After months of planning, dreaming, having my plans thwarted because of that visa problem and this lost passport bullshit, I stepped on the 10.15pm bus to Taba on the Egypt-Israeli border on Tuesday night.
After all that planning, my actual embarkation onto that bus was a result of a hasty afternoon's decision to just GO. I had only that morning itself, finally resolved all my visa/passport issues at the Mugamma (more on that drama later) and so with a new passport and a measily 7-day visa in one hand, my faithful little-blue-trolly-bag-that-can held on by the other, I WENT.
During the bus journey, I settled into reading my very-new Lonely Planet, only purchased that afternoon from DIwan. I read, highlighted, got more and more excited until I got to the visa section which read "Singaporeans need a pre-issued visa." Depression kicked in, and literally, I sat the book down on the seat next to me and prepared myself to be rejected by the
Israeli's and get the next bus home.
4.45am
The bus had arrived in Taba early. I found myself and one other couple standing in an isolated bus station, it's pitch black dark, with not a soul in sight. I thank my lucky stars this couple is here with me. We get to the Taba checkpoint, and contrary to what the Lonely Planet claims, we get re-entry visas issued. We then head to the Israeli checkpoint by foot. The
guards smile, say hello, and ask for my passport. I'm told to put my bags down, and a minute later, I'm sat on a bench.
Then, a female israeli guard approaches me, identifying herself as a security-something. With not even a hint of a smile in her eyes, she starts to grill me. I'm standing there in the cool morning breeze, with the gorgeous Red Sea lapping away behind me, and as she interrogates me, my mouth goes dry. What are you doing in Egypt? What's your grandfather's name? WHy don't you have a work permit? What religion do you follow? Where did you study? WHat did you study? Why did you work for Ericsson if you studied politics?
I told the truth about everything, except for my religion. "I'm Christian." Oh really? Whats your mother and father's name? ...That doesn't sound like a Christian name. "Oh well,in Bangladesh we have different sounding names. I was shitting my pants but this woman wasn't going to break me. I smiled and joked as much as I could manage. When I told her I wanted to go shopping in Tel Aviv (i'm the superficial, hedonistic tourist y'see), she gave me a look of contempt, doubt, and asked, "You're here to go shopping? WHy don't you shop in Cairo?"
Then, they took me inside and a female guard felt me up. I felt totally violated, but I felt more for this dumb woman whose country was making her grope my sweaty armpits. Now, that's patriotism. Then they took every single thing out of my bags, x -rayed them, and questioned me about the dodgy items. Why do you have so many credit cards? What's this book abt (From Beirut to Jerusalem, Thomas Friedman -- oops, probably bad choice)? Who wrote this (Imogen's tips that she wrote out for me)? Again, they questioned me, this time writing all my answers down.
I was told to sit. For the next 3 hours (one hour had already passed since I approached the checkpoint), they continually came up to me, asking all sorts of probing questions. Sometimes, 2-3 different people asked me the same question. All this, as I sat and watched an entire gang of Nigerians (all wearing outfits cut from the same cloth, and holding blanket carriers
on their heads, i kid you not) BREEZE through the checkpoint. What the hell was happening to the world? How were AFRICANS bypassing me, a Singaporean?! I never thought the day would come.
My hope started to dwindle. I was so desperate. 1.5 years in Egypt and I had never ventured out of the country, despite there being countless fascinating lands to travel to right next door....Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, Jordan (eh, not that much). And now, in my last 2 weeks, I was desperate. It's been my dream to see the DOme of the Rock. Nothing could stop me, not even the lack of travel companions, I was prepared to do this alone. So these bastards were not stopping me. I sat up straight, read my Thomas Friedman while waiting and answered all their stupid questions calmly. "Yes I am a Christian. I have a Christian name, Nancy. You wanna see my business cards? I celebrate Christmas. Yes, we go to Church. Once a week. Sundays. JESUS CHRIST!!! (pun intended).
Finally, they gave me my passport. My heart started singing hallelujah, but there was still one more step. Immigration counter (yes, believe it or not, that was merely interrogation). I asked the lady behind the counter not to stamp my passport. I thought I was in the clear, but I guess I thought wrong. She made a phonecall, and then told me, "You have to
wait." These people don't seem to know the words, please and thank you. They also don't seem to know how to smile. Once again, I sat down. Once again, they asked me the same questions. Where are you staying in ISrael? Do you know anyone there?
And then finally, they let me through. With not a stamp on my passport in sight. It was 10.15am. I stepped out of the checkpoint and there was the Red Sea, looking even more sparkly, glittery and gorgeous than usual. I was in Palestine.
Pretty neat for a 24th birthday present.
