- Thursday: sightsee in Bethlehem, Henna party in the evening.
- Friday: Dead Sea spa day, wedding reception in the evening.
- Saturday: some more random sightseeing near Bethlehem, then get to work eventually in the middle of the day.
But alas, after the Spa day, my trip was cut short and I never made it to the wedding. Why? O I don’t know, just excessive racial profiling, that’s all.
Sightseeing 1
Thursday morning I trekked my over packed bag to my accommodations in Bethlehem. Thanks to my newly acquired Lonely Planet travel guide, I found the Ibdaa Cultural Center Guesthouse actually located right in the Dheihshe Refugee Camp outside Bethlehem. It was not at all something you would expect to be within a refugee camp. The guest house part is actually secondary to the sports, arts and community activities that they coordinate.
http://ibdaa194.org/index.html
Leaving my things there, I headed out to find my first site, the Church of the Nativity. I tend to not look like a tourist considering my scarf, but once I was close enough I pulled out my travel guide so that I’d get the touristy preferential treatment :- ) It worked because as I was pulling it out, I was approached by a travel guide who wanted to show me around the Church. I’m very skeptical when it comes to spending my money on touristy stuff, such as guides, so I bluntly told him that I’m a poor law student, and I would only do it if it was free. He looked at me, smiled (in a slightly awkward over friendly Arab guy style) and said sure, because I’m a fellow Muslim. Finally! The scarf does something good for me here!!!!! So I went with it.
He was a real help though. Especially because with him, I didn’t have to wait in the huge line to see the Grotto of the Nativity (and the 14 point star that marks where Jesus was born!) To be honest, I felt that he did it in a very rude intrusive way, and I didn’t feel so nice intruding in between the line of Christians who were visiting it the grotto in a very spiritual sense. I wouldn’t like it if while I was at a holy shrine some random tourist came poking in just to take a picture! I justify my actions with two points: I’m never going to see it again any time soon, and secondly, I was taking a picture for my Christian friends! (ie Adrian made me do it! Hehehe)
The rest of the Church was amazing to see. It’s separated into three different parts, the Armenian, Greek Orthodox, and the Catholic. I don’t think I really saw the Armenian part actually. My self appointed guide wasn’t too ridiculously clear on that. Here’s something else I didn’t know: Christmas mass is broadcasted from here? Wow. 
Another thing that I found interesting is that the Church is actually built on top of the stable. The real things to see are all in the cave like basement of the church. There was also another room where the graves of the children who were killed when the armies invaded Bethlehem to kill the “king of all kings” in his youth.
After the Basilica, I dodged my guide’s dinner invitation (hence the free tour and constant comments about my photogeneticness) and headed to Bethlehem’s Old City Souq. I spent the next two hours wandering happily through stores and getting constantly asked if I was Indian. That was until I realized that it was getting late and I still wanted to check out the Milk Grotto Chapel.
The Milk Grotto is said to be where Mary’s milk fell and turned the red stone there white. I found it to be incredibly peaceful, probably due to its location, a bit away from the Church of the Nativity. There were only three other tourists there, and I had the liberty to wander around and observe the nuns in their prayers.
Dance, dance and more Dance
I barely made it back to my apartment to get ready and head over to Mai’s house for the Henna party. The Henna party is based on the same concepts as the Mehndi ceremony we have in Pakistani weddings. The groom’s family goes over to the bride’s house and takes her “dowry”, jewelry, clothes etc. When I arrived at Mai’s house, they were still having a smaller traditional dance party there. I can’t even remember half of Mai’s family that she introduced me to. She had about 6 sisters alone. Did I mention her two mothers? I like how when she told me, she immediately added that the two women have a great relationship. Lol, I understand how someone can have two wives, this was just the first time I had actually seen it.
So I walked into her house to see the older women all dressed in traditional outfits and dancing in a circle with the tabla drumming in the center. This probably went on for another hour, before the party bus arrived and everyone pilled into go to the bride’s house.
All of a sudden, I heard yallaa yallaa and we filed out again. In contrast to a typical desi function, this only lasted, maybe an hour. Desi functions: minimum 2-3 hours. Back at Mai’s house, now the real party was supposed to begin. The men were sent across the street in a hall type of area to have their own party, while the women changed from their traditional outfits to the modern counterparts. I used to wonder where people wore the miniskirts and party dresses that I always see in stores… I’ll let you take a guess as to what we did next. Yuhp. More dancing. Comparative note: in Pakistani weddings, we replace all the dancing with eating and socializing. I missed the food at this party, but everything else was fun. Too bad I suck at dancing in any remote type of Arab style. Word to the wise: American dancing doesn’t quiet cut it here.
