their children. She talks to them about their lives, their problems. How to best work things out. That's how many people work things out here. And it works.

She has many young mothers come through (pediatrics is her specialty, but she works with the mothers as well as people too) to help them deal with being a mother because so many of them just got married or have been married for a while and now have a baby to take care of and although they have the help of their families, they don't feel like they are up to being mothers. Sound familiar? Only here, someone will help you. You won't be left high and dry to just work it out. And people helping you actually care. I guess that's the difference between social work in the US and social work here. The people have BEEN directly affected by the issue and so they know what it's like. As opposed to so many Social Workie folks in the US who have no idea what its like and start to not care.

The problem though with this now is that my cousin is being there for all these women and working a lot. She's at home still, doing things, but with very limited she. She also has a 2 1/2 year old and 4 year old. She's there for them as much as she can be. But she also wants to do her job. Her kids are at my aunts house, their grandmothers, after school when she's done teaching so it's no problem and then my cousin picks them up. She'll hang out here and then go home. She says her husband use to never help out, but now he helps a little bit. It would be one thing if she wasn't working full time AND helping her father with his driving school, but she is. In the US, it's "Normal" behavior if you're working a lot for whatever reason and someone else has to watch your kids, you do what you have to do and spend some time with them. Here that's no acceptable. My aunt says it's a sin. It's a sin to have a demanding career and kids and have to sacrifice some time? Hm. Perhaps, but it's reality. She's trying to save up to build a house. That's going to take work. She's going to have to sacrifice some time. And besides, that's what grandma's are for, right? I'm sure if it was up to my cousin, she would have waited a little while longer to get married. She's 26. She's been married 4 years. They don't really do birth control here. Of course she could get some since she's a nurse, but like the Catholics, it's grow and prosper here.

And don't get me wrong. She loves her kids and her husband. She was in love with him before they got married, so it wasn't like a random forced marriage. They went to college together. He graduated 2 years before her, but they kept in touch. He went to her dad and asked to marry her and they said to wait until she graduated and they did. She was grateful that her father did that. She probably would have never finished school if she got married at 19. She probably would have had more children and not following her dreams.

She feels the stress though,as any young mother would, to have her children and her job. To not get burnt out from doing both full time and trying to make a house. Of course it's harder when her husband wont cook or clean. It makes it harder. But hell, that's not new. That's been the role play for a long time all over the place. Of course in the US, if the dad sticks around, it can possibly be more of a partnership.
I told her to talk with him. She has. He's better than he used to be, she says.
I told her that sometimes with men that come from this kind of thinking, you have to trick them into doing more. She agreed. It just is the way it is. What can she do?
She said that things were nice, all lovey before they got married and when they first got married and then after a bit of time, she saw that he was different than she though and he saw that she was different than she thought. Sounds familiar, but for different reasons. In the US, folks say it's because "people change" after marriage in terms of what they want and commitment and all that. Clearly folks aren't spending enough time with each other, living with each other, knowing each other BEFORE they get married. But in my cousins instance, it's more like he thought she'd be a submissive yes sir wife who would above all put her family before her career and do everything for him on hands and knees...or something along those lines. And she thought he was the perfect guy, who would do romantic gestures all the time and help her, not treat her like a servant and then be a more active father once the kids came. They both had a fantasy that wasn't very close to reality and after 4 years of marriage, they are learning that they're going to have to really work with each other and be a partnership...even if it still won't be equal, it's better than it use to be. Hopefully it'll continue to get better for her.

Why is it a bad thing to have your career and your family? Sometimes it's gonna be hard. Sometimes you're going to spend more time at work, than with your kids. Any young adult trying make a better life for their family is going to go through this. She's not rich. She has to work for what she needs to do. If she wants to send her kids to college. If she wants to build a house (folks don't really buy houses here... they buy a plot of land and build a house on it...it's waaaaaaay less expensive to do all of that than it will ever be to buy a house in the US...crazy huh?)

Just wanted to write about that a bit.

I'm getting distracted, so I'll leave it that that.

