Israel

It never seemed real. For the past year I’ve told everyone that I’d be traveling to the Middle East this summer, but it never seemed real. Not even after I’d won the grant, or bought my plane tickets. The past two weeks in Jordan have even seemed a bit mystical, held in space and perhaps dreamt. But for some reason it’s hit me here in Israel.

Israel. The home of the Israelis; home of the biblical cities we sing about at Christmas, names that surrounded my childhood as some sort of fairytale, not a physical place that exists in modern times. Israel; ground zero for the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, the land that has created international turmoil for the past sixty years; words such as the West Bank and the Gaza Strip were also weaved into my life growing up with NPR in the background, but these words were far more real, and coincided with violence, bombs, terror and things I did not understand. Conflicts too complicated for a twelve year old to comprehend. Not until this year was I able to place these territories on a map, and begin to wrap my head around the immensely complex local that is the Middle East.

Israel – Jerusalem – is the place where the three Abrahamic faiths collide. Some of the holiest places on the planet for Jews, Christians and Muslims are right here in this city. For this, and all the reasons mentioned above, there seems to be such power here, suspended in the tension that never sleeps within these boarders. Israel is a country in a constant state of war. Which is noted in the soldiers toting machine guns in coffee shops and down side streets; most hardly older than my younger brother, faces still spotted, some with braces marring their white smiles – too young for such responsibility, too young to even understand what they are fighting for; I hardly do at times.

To cross the boarder I first had to take a taxi from my friend’s apartment to the bus station. At the bus station I caught another taxi which, once full, shuttles people to the King Hussein Bridge. The other three people in my car were Palestinian; they were dropped off at a different boarder crossing than me. I used the tourist crossing, which is much quicker. After getting my passport stamped and paying my exit fee, we boarded a bus to take us the ten-minute drive to the Israeli checkpoint. While on the Jordan side I met a Palestinian woman who was now living in Tennessee, who was returning to Ramallah for the first time in years. She now has a US passport, which is why she was crossing with me. That didn’t stop the Israelis from checking her handbag once she’d gone through the metal detector (the other white Americans I noticed had no such problem). About five different people checked my passport over the course of the next 45 minutes, which involved a few crushing lines, dropping my luggage off to go through security, and an intense round of questions, that unsettled me even though I was prepared for them as a woman traveling alone; apparently a very suspicious thing to do while in Israel. Did you know my last name sounds Middle Eastern? Neither did I.

All in all, it only took me four and a half hours to get from Amman to Jerusalem (which is less than a two hour drive if you were to go right though), so it was very successful, and no hiccups along the way with transportation, which is what I was most nervous about. I checked into my hostel before noon, and was able to wander up to the market at Davidka Square, and sip a small, but delicious Americano while people watching. After finalizing tours for the next couple days, I headed down to the Old City just to take a peak, and attempt to find a jewelry shop my professor had told me about that is run by a friend of hers.

The best way to describe the Old City is that it’s a terribly confusing and overwhelming maze. The walls that line the small, winding streets inside the gates, are just as tall as the walls that enclose the entire city, making it very easy to get lost and turned around. Being alone, I was quite aware of this, and didn’t wander too far in fear of that happening. Later this week I’m going to take a formal tour to make sure I see all of the important things (and also don’t get lost attempting to find them…).

The men are already worse here; though it is hard to tell if they mean well or are just creeps. Some come away from their stalls to personally invite you in to shop – when I walked away from one such salesman, he proceeded to yell after me that I’d dropped something, which I knew not to be true. Others yell across the street, asking if I need help or directions. I just wanted to scream at all of them, ‘NOT ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST.’ You are confusing my awe for disorientation.

But I do love traveling alone, as I knew I would. While at times it’s scary (getting from Amman to Jerusalem; being harassed in the Old City; or even just ordering food for the first time in a new country), there are major rewards – I completely dictate my schedule. After dinner (a delicious spread of chicken, yellow rice, peas cooked in spices, cucumber and tomato salad, pita bread and a drink for 39 shekels or $12), I sat digesting for half an hour and watched people walk down Jaffa Street; every few minutes bells would sound, followed by a train, which looks almost weirdly futuristic amongst the old buildings. Since it was still early I crossed the street and meandered down a side street (always a good decision), and stumbled across a bookstore/café (my FAVORITE thing) where I sat outside in the setting sun for two hours reading and drinking Riesling from the Golan Heights and local cider.

Needless to say, it was a fairly perfect first day. I’m not really inclined to buy much in Israel in terms of souvenirs, I mainly want to spend my money on food and drinks and soaking up the culture and vibe of this place as much as possible – pampering myself in a different kind of way. I’m off to the Dead Sea for the day tomorrow (a major splurge at $83), more soon!