DAY 2: July 25, 2008
Dead Spa
I barely slept Thursday night, because I was afraid I wouldn’t make it into Jerusalem in time to meet up with Nibal and her family. Stupid of me really, and now I’m paying for it. I made it to her house early enough, and within a half hour we were picked up by the bus her family chartered. Now, when I talk about her family, there were probably about 15 of us in total. I’m enjoying all of this family time I’ve been getting, between Mai’s family, and now Nibal’s. We danced, sang and I took a hell of a lot of pictures of the scenery as we drove to the spa. As we got close to the sea, I started to smell rotten eggs ie. the sea (which smells gross by the way). I think what smelled worse was the inside of the spa actually, because of the sulfur pools.
The beach wasn’t like your typical beach. There’s really not a lot of sand, it’s more like rocky salt. The sand there is artificially placed to give people some sort of a place to call a beach, because otherwise the salt gives way to mud. I was in the process of taking my shoes off to get into the water when I realized that the rocky ground was not only scorching hot, but also hurt like hell. So, I went for a dip, shoes and all. But who cares, it was sooooooo cool! I don’t know how to float, but I didn’t have to here! I honestly used to think people were exaggerating when they said, you physically can’t drown in the Dead Sea, but it’s true. I felt like I was practically sitting on top of the water. It was a struggle to get my feet onto the ground so I could make sure I stayed close enough to the shore so I didn’t freak out. I’m not a fan of huge bodies of water where it’s easy to float away from solid ground.
Granted, this soak only lasted a few minutes, the water actually gets tiring and was pretty warm. After we came out, we went for another round of mud before heading back into the normal swimming pool.
So the day didn’t go so badly, aside from my complete lack of essentials: soap, shampoo, lotion, towels, enough clothes, the right type of clothes, etc. etc. It was an experience non the less. I’m not sure how much the minerals helped my skin, I highly doubt one treatment will do miracles, but who knows.
6:45 pm was when someone poured salt on my wound…
Security Drama #4
You know, I’ve gotten used to the usual routine trying to get into Jerusalem. Show them my passport, talk non-stop about what happened at the airport, show them my itinerary, boarding pass, credit cards, IDs, anything American. Eventually after 5 people of increasing rank scan my passport, I’m let go. This time though, they flat out said, No. I couldn’t go into Jerusalem because I didn’t have a visa stamp.
Lost in Translation #5: Visa = Entry Stamp from Ben Gurion Airport and nothing else.
At this point the guards were done talking to me, well didn’t even bother to include me in the discussion from the get go, and were talking to Nibal, and one of her cousins who were trying to explain that I’ve been in and out of Jerusalem on that passport a few times now. Nope, they wouldn’t buy it. They refused to give me my passport back until they were sure I wasn’t going to get onto the bus and try to go into the city. Nibal refused to let me go by myself so she got her stuff and came with.
We had two options at this point. I had to get to Bethlehem that night considering that I had left my stuff at the guest house, and more so because I really wanted to go to the wedding. In order to get into Bethlehem there’s a nasty checkpoint called the “Container”. I could entire return to the nearby village and take a taxi to Bethlehem by myself, or me and Nibal could try to reenter Jerusalem through another checkpoint on the next hill over. But both options involved returning to the village first from the checkpoint.
We stood on the opposite side of the road for about half an hour waiting for a bus, when a man pulled over and offered us a ride. It was Friday evening he told us, and that catching a bus would be close to impossible at this time. We were grateful for the free ride, and he gave us his advice not to try the Container at this time. Eventually we made our way to the other checkpoint for Jerusalem called “Zaytoon”. Time: 7:30 pm.
At every checkpoint you have the option to walk through it instead of staying in a car. Well, if you have a PA ID or are a young male Palestinian, you kind of don’t have a choice. Here everyone had to walk through, which was a whole other dilemma. The security guard sits behind a 3 inch thick glass with a little bank like slit at the bottom for documents. I slid my passport in, and didn’t see it again for about 40 minutes. Unlike the checking that goes on when you’re still in your car, here I didn’t have the chance to tell her anything. Every time I tried to get my attention as I watched her scrutinize my Pakistani visa, UAE stamps, or even my picture, she keep signaling me to wait. Wait for what?? You don’t tell me what’s going on, what you’re looking for. I mean, fine at this point I have enough experience to know, but I’ve learned it’s better to be ignorant than too smart with them. They get really mean and rude when you try to be smart.
After she made about 7 or 8 phone calls (they could have been to the same office, I don’t know considering I couldn’t hear her), she shook her head at me and pointed back at where we entered from. At this point I was pissed, and almost yelling “WHY???” at the glass. Somehow, she still couldn’t hear me. She had brought a higher ranked officer out to take a look at my passport, and he proceeded to come out of the room to talk to us. Not to be sexist or anything, but the guys are always show a bit more respect than the women soldiers. Sorry hun, but you don’t have to be mean just to prove that you’re tough.