Thurs Oct 23rd in Jerusalem and then some

Today I went to the Orthodox Russian Church of Mary Magdalene, to the birth place of the Virgin Mary and to her Tomb. I wanted to do more walking to other sites and churches, but today I was just too tired.
This morning I felt so tired but like I could handle it. And on the bus ride into Jerusalem, I started feeling a bit nauseated, but felt better when I got off the bus and starting walking and getting some fresh air. But I just dragged and dragged once I had to climb up hill and then down to get to the Churches. Definitely wasn't even a quarter of what I did Tues but I still felt it.
I guess I didn't get a good enough rest last night. I would have just left and went back to my Aunts casa, but I'm seeing Nihaya's mom today so I need to stay in the area.

So I'm in a cafe getting a snack so I don't fall over. Maybe I didn't eat enough this morning for all this walking. Then again I felt full. I think my body has had it's fill of white flour khubbuz. Maybe it's time for some wheat or whole grain if I can get it, but I doubt it. Maybe just no khubbuz at all. LAH KHUBBUZ!!!!

I'll use my hands instead.

That's what'll make you fat. All that damn bread. Ha! I say that as I eat a bit more with my hummus and tabouli! I'm glad I've been walking up and down so many hills and mounts.

5 more days until I'm back in NYC. I almost can't believe a month passed and I've seen all this stuff and there's still so much more to see. I wonder what else I can see before I go? Not sure where else I can go? I've got 70 Shekels left. That's like $20 or so. I can go to the party tonight for 40 Sheks. Fri not so much goes on because its sabbath. Sat I may go to my cousins. And sun and mon? I don't know. Going some where will cost more money. Maybe there's a show I can go to or just hang with my cousins or do more writing. I don't want to have to take money out of the bank since when I get back the first of the month is days away.

Gotta get back to reality now. Real life. Yay!

Maybe I'll just hang out with my cousins. I'm sure my Uncle also wants me to come back to Beit Rima for a day or 2 and that doesn't cost anything....except a bit of sanity...


I also wonder what I'll be thinking once I go back to the US. I wonder if the peace and connection to whatever higher power will last. It's not as if connections with God are severed across the world. I just live in a place where slowing down isn't always an option and in the bustle of living, you forget your peace. Get lost in your caffeine and don't know how to get back to connect.

I hope I can still stay connected. I hope to not get so lost in the shuffle that I lose the peace I've acquired over this month.

What's interesting though s that I haven't really been working on my self reflecting book. I've been writing in my other story. Doing these blogs. Writing emails to folks. But when writing about my life in the book I was working on, I sort of haven't felt compelled to write anything about it. Not sure why. Maybe I've done enough self reflecting in my blogs and in myself to feel sated on the need to do it. Who knows. All the writing I've done though is enough to add to the book for later anyway and to point it into the direction and the theme of what the book is about.

I also realized that I still didn't get too much more info on my dad. Maybe thats also something I can do this weekend. Grill my aunt and uncle on information on my dad. That'll inspire me to write. As hard as it will be to do, I'll do it.
I think it'll make the bond and connection to the peace I've gotten a bit of be stronger while I'm back in NY.

Jerusalem Day 3/Mt of Olives

I climbed a mountain on Tuesday! It's not like the way other mountains can be. Along it's slopes are churches, houses, schools, tombs, graves and lots and lots of Trees. Olive Trees.
After being exhausted from my trek around Jerusalem on Monday, I got up pretty late. I planned on getting up early again around 7:30am but didn't really get up until 10:30am or so. Was just so tired. And I didn't get to Jerusalem until about 1pm. That was a bad move. A lot of the stuff on the Mount is opened earlier in the day. Then closes for a few hours, then may or may not open again in the afternoon. So I have to go back on Thursday morning to see what I want to see during the morning hours.

I climbed the mount, feeling the joints and bones in my legs, my knees, my body, popping and bending in pain. BUT I went on. I felt that it was what I needed to do. Cab drivers asked if I wanted a ride up, but I knew I had to walk it. I'm glad I did.

I saw an amazing view of the Dome of the Rock, of the Churches and of the lands from on top of the Mount. The higher I got, the better the view and the more I saw. It was amazing. I took pictures every step of the way. It was a hard walk and at times I thought I couldn't go on, but I did. The walk is very steep so that you must bend over as you walk up the hill and bend back walking slowly as you come down.

Along the way, I saw the Tombs of the Prophets, The Jewish grave yard, the Church of the Ascension, The Church of All Nations, the Garden of Gethsemane, the Church of Dominus Flevit, the Church of Pater Noster, and passed along the Church Mary Magdalene which I have to visit later because it was closed when I got there. Yeah, I saw a lot. All of this is on the Mount of Olives, along the way up.

