khalas

They let you leave Israel alot easier than they let you get in. My first steps back on Egyptian soil were accompanied by a surprising sense of relief. I hadn't realised the subconscious tension I had been harboring the entire time during the last 6 days. But the tension is definitely there. Even as a tourist, you always feel the need to please the occupiers, to prove outwardly you aren't doing anything wrong. In Cairo, if any loser on the street tries to whisper sleazy things into my ear, I ignore them like I’m Helen Keller – deaf, blind and mute. Walking past Israeli soldiers on the street though, one good morning from them, and for some retarded reason I feel compelled to acknowledge them with an, albeit tight, smile. What was I scared of? That they’d SHOOT me if I didn’t pander to their bored flirtations? If this is how I feel as a tourist, imagine how the Palestinians feel. Apparently, this friend of a friend’s, a Palestinian, who was rather tubby around the stomach, used to walk around with his shirt lifted whenever he passed by Israeli soldiers, to prove, each and every single time, that it was indeed human lard he carried around, and not ammunition.

gaza

Back in Jerusalem. All the shops in East Jerusalem have shut in protest to what's going on in Gaza. 70 dead. It's troubling how I have been in East J for the last couple of days and had no clue what was going on until I went to Ramallah yesterday and people informed me. Eilat...Jerusalem...Tel Aviv...it's so easy to be in denial or completely block out the atrocities being carried out less than 1.5 hours away. Yesterday, we attended a small demonstration in the main square in Ramallah. Not many people turned up, but people are angry. Really, really angry. Hamas has issued a warning about suicide bombings - apparently calling 2008 the year of suicide bombings - and, as I'm told, when Hamas gives a warning, they mean serious business. Al-Aqsa Martyrs blow alot of hot air, but Hamas don't joke around.

I'm taking a taxi to the central bus station tomorrow. No way am I getting on one of those West Jerusalem buses. Back in Cairo Monday night.

Ramallah

Soon after, I returned to Jerusalem and hopped onto a bus to Ramallah next, the government and administrative hub of the West Bank. There isn't much to see in Ramallah, but if you know someone living there, as I was lucky enough to, it's a great place to experience how Palestinians are living what is probably the closest they can get to normalcy. There's also a big expat community here, and as I got to find out, all expat communities (in the Arab world) are the same.

Sitting with two Canadian girls in a Ramallah café, I listened to them worry over landlord issues because one of them was seen ushering a male friend out the door by her landlord. The only difference between Ramallah and Cairo was how much the conflict was in their faces, and predictably, how much conversation revolved around it. In 4 days I have learnt more about the conflict than anything I've registered over the last 24 years. Being witness to what the israeli's are doing also makes it all the more real. I had heard about jewish settlements…'outposts' they call them that have been built on Palestinian land, you imagine housing as flimsy as camps, but you get here and driving into Bethlehem, you're taxi driver points out that big Jewish settlement on top of the hill in the distance and it hits you that these settlements aren't flimsy outposts. They're entire towns, huge concrete monstrosities, sprawled out with their claws dug into Palestinian land. Convincing them, forcing them to leave this land that they have stolen, gosh, it will spark a Jewish uprising (which by the way has already started).

Apologies because I can't seem to stop going on about things most of you already know about. It's just that this trip has been so much of an intensely personal journey for me. It has been educational, not only on an academic level, but on an intimate level, about myself and discovering what I am capable of. I could probably go on and on, because everything here is so grey, there is no black and white. There is so much to understand, so much to confuse, so much to be troubled by. So I shall shut up and go on with the more superficial aspects of my trip.

My night in Ramallah was spent with a friend of a friend's, Amber, who was kind enough to let me crash at her apartment. (Traveling alone comes with so many perks, I'm amazed I didn't do this sooner. It's so much easier to change plans, to do things spontaneously, and the people you meet along the way are so much more accomodating) Amber was also kind enough to help me experience a lil' bit a-everything in Ramallah: we had coffee (Everything in Ramallah were shut, in protest to the events in Gaza, but some cafes, although pulled down their shutters and appeared closed, were bustling inside), we went to watch a dub-ka (Palestinian traditional dance) performance at the Ramallah Cultural Palace, then we went to a demonstration in Manara Square, and then finally for dinner at her friends place to eat maghlooby, a Palestinian dish!

Bethlehem

It’s amazing how easy it is to get around here. I went further into the West Bank today (East Jerusalem IS the West Bank too), taking a bus into Bethlehem. Over here, what should be a 30 minute ride can sometimes stretch into 1.5 hours, especially for Palestinians getting from one city to another simply because of Israeli checkpoints stationed between cities which by international law belong to the Palestinians anyway! An example of how they like to f*** with the Palestinians: Around Jummah time yesterday, we were trying to get into Jericho and we arrived to find a long lineup of cars at the checkpoint. The Israeli soldiers know the Palestinians are all trying to get to the mosque, and as my Palestinian driver explained, this intentional delay was a weekly occurrence. That's how it works here, even if Israeli-Arabs don't live in as destitute, tense conditions as the Gazans do, there is a subtle, sneaky personal campaign of oppression and humiliation being wrought by the Israelis.

Bethlehem was absolutely beautiful, much like the rest of this country, the landscape is extremely hilly and at the end of every street you discover an incredible panaroma. Bethlehem also has a fantastic service called the communal taxi, and I only wonder why more cities don’t employ this form of transport. 8-seater station wagons drive all around the city, picking up and dropping off passengers wherever they please, and only charging 2 shekels each. Cairo has an informal system similar to this, except we still pay according to the distance, no matter who you’re sharing your bus with.

My main aim in going to Bethlehem was to get a closer look at the Apartheid wall that the Israeli’s have built. I walked nearly three-quarters of a kilometre along this giant of a wall, built, according to the Israelis, to ‘stop terrorists from getting into Israel’, but instead it only serves to disrupt the daily lives of local Palestinians. Nevermind that it snakes along well into the West Bank territory, it was also ironically, built by Palestinian labour, so desperate for jobs, money, sustenance, that they have to resort to this kind of humiliation – building a wall for the enemy designed to ruin their own community. I will upload photos of some of the amazing graffiti on this wall later.

10 Signs you've been living in Egypt for too long

1. At an Eilat zebra crossing, you wait for the cars zooming towards you to pass, then double up in shock when they come to a standstill at the zebra crossing, patiently waiting for you to cross.

2. Within your first 15 minutes in Jerusalem, you get told off by a cop for jaywalking. Jaywalking.

"Why did you cross when the red man was flashing?"
"Oh....erm, I'm sorry, do you not do that here?"
"No. Where you come from?"
"Singapore"
"Don't they have traffic rules there?"
"Yes....but I've been living in Cairo for over a year."

Apparently they fine you here for jaywalking. Apparently, they hide by the side of the road to catch unknowing jaywalking criminals and slap fines on them. You would think that for a nation knee-deep in conflict, jaywalking would be a minor issue. Or maybe it's a survival mechanism. How to survive the trauma of life as an occupier: live in deep denial about the wider issues, and focus on the itty bitty little things you feel in control of. Like jaywalking.

Ok that's just two signs. But 10 sounds cooler. I'll come up with the rest later.

Success!!

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.

the beginning of the end

The countdown has started. Booked my flights today — I leave Cairo, for good, in exactly two weeks. March 8th. The end of 16 months in this glorious city, 16 months that have changed my life forever.