Day 1 in اسرئيل

Not sure if I can recall nearly as much as I want to or condense every thing into the size of a few blog posts, but here I try:

So, last Wednesday afternoon, the 22^nd, my friend Sarah and I set off for the Jordanian/Israeli border. It was the Muslim holiday of Eid al-Adha, so we got an extra three days off of school for a five day weekend, and most people in our program decided to travel in the region. I actually hadn’t really planned on traveling to Israel during my time in Jordan, even though Jerusalem is only a 45 minute drive away, minus border crossings.

So, we head off for the border. Now, for people with little knowledge about the Middle East, most countries here in the Middle East aren’t too big a fan of Israel. In fact, many, excluding Egypt and Jordan, will not accept you into their country if they see an Israeli stamp in your passport. I’ve even heard of people getting turned away at borders for having sticky residue on the back of their passports from what might be an Israeli sticker. Israel also isn’t too big a fan of certain passport stamps, but as long as you’re American and you can explain away the stamps as tourism, you’re usually fine.

The Jordanian border was incredibly easy and within a half hour-ish, we were on the bus to the Israeli side (they charge you for every mandatory bus between every crossing. So frustrating). But once we got to the Israel side, it was definitely much stricter. With constant threats, Israel simply has a lot more to worry about when it comes to who they let into their country. However, with American passports, it’s usually easy.

There were at least two or three security check points that I can remember, complete with metal detectors, bag scans. My overly stuffed backpack always required an extra search because they just couldn’t tell what all I had stuffed in there. This is a pretty good time probably to describe how intense Israeli security is. I literally went through a minimum of maybe 40 or 50 metal detectors and/or bag searches in my time there. Hotels, bus stations, historic sites: everywhere wanted to make sure that you weren’t carrying anything you weren’t supposed to. Usually, I wasn’t traveling with my large backpack, so I was easy in security, but, excepting the border, the security guards usually gave me a friendly laugh when they saw my oversized backpack. Granted most nice hotels in Lebanon, Jordan and Egypt have these detectors, and AUC had a check as well. But the fact that we were searched so often gave me a bipolar feeling: it seemed normal, but at the same time, it made me feel like I was always judged with suspicion. It was bizarre.

While Sarah and I went through a final verification process of some sort, we saw a bunch of official looking people running towards our initial security check point. We never found out what exactly happened, but now, looking back, it’s weird that we even found that weird. Security is just really intense, and people quickly responding to situations just isn’t that weird.

So, we load onto a bus that tells us it’s heading for Jerusalem: of course, we didn’t think to ask if it was East or West Jerusalem, but we’re just grateful to find an Arabic speaking bus driver. Throughout our time there, many Arabs we met, mostly cab drivers, were really excited, and obviously entertained, when we asked directions or made short conversation in Arabic. I’m sure they don’t encounter tourists speaking Arabic that often, due to the travel restrictions into Israel, and they really seemed to appreciate it.

But the bus drive through the West Bank was difficult. Not physically, it was maybe a half hour ride through really fascinating Southwest America with more hills desert terrain. But emotionally, seeing the gorgeous, massive Israeli townhouse settlements, juxtaposed with the Palestinian shacks that were falling apart with a massive barbed fence separating the two. Seeing both sides, thinking about the emotional state of living in either location, was just draining. It completely epitomized the extreme ideology of the conflict.

But we made it into East Jerusalem, and the bus driver was extremely helpful in finding us a cab to take us to West Jerusalem. While previously East Jerusalem was held by Jordan and is still claimed by Palestine as a part of the state, I could never actually tell a dividing line between the two. While a massive, somewhat also emotionally draining concrete wall, reminiscent of the Berlin Wall with intense graffiti, divides most of the West Bank from Israel, East Jerusalem blends into West. The best indicators of West and East Jerusalem were general Arab country indicators: lots of trash in the streets, signs in Arabic and general disrepair. I really felt in E. Jerusalem that I was just in a poorer version of Amman.

Suddenly, as the cab drove into West apparently, we saw so many Orthodox Jews, with intense beards, covered hair, wearing all baclk and lots of signs in Hebrew. It was the most abrupt intense culture shock imaginable. I have no idea why that hit me so hard, but I was so confused. How did this suddenly happen? What was this world? Did these people live on another planet?

The shock took another turn when we reached the bus station for our bus to Haifa. Welcome back to the Western World. It was essentially a more crowded Ogilvile in Chicago: a massive hub of transportation with four floors of fast food restaurants and shops. We hopped the first bus to Haifa, which was situated 2.5 hours away on the coast. The drive was surreal: real road lines and drivers who obeyed them. All of the chains I had missed, but all written in Hebrew. All the youth on the bus had their headphones on. The wealth the West: it was bizarre.

We checked into our super cute hotel, dropped our meager (but well stuffed) bags, and headed out to find a nearby restaurant. We found a great Arab-ish restaurant on Ben-Gurion street. Israel loves naming its streets after former leaders even more than American does! Arab streets have names, well, some of them… Sorta. They’re constantly re-named and you usually get around by landmarks: cabbies have no clue about street names. So, we got to kick back and we enjoyed salad, hummus and some nice Israeli beer. Up the street, we had a great view of the Bahai gardens, making me reminisce about the lovely Bahai temple in Evanston. By the end of the night, aka 11, we were well worn out and just wanted to get a start on our next day.