Each time I go some place new, I stop, say a prayer and look at the sites. It's amazing how large everything is. All the way up at the top, past the Pater Noster, the Church of Ascension sits. Yousef one of the men who stays by the door welcomes me to come anytime. The church is closed, but he let me in to the grounds to look at the garden and the outside. I'm a Palestinian and I'm Beit Rima. He must let me in, he says. He must welcome me. I feel good that it's finally good thing to be a Palestinian.

Down at the base of the mount is where the Church of All nations is and where the garden of Gethsemane lie. I look into the garden where the oldest Olive trees in the entire country are. They date farther than 2,000 years. The olives grow thick and green. They are uneaten. Unpicked. I look off down the path and image where Jesus and his apostles sat together their last night. I can almost see them, how they seem to me in my mind, different from the images I've seen. Jesus sitting, looking at them, talking, before his arrest.

The view and the day climbing up and down the mountain was amazing. Although I was completely exhausted and in pain by the end of the day, it was well worth it. Took me a while, but it was okay. I felt blessed to have been able to make the journey.

(Writing from that night)

Now I sit in a restaurant across from the bus station eating chicken and mushrooms and drinking the local Taybeh beer. It's a lot like bass, but plainer. I had a very long day of walking. I can hardly sit up. I forgot to eat today since the morning. So I had to get something.

There are so many different people to look at in here. A woman reading and marking papers. Looking very much like an American Librarian. Short brown hair. Plain black glasses. Plain black suit and gray and white shirt. Drinking Lipton. Very skinny. Could hide and never be noticed. Not ugly. Just nothing extraordinary.

An American couple is sitting off to the other corner. They are in their 60's. The wife is sipping red wine, while her husband is having a beer. Old tats lay across his forearms. Now gray hairs and glasses are what are more noticeable on his face. His was is very plain. Dim brown hair and eyes, hiding behind very big glasses. Their accents are very Minnesota. But they might even be Canadian. The man keeps looking at me and nodding hello. I smile and keep writing.

Sprinkled about are friends and couples, smoking argilla. The scent is sweet and intoxicating, even for those around that aren't smoking it. The waiters rather stand around with each other and be silly than bring you a menu or take your order, but the ambiance and vive is nice. Trees grow out and around in this half in door half outdoor place by the entrance of the Jerusalem hotel. Large trees on the outside grow leaves and veins long and strong enough to covre the roof so that as you look up, you see beautiful greens and browns stitched into the green metals of the roof. You feel almost like you're in a tropical place.

It's gotten cold. The sun is down. I see an older bohemian Italian couple that I'd seen up on the mount. They are with new friends, speaking Italian and smoking argilla. It reminds me of my last trip into the Yucatan with Dave when we hung out with a couple from Seattle that was staying at the same hotel. They were really sweet. Dave had been mean to me most of the time, which he apologized for later. It makes me think of how different it is exploring a new place with someone else and then exploring alone. Makes my journey even sweeter.

Now they play Um Kalthoom the great in the back round. Ya Habibi, she says. Its getting colder.

A wave of folks go out. It's empty.

A wave of folks come in. It's full again.

The guard cat walks about. A gray, black and white fellow with a skinny face. He watches. He walks. He waits. He comes near people, but won't let you touch him. The older American/Canadian couple sees him.

"We saw him this morning. He's their guard cat." the man says.

I smile and nod.

A black woman with long black hair smokes argilla and waits for her friends. One of them comes and sits and they talk. She's a very full figured woman in a white shirt with blue horizontal stripes. Her hair is in a short ponytail. She could afford to lose a little weight. She's all smiles. The other one comes. She's a petite Arab woman with long hair and a big smile. They hug for a long time and continuously kiss each other on the cheek. They are close friends.

A blond man comes and orders a coke. He knew the bartender. The bartender was a student at the college he teaches at. 3 European folks come in. They speak English to one another. They also know the young blond man as they are professors as well. They talk about a course on Hamas. They talk about a course on Palestinian studies. They also know the bartender.

The argilla fills the air. The Hooka refill boy walks around the tables to put more in the pipes. The coals are hot. They warm me as he passes by.

One of the professors walks to talk to the bartender. Another waiter there is also another student they know.

