The plan was to not mention my Palestinian friend at the border but to say I was meeting my German friend (which was also true). But I didn't think through the whole 2-passport arrangement beforehand. I bought a second passport in Jordan just for traveling into Israel because if you get an Israeli stamp in your passport you can't get into countries like Syria or Lebanon, not easily anyway.
The first time I used the blank passport, I had no problem with the Israelis, but the Jordanians were miffed... Why didn't I have a visa from their country since I was in it? So this time I brought them both, just in case. And when the 20-year-old Israeli soldier behind the glass started asking me about where I'm from and what I do and why I'm in Jordan and why I'm going to Israel and if I've ever traveled to another Muslim country and if I have a second passport, and if she could see it...well, I just wasn't prepared to lie. I showed her my 10-year-old, packed full with additional pages passport, and it was another 30 minutes of questions and flipping through the passport and more questions.
The bus was kind enough to wait a very long time for me. The hall was empty except for me and another couple of unfortunates. From across the room, the driver gave me the twisty-wrist Arabic gesture for what's the deal? I gave him the open raised hands for what can a person do?
There was this other odd twist to the story. I had a bottle of Chivas Regal that I'd agreed to carry through customs for an old man who'd been sitting with his wife in front of me on the bus. I didn't understand but went with it. I imagined he was probably some regular closet-drinking Muslim fearing the questions they'd lay on him about the alcohol, and I'd watched him buy it right in front of me at the duty free shop...so what the hey.
The bus had to leave me after all since the Israelis decided your truly looked suspicious enough to warrant a few hours of running me through the security check. (What is your father's full name? What is your father's father's full name? What is your friend's phone number? What is your address and phone number in the USA? What's your email address? What kinds of children does Save the Children help? Arabic children?)
It would make a much better story if I got that big bottle of booze for my trouble, but alas. I gave the bus driver my friend's phone number to give to the old man so he could look me up once I got there (which he promptly did).
Destination: Nazareth, the most important city in Israel for Arabs who make up the majority of its population. My friend Falastin was born and raised there, and she was spending some time there before relocating to Copenhagen. It's also where Mary is believed to have gotten knocked up by the Holy Spirit, and thus where Jesus grew up. So it was cool to see my friend's roots, as well as this very old little city nestled in a small valley.
Ah, going to bed without managing my children's night-time routine, uninterrupted sleep all night, and rolling out of bed at 10 a.m.
Falastin, her girls and I walked down from her parent's house where she grew up (mother's domain: freshly clean and spare) to her late grandmother's house where her father holds court under his pomelo trees all day and night for "the gentlemen of Nazareth." The house is actually under massive renovations in the style of the region: straight up a few floors to accommodate the next generation of families (for Falastin and her brothers). The back yard was chocked full of fruit trees and rows of veggies. Her father had a shack set up with his mini bar and tools. It all reminded me very much of my late grandfather's domain in Florida. We ate cherry tomatoes and cumbers off the vine and still warm baked flatbread rubbed with thyme and olive oil from the bakery around the corner.
Late that afternoon I had a few hours to just stroll around the city - its old market is like a mini version of Jerusalem's old city market. I sat in a hip cafe with its ancient vaulted ceilings, drank a completely drinkable gimlet (gamely attempted by the bartender for the first time), and I wrote in my journal. I was, if only for a day, that reflective, roaming young woman of my 20s.
Falastin and her mother
Andrea with Kathi and Jacob (talk about heroic traveling!)
The Cafe
Scenes from Mary's Church of the Annunciation. This is Mary reeling from the news that a) she's pregnant and b) that her explanation for not being a virgin on her wedding night is that it was all God's doing.
What Mary and Jesus look like to Asians:
China
Korea
India
Indonesia
4 comments:
Thanks for telling us about your adventure. You must have been very patient. They really give women traveling alone a lot of trouble. When Erin and I went in 1999, they gave us a lot of trouble when we were leaving. When I went in 2006 with Lawrence and Debbie -- no problem. Did you get both of your passports back? -- Gayle
Very cool post...I was waiting for the bottle of boos to be the thing that somehow got you arrested or something. Very glad that didn't happen to us when we went to Jerusalem. So ridiculous.
Thanks for posting. I want to hear more as I'm sure you left out quite a few details in your writing. The picture of Andrea and her kids in the doorway reminded me so much of our trip to Jerusalem. Now, realizing that I'll probably never visit Israel again, I will cherish all those memories.
Oh, wait, Mary WAS a virgin. Right. But it still must have been very difficult to convince everyone of her story.
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