Nablus

Our delightful and informative guide Mohammad drove us from Jerusalem to Nablus using the old roads so we could see the ancient caravan routes. We stopped at a vantage point to admire the view and an old woman in wonderfully colourful dress appeared. Her land was just down the slope but she had constant harassment from settlers and frequently had to appeal to the Israeli military for help. M explained that because of historical circumstances there exist 5 forms of law re land and property - Ottoman, Jordanian, Palestinian, British and Israeli. The Israelis choose which suits. There's an Ottoman law which says if you haven't worked your land for 7 years it becomes the property of the state. So this is what the settlers are trying to bring about.

On to Nablus and a tour of the old city - Shechem - its Old Testament name. Evidence of 800 year old houses bulldozed during the second intifada so that tanks could get through! Visited an old soap factory, another making sweets, a fantastic spice store and then on to the hamam. Much sweet tea and welcomes everywhere. At the entrance to the sweet store I bumped into Alessandra, an Italian Londoner whom I'd met two years ago. Mohammad then took us to see the preparation of kenafeh and sample this local speciality. It's a sort of pancake, the base of which is made with flour I think but it's yellow and looks more like grain, then on top they put goats cheese. When one side's done (and the whole thing is huge) they flip it over and pour syrup over. We watched a stream of people coming to buy slices. The turnover is non stop during the day. It's absolutely delicious.

Friday tides

Approaching the Western Wall/Al Aksa Mosque/Dome of the Rock we battled the tide but were turned back by Israeli soldiers. No tourists, Muslims only, on Fridays. So we walked up and down the Via Dolorosa and lit a candle for K in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Waves of Xtian 'pilgrims' kissing the floorstones. (Mon Pere who we bumped into later on his way to the C of the H S jovially referred to the holy shebang as a 'souk'). Early evening retreat to the same cafe at the Damascus Gate, watched the tide of Orthodox Jews going to the Wailing Wall. An amazing assortment of hairstyles, garb and head gear. (Did Bob Dylan get his 'leopard skin pillbox hat' image from here?) Then later the tide returned with two devotees in full black outfits, toting their sub machine guns slung over their shoulders!!! They were accompanied, on the double, by a couple of uniformed IDF. I've got a blurry photo as they were moving fast.

Watched in dismay as the Israeli soldiers at Damascus Gate hustled an elderly Arab woman selling herbs out of the way as the Jews were hurrying to prayers. One week later, but Friday mid-day, she was allowed to stay in her spot as the Muslims were hurrying to their prayers.

happy clappy Xtians!

Our little hotel was full of them! Dutch, with much praying on the terrace at breakfast, lots of laying on of hands and 'amens'. Later, in the lounge where we thought we'd escaped for a bit of peace, we were regaled with a long explication of Christianity by a self-confessed Dutch missionary talking up the gospels to a young Japanese guy. There were some wonderful bits of misunderstanding through 'lost in translation' moments. It was a bit like Life of Brian. We were assured that salvation only came through Jesus and if you found him you found the route to God and therefore Heaven. Heaven help us indeed! We had to beat a hasty retreat.

some good conversations

At least half the passengers on our flight to Tel Aviv were Orthodox Jews - a lot of praying went on both at the departure gate, and on board. So we were wary initally of talking to our neighbour. But as he was reading Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone and in 'mufti' we asked him if our request for Israeli visas to be stamped on separate paper (rather than inside our passports) should be in Hebrew. He replied "they're not very enlightened but they do speak English". So we knew we could speak freely from then on! He said he was apprehensive about returning, as a gay guy who'd lived abroad for some time. His parents' home was near Gaza. He'd done film studies so we spent the rest of the journey talking cinema and favourite directors. If he ever reads this it was sheer delight and by the way, don't forget Robert Bresson!

We found our little Palestinian hotel, dumped our stuff and headed for the Damascus Gate for a drink. A Palestinian cafe, great vantage point good atmosphere and delicious (but expensive) Taybeh beer. Got talking to a French Catholic priest who confessed to a taste for arak. He was a Provencal, with a jolly disposition and a liking for his native cuisine. Alas he'd been to England as a teenager (Royston of all places) to improve his English. He said food and weather was 'orrible! He didn't mind talking to atheists and didn't give us any religious guff. He was going to spend the following night in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and asked us if we knew who unlocked and locked the church each day? Any guesses? Muslims! That's because the Christians can't agree amongst themselves who has the right/privilege in the pecking order.

Palestine 2009 (59 photos), by Maggie Fisher

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Bethlehem - The Wall and graffiti

The Wall and checkpoint in Bethlehem prevent Palestinians from travelling to Jerusalem, their spiritual home. there's much wit and humour painted on the wall. 

Dahaisha Refugee Camp

Bethlehem 's Dahaisha Refugee Camp is home to third-generation Palestinian refugees. here are two pictures which might give you some idea of the overcrowding.