I sit back and smile as I drink my Taybeh. I feel sated again. Another day of time well spent. I could sit and people watch and write about them all day. Yes, time well spent. Can't beat time well spent.

Jerusalem Day 2 Part 2

We drove along the streets of Jerusalem, on our way to the central bus station. It's a small area where a lot of buses cram together to get folks to where they need to go across the country. We arrived and I pointed the Frenchmen into the direction they needed to into for the bus to the airport. I got off on the last stop after all and walked back down to the way I'd gone before.

I walked along to the Old City, entering by Jaffa Gate. There are no gates, you see. It's all stoned entrance and ground and walls, surrounding you. There are very few openings to the sky as you walk along the marketed stone streets in the Old City. It's once you get to the sites by the churches and such that you feel how bright the sun is and feel its warmth on your skin.

I decided Monday not to use a map or to go with a program. I just played it by ear. And it was the best thing I ever did. As I walked along, I remembered little streets and vendors that I had seen before. I remembered where my Aunt's brothers restaurant was, I remembered the little Ethiopian monastery I passed before. I remembered

I went up the same steps I had gone before to see the Ethiopian Monastery. I had seen a lot if before, but I had a feeling I missed some things. So I retraced my steps and found some new things. A path down to a basement, filled with water. It was a black cave, full of slipper slick rock. Water pooled down at the bottom. A guide far down below was telling some people that every church in Jerusalem had one. I don't remember hearing him say exactly why. I walked back up out of the small dark space and up into the light of one part of the church. I went and sat in another part of the church I hadn't been in before. The pulpit part was gated off, but benches lined the outside so that one could sit and pray. One of the monks sat by the gate, watching folks come and go. I sat there for a while in front of the gate and said a prayer. I really saw what was there. Felt what was there. Knew that I was supposed to be there.

The monk wore a long black tunic/coat like thing and a black hat. His black beard was full. His brown cheeks were round. His eyes were shiney and happy. His smile went all the way up to his eyes. It was genuine. Real. For some reason, the monk was moved by my presence. He sat up, paying attention now and said a little prayer with me. He couldn't sit next to me, but he was close. Was still all smiles. Maybe was surprised that a single young woman was coming around and not just taking pictures, but taking the time to really see and feel the places she visited in the holy land. Maybe.

Once I got up to leave, he smiled at me again. Full and peaceful. Made me give him a full smile. When I exited the door, I was surprised. I was next to the entrance of the Sepulchre. I hadn't realized that this was right next to it. I went back into the church that I had gone into before. But I felt like there were still more things I hadn't seen before. When you enter the churches massive doors, the first thing you see immediately in front of you is the stone they washes Jesus on after he was crucified. I looked around and saw that it wasn't as crowded as it had been the time I came before. I went and took more pictures of the stone. This time though, I went down on my knees and placed my hands on it. It was as if the cold stone's life sent shock waves through the rest of me. I closed my eyes and said a little prayer for guidance as I touched the stone. I touched my head and face and felt the need to weep. I let myself cry and really feel what was going on.

I stayed for a long time in the church this time. I really wanted to see all there was to see and really look at what I saw before with more than just my physical eyes. I was glad I did. My interal map lead me to see things I hadnt seen before. To experience as I hadn't before.

I walked about some more once I left the Holy Sepulchre. I walked in a few circles, trying to find an open space where coffee shops and food were. I had been walking for a long time and hadn't eaten since early in the morning AND my aunt ran out of coffee so I had filled up on tea hoping to get a hint of energy. I found a little spot called Geo's espresso cafe where all the men who worked there smiled at me, looking at me so hard they burned holes in my head, hoping I'd spark a conversation. I didn't. :) Would it have gotten me free coffee? Maybe. But a buck for a shot of good expresso isn't a bad deal, so I kept to myself. Besides, any time I looked them straight in the eyes, they'd look away. Every time. All over Palestine, the muslim men do that every time. The only time they hold eye contact is when I pass by in a car. No way of stopping to ask them what the hell they're looking at. In any event, I wasn't really in a talking mood anyway. I was in a watching mood. So I sat with my yummy espresso and people watched for 15mins to get back some energy. German and Russian touristas in bright orange and yellow hats passed me by. I took a moment to write an email, watched some more people walk by and kept it moving.

