Life on the other side of The Wall

So...I have had a really weird few days. A few of us took our first trip out of the West Bank and had a really interesting 24hours. I'll try to recount it here- you may want to grab a snack.

We started Thursday morning in the clinics, as usual. It was a really slow day at the clinic (different from the last one), but we managed to get a handful of surveys filled out and shadowed a really friendly doctor. We headed home a bit early and only half-prepped for our afternoon with the kids at the camp. We've started getting lazy - they are a handful and sadly, we've gotten to the point every now and then where we just drag our feet to get to them. We got cheap falafels before hand, then headed to the center to find a group of kids, half of them new to us, that were eager to see us. In general, we had a blast that afternoon. Some kids made bracelets out of beads, others colored, some played hot potato, and we were all happy. Everyone had fun, not much fussing, and a whole lot of love. Funny - we were kind of shocked.

We left a little early and half of us left for the checkpoint. It's a funny thing, that checkpoint. You basically follow this long, narrow, gated pathway until you reach a metal revolving door. You pass through, then walk up and down some ramps. We placed our bags on a scanner, walked through a metal detector, and chuckled at the Israeli soldiers that were chowing down on food as we passed through their "security check." Again we walked through a one-way small revolving passage where we flashed our fancy foreign passports in order to get out before any Palestinians could get in. Yeah, it makes you feel horrible. It wasn't the first time either - nearly every checkpoint we go through, we are able to cut to the front or bypass certain security points because we are foreigners. During a previous journey through the same checkpoint, I said outloud that I felt bad for cutting all the locals that stood in front of me in line. A man at the front of the line told me not to feel bad. His tone seemed to reassure me that he was just used to it already.

We grabbed a bus to Jerusalem. There, we found what we had come there for - a gay pride parade. Yes, you read it right. A gay pride parade in the Holy Land. It was marking the one year anniversary of a fatal shooting at a gay youth center in Tel Aviv. We weren't sure what to expect, but we found thousands of Israeli and foreign gays, lesbians, trans, and straight folks marching to a band (with a cow bell!), donning their rainbow flags and politically incorrect shirts. Security was ridiculously tight, with police and army personel at every corner of the lengthy route. It was muted for what you might expect of a gay parade, but it was definitely an interesting site. It all occurred in West Jerusalem (pretty sure I didn't see any Muslims participating), marching from near the Old City and ending at the Knesset, the Israeli legislative building. There, they had a rather dull rally, emceed by a drag queen in a flowing black gown, speaking Hebrew to the crowd that had gathered with their neon light-stick bracelets and random assortment of instruments. The whole thing was kind of surreal, but terribly intriguing. I sat there thinking, how different is this from the Palestinian refugee camp I was sitting in only hours ago. Alas, to think of this territorial problem is not to forget about the discrimination gays face. There are just too many problems in the world to keep track of, if you ask me.

We backtracked after a while, then passed through a rather swanky part of Jerusalem with westernized restaurants and "Super-Jew" t-shirts. We made it to the sherut pickup and grabbed a mini-bus to Tel Aviv. It felt like forever, but by the time we made it to Tel Aviv it was only 10:30p. The night was still young.

We managed to find our way to Rothschild St, a very hip and happening spot where we met up with Maija's friend who has lived in the area for some months now. We were disgusting after having played and walked around all day. Furthermore we were all carrying our backpacks. Amongst all the 20-somethings in their short dresses, bare shoulders and strappy sandals, we looked absolutely ridiculous. We managed to find a bar anway, some folks had drinks, and we sat and started chatting.

Maija's friend brought along 2 others when they met up with us - one was an American. Sometimes, I gotta tell ya - it's not fun sharing the same nationality as other Americans. I'm too lazy to elaborate (i.e. complain) about her though. Another boy was an ex-soldier (in fact, all young Israelis, boys and girls, are required to serve after high school so they all end up being ex-soldiers). He was an interesting cat to say the least. He was under the impression that all Arabs wanted to kill him. He also mentioned to the others that the IDF had the highest moral code of all militaries because they called the folks in Gaza before they bombed their homes. One in a million, that guy (I hope). We heard some of them talk about the recent flotilla attack, defending Israel from what they perceived to be a lying international media, saying that the boat contained terrorists and therefore Israel was not wrong by attacking. Maija pointed out several times that the attack happened in international waters - "But that was the only thing they did wrong," was the rebuttal.

We ended up on the Mediterranean beach not much later, hanging with other Israelis, enjoying the scenes and just chatting. I stood by the seaside for a moment, alone, futily trying to find the stars that were hidden by the bright lights. I recalled my recent July 4th miracle night, and got a little homesick. The new Israeli boys that came to hang out were a friendly lot. Whenever they mentioned things about the West Bank (they don't refer to it as Palestine), they just seemed ill-informed, perhaps as much so as we were about the Israeli viewpoint. They seemed to have the impression that they would be killed in the West Bank. Maybe they're right, but from our viewpoint, we have never felt the least bit unsafe during our long stay here. I couldn't help but think, if only they could see what the other side was like. But, like the Palestinians who lack blue permits, the Israelis can't cross into certian parts of the WB for security reasons. Seems as though they may not know what it's like for a while.

We finally crashed at Maija's friend's ridiculously expensive 1-room flat at 4:30 in the morning. Waking up lazily the next morning, we made our way through a vibrant market full of fancy crafts, more olives than I knew existed, and plenty of bare skin. We ate at a great little restaurant that gave me the most delicious westernized gauda cheese sandwich, costing me a mere 12 bucks (in case you missed the sarcasm, that equals expensive). We ate till we were stuffed, then all parted ways to see different things. I walked along the beach with the Recap boys to Jaffa, an old city on the shore that was quiet but serene with a great view of Tel Aviv. It was there that it really donned on me just how strange this side of the wall was. If I had dropped into Tel Aviv unaware of any of the conflict going on behind government doors and 8 meter concrete slabs, I would probably love that place. It was so western, so NYC but on a warm beach. You could walk between skyscraper hotels and find bustling markets, you could walk along the beach and see perfectly tanned bodies soaking in the sun. Not even 24hours before that, we were in Bethlehem, surrounded by scarved women in long trechcoats, kids running up against a concrete wall colorful with grafitti, and men selling olive wood carvings on every block. Now, we were in one of the most expensive cities in the world, where girls flaunted their great fashion sense, the booze always flowed, and the sun bounced its rays off the spotless windows of 40-story tourist spots. We were not far at all from Bethlehem, yet it seemed as though we were worlds away. It almost felt wrong being there, and it felt more wrong liking the place.

I mean really, Tel Aviv is a pretty sweet city. I could probably live in a town like that if it wasn't so damn expensive - and if I didn't know at what cost it was built. It was such a culture shock, to go from one end of the earth to another in just an hour. From a conservative, modest society to a vibrant party scene. From people that suffered from an age-old conflict and thought it about it everyday as it pervaded every aspect of their life, to people who had no clue about the place we had just come from.

I dont even know how to keep writing about this. Understand this much - it was hella confusing. It was the first time we'd ventured that far from The Wall, and I though I had a great time, part of me was ready to go back. I think I am getting a little homesick. That never usually happens but this trip has just been a rollercoaster of information and emotions and I can never seem to sort out my feelings. Including now. So, I leave it at this.