Well well, it has been quite a while since I wrote on this damn blog. Last time was about Damascus, in Syria; and since then nothing. Total blackout. Sometimes we feel uninspired, us – human. So today I decided to be active again, and write about the last part of my Middle East trip that ended in Cairo.

Thus, leaving Damascus after Christmas, I put myself on the road again and went straight to Jerusalem, via Amman. Small advice here: for people who want to enter Israel or the West Bank without getting the compromising Israeli stamp on the passport, the solution is to enter via the King Hussein bridge (or in Arabic جسر الملك حسين‎, Jisr al-Malek Hussein, or again in Hebrew גשר אלנבי‎, Gesher Alenbi) sometimes called Allenbi bridge. It’s all quite an easy process, apart maybe from the fact that the Israeli custom people (mostly 18 year old girls who would rather flirt with other soldiers than do anything) have the instruction to block as many trouble makers as they can. And by trouble makers I mean human right activists, not “terrorists”. So, since I had a Syrian, a Tajik, a Kyrgyz and other crazy stamps they naturally looked at me suspiciously. So it took me 7h to go through this damn check point. Interrogation sessions, waiting for ever without any information about when it would end… Not very nice. So it took my all day to do the 90km or so between Amman and Jerusalem. Some made it faster, but not me; and some were still stuck when I left the place.

So I started my Palestinian experience with Ramallah (رام الله) because I met a crazy Iranian woman who had been traveling for two years; and she had a deal with a hotel. Now, this may sound non-politically correct (and anyways I hate politically correct), but life really isn’t so bad over there. One of my thought was “why do they complain so much?” There are coffee chains like Stars and Bucks, or Costa Cafe where I had great ice capuccino. In the night I went to trendy cafes to enjoy amazing grilled chicken ceasar salad with a  glass of very good Palestinian wine… I would never have expected that over there.

Of course Ramallah is the economic capital of the West Bank, but even when I went to poorer Nablus my impressions were the same: life isn’t so bad! In Syria I though people were much poorer (see my Nablus flickr set here).

But again, this is without considering the fact that in hilly Palestine almost every single hilltop is home to a Jewish settlement, which is guarded by military, which create check points where Palestinians have to queue when taking the road home from work. This clearly must be enraging. It felt like what I imagined to the Crusaders’ times, where they would control and dominate the region from a few fortified strongholds that were on top of the strategic hill – like the Crack des Chevaliers.

And then there is the Qalandia (قلنديا‎) checkpoint, which one must pass through when going to Jerusalem. If someone needs a visa to go abroad he must go to the embassy of that country, which is always in Jerusalem. But without a special ID no one can enter Jerusalem. But even if you are lucky enough to have that special ID, there are more of those 18 year old chicks who are going to decide if you can pass or not. It must be quite enraging to have your fate being decided by a kid. And I’m not even mentioning the fences and barbwire and cameras and guns – guns everywhere – that make one feel like cattle being transported from A to B…