I hadn't realized before that Canaries line the shops and restaurant walls here in the closed stone walls of the Old City. To ensure natural gas leaks that folks can't smell don't poison them. The bird lives, everyone lives.

My Aunt Maha's brother Mahmoud remembered me from the 1st time I came to his restaurant. He's tall and olive complected. Looks a lot like some of my other uncles. He has name brand wire rimmed glasses over kind brown eyes. Thinning brown hair and a happy smile. He works had at his restaurant. Al Aelat. The food was goof the last time, so I came back, not wanting to buy over priced falafel thats been sitting in the sun. I learned my lesson in Jericho that 2 kinds of falafel will tear you a new one with a 2-day hole in your stomach. Falafel thats been sitting in the sun all day OR falafel that hasn't been cocked all the way through. Wasn't gonna chance it.

The place was semi-quiet or at least more quiet then the first time I went. 4 muslim women dressed very colorfully have coffee in the corner. A European couple with 2 small children speaking Hebrew and polish eat schnitzel and drink coffee. An Australian woman works out a way to buy a good hookah pipe using the resources of one of the cooks she talked to. They sat, smoked cigarettes, talking about argilla and the world.

As I finished the last of my shawarma, I feel sated. Not just on food, but on what I'd done with my time here. Time well spent is always satisfying.

Mahmoud welcomed me anytime and gave me a discount. It was a really nice gesture not because of not charging me full (since it wasn't a very expensive meal) but because it made me feel welcomed as family, even though he was family through the marriage of his sister to my uncle. Once I left, I wasn't sure where else I would walk. I read a bit of my book in the restaurant.

I walked out and just kept on walking. I made it back to Jaffa gate and wondered if I should walk out to see some other things or if I should keep walking through the stoned streets. Jamelah called me and I talked to her for a little while as I watched people pass me by on the corner junction by the gate. The busy sounds, busy smells, busy people move fast. And the fruit and vegetable stands are colorful against the light of the market by Jaffa gate.

I decided to walk back through the other side of the stoned streets that I hadn't remembered walking, closer to the Via Dolorosa once it ends. I walked along looking at the market and the things people sold in them. Scarves, flags, wooden statues, plates, key chains, evil eyes and more. I wanted to get some of the plates, but I couldn't find a shop I found before that I liked. And I dind't want to settle for another shop, when I wanted the shop I found before. I knew I'd find it eventually, even if on another day.

I walked along and went by one of the stations of the Via Dolorso that I hadn't gone into before. These are the ones they say where Jesus fell the first time and then where Jesus saw his mother Mary. There are statues in the places where they believe he fell. A young palestinian man showed me where they were. He wanted me to buy something in the shop, but I had all the crucifixes and post cards I wanted and didn't want a stuffed camel.

I made my way back over by Jaffa Gate and decided to walk around to the other side of the Old city, through the outside to see what was there. I figured I'd bump into something. I was really interested in seeing if I could find the tomb of the Virgin Mary or Mary Magdalene. Those were on the Mt. of Olives and I was determined to find it. By the look of the map, it was around the corner down far on the right. But the map wasnt always right. I figured it wouldn't hurt for me to walk that way anyway, since I hadn't yet.

On my way out, I ran into the french man from the bus that morning.

"Oh hey." I said, as he bought a long oval piece of bread with seasame seeds on them.

"Hi. Salaam. Good to see you again." He replied with a smile.

"You're friend found his way ok on the bus?" I wanted to make sure they hadn't run into any more trouble.

"Yes. Shukran. He made it fine on the bus and should be on his flight now." He came around the bread buyer and we still seemed to be in the way.

"Thats good. I'm glad to hear it. Just gotta be very careful when it comes to these soldiers." I said to him. He smiled and nodded. He knew the drill, but maybe figured became he was a light skin man he would have flown under the radar. But they don't care. They can smell "Palestinian sympathizer" from miles away. "Oh by the way, whats your name?"

"Oh." He laughed, tapped his head and shook it. "Yes of course. It's Michele. What's yours?"

"Eman. Nice to meet you." I reached out to shake his hand. We were still in the way of the people passing by, even though I knew we weren't. I motioned us off to the side by a bunch of bushes close to the steps going up to the street.

"Do you want to go get a drink or something?" He asked suddenly. I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't know this guy and it was already a little after 3pm. The sun sets completely by 5:45pm and I didn't want to miss out on the light and on seeing whatever else I wanted to see.

"Um. Maybe another time. I'm trying to get around the Old City to see Mary's Tomb and whatever else and I want to be on the bus by sunset." I replied with a smile.

"Oh really? Um. Okay. Well, how do you like your trip so far? Are you visiting family?" I still wanted to have conversation, which was fine with me. He was a really nice guy and I like meeting new people. After all I didn't know what kind of drink he wanted so I couldn't knock him for trying to spend some time with a nice young woman who was friendly and had a brain.

"I've been loving it. Its been great. Today I just walked around the Old City again and wanted to try and see the other side before I have to leave next week. Its been amazing though and I've been visiting my family and staying in Ramallah." I replied.

"Oh nice. I've been staying in a hostel in the Old City. It's nice. I was on my way over since we leave tomorrow and are leaving very late in the night to get to the airport." I said motioning to the stoned walls to left. "Are you sure you don't want to get a drink?" He asked again. We were talking anyway and the most I felt like in the moment was water anyway.

"You know what, why not? We're talking anyway. But I just have a little bit of time, so that I can try and see some other things today." I said as we walked up the steps.

"No problem. Let's just go close to here." He said as we walked.

We ended up going right across the street from the Old City to this little place that had a few small store on the bottom and a restaurant on the top. I got water and he got a pepermint tea. See, wasn't that kind of drink. We talked about the politics of the country and what was going on with the Olive Trees. I told him about my family's trees. He told me about some people he tried to help with an organization that helps Palestinians with their trees. He told me of soldiers and settlers who were saying racial slurs to folks from other countries who came to help the Palestinians pick their Olives. We talked about how most of the french didn't like thier new President because he was good friends with Bush. He had been to Palestine about 11 years before and he said it was even harder then to get around.

Michele use to be a Social Worker in france and turned into a farmer. He said he loved the land. He talked about wanting to help Palestinians more, but knowing that sometimes it was a powerless fight. He asked me about religion, about women's rights, and about being american and palestinian. We talked for an hour before I realized what time it was. He bought my water, even though I protested. He said he invited me and it was just water. We exchanged emails. He walked me to the corner and gave me a hug and a kiss on each cheek. I told him to have a safe flight in the morning and to email me soon.


I walked along the outside of the stone walls and passed the Rockefeller museum. I didn't feel compelled to go in, so I kept walking. I also didn't feel compelled to give them 30NIS (about $8). I kept moving down and followed the stone walls until there didn't seem to be anymore. There was a sign that pointed to the Western Wall. It seemed like a bitch of a sketchy entrance so I kept walking around down hill in the same direction, but following traffic. Off in the distance were hills and trees and the tops of churches. This HAD to be the Mt. of Olives. I wasn't sure if it was, but I had a feeling it was. I kept moving down the hill until there was another entrance for the western wall farther down along the hill. I walked up the other hill and made it up by the other entrance there. Before I went into the other gate to see, I saw an old Muslim cemetery and decided to go in a see it. I paid my respects at the entrance, walking in slowly, in case there were some crazy guards here just like by the Dome and Al-Aqsa.

No one was guards were in sight so I walked in. An older white man stood high on one of the tombs, taking pictures of the mountain across the road. Off in the distance, you could see the churches more clearly. One church had gold tops to it, round and then a pointy top. Another had a biblical painting on the front by large steps going down. This was where I needed to visit next! I walked around the cemetery, taking pictures of tombstones and of the view. The man walked down and towards me. He knew very few words in English. At first I wasn't sure if he was speaking Russian or not, but then he said he was Polish. He wanted me to take some pictures of him with the back round of the Mt. of Olives. I did just that and he did the same for me. He spoke to me in Polish, but some how we managed to communicate just fine. He was a very nice man. His name was Strofsky. I was surprised he addressed himself by his last name, but it was fine.
He was really happy with the way I took pictures of him with the back round and all. It was a nice day to meet people.

By the time I was done at the cemetery, it was a little after 5. I went towards the Western Wall, but I saw there was a church and the site where Mary was born. I wanted to visit it, but it was closing. It was getting dark and too late to visit any more for the day. I had seen a lot that day anyway. So I noted where everything was and made my way back over to the bus. It was a long walk back to the station anyway and I preferred to do it with the little bit of light I had.

Besides I need to get rest if I was going to climb the Mt of Olives the next day!