This officer came out and basically told Nibal (remember, they don’t talk to me they can easily talk to someone else in Arabic or Hebrew) I didn’t have a visa and couldn’t go in. I interjected and forced her to translate my story for me to him. Subsequently, we slowly moved closer to the exit sign, but stopped again as he kept saying, “No, she can’t go without a visa. She has nothing, this paper supposedly from the Israeli government? It means nothing. It has no names, no stamps, and is completely unusual.”
To be honest, he’s right about that freaking paper. It could easily be produced at home, and has no level of authenticity to it. I should have known better, but at 5 in the morning, while trying to not be instantly skeptical and overcritical of the Israeli government, I didn’t even ask for authentication on it. I was literally naive enough to believe the ‘head of security’ when he told me that no name paper would give me right of passage in and out of the West Bank. Only once, has the checkpoint allowed me passage with that paper, only once. It must have been a fluke because no one else finds it authentic.
Anyways, Nibal essentially talked me through the checkpoint. I honestly think it was her doing, because she and the guard were talking for quite a while, of which I understood barely anything. In the end though, as we walked out he asked her where she lived, if she was married, and continued with the so subtle moves. I found that part hilarious. I had to find minor humor somewhere. Nibal’s sweet talked me into the country. Haha.
I’m sorry, but my dilemma didn’t end here. 8:30 pm and I’m still not in Bethlehem. The wedding started an hour ago. By the time we made it back to her apartment, I gathered my thoughts, and we got to the bus stop, there were no more buses to Bethlehem. It would have cost me an arm and a leg to take a private taxi, besides the fact that I wasn’t going in a taxi that far by myself at night. I know Ramallah by now, but I don’t know Bethlehem and I wasn’t going to risk it. Enough close calls for one day thank you.
DAY 3: Saturday, July 26th
After Friday’s hellish day, and depression at completely missing the wedding I was dying to go to, today was a completely useless day at work. I think I spent most of the morning still pissed that I was wearing the same clothes I did the day before, and constantly feeling like the smell of the sea didn’t leave my skin. So, instead of doing work, I basically wrote everything you read about yesterday. Around two I couldn’t last any longer and left to head back to Bethlehem.
Part of me really wasn’t in the mood to bother with any sightseeing, and just wanted to get home, shower, change and sleep. At the same time though, I knew I’d be wasting away an opportunity to see more of Bethlehem. Flipping through the guide book again, I summed up the energy to hit up two more sites: Sheppard’s Fields, and Solomon’s Pools.
I still don’t know the significance of Sheppard’s Fields, but they were pretty. It’s not really a field, more like a park in the desert, with a wonderfully white shrine located in the middle.
I wandered around the grounds and stumbled upon an excavation site of a 4th, 5th, and 6th century Byzantine Church and Monastery. Now this made up for my Friday. I was shocked because no where were there any do not enter signs, or people watching. I could (well, sort of did) wander down into the caverns and explored to my heart’s content. It was really cool to see, and explore because under the ground I could see places where windows used to be, doors and other structural parts. There were some parts that were marked as either where a stable used to be, or an old olive oil press (random but cool). I wish my archeologist cousin was with me, because I’m sure there was a ton that I probably didn’t notice because I could tell if it was supposed to be something or not.
After wandering around lawlessly on a historic site, I wandered into the souvenir shop across the street from the Fields. Both days that I’ve been in Bethlehem I found the shops to be desolate. For Bethlehem being such a big tourist and religious site, I would have expected bustling shops. With this shop, they didn’t turn on the lights till I walked in. The woman who greeted me as I walked in, for some reason thought I spoke Spanish. Funny, though because that’s the last language I would have expected, but I welcomed the change. We conversed in half Arabic, half Spanish the entire time. It worked out well though and I bought a few things. Another woman rang me up and was showering me with prayers for buying something. She spoke English fluently, so I took the opportunity to ask her why business was so bad.
What I heard astonished me. First off, the tourists don’t even venture into the stores, they see their sites, get on a bus and move on. Secondly, the few that do come in, don’t have money. A few of them have told her that they were told not to come with too much money because it’s dangerous. HA. Bethlehem? Dangerous to a tourist? This has actually been something I’ve heard before too, and it was just shocking. No wonder business is so lacking. Besides the fact that the West Bank is given a pretty bad rep, it’s hard for these people to make ends meet. “If we keep the utilities low by not turning on the lights, we make enough to barely cover the salaries of our employees.” It’s a shame, really. I sat with her and just talked about my experiences and her family in general. It was great, free drinks and a comfortable conversation. People would periodically wander in and out of the conversation, and one such person was a taxi driver. I asked about getting to my second site, Solomon’s pools and he offered to take me for almost nothing. It’s great what you can get if you just take a few minutes and converse with locals.
There’s not much to say about Solomon’s pools. They used to be Roman aqueducts that were still filled up with water, but after a few incidents of children playing and drowning in them, they were emptied. There have been plans of refilling them considering a hotel was built right next door, but they were still empty when I got there.
I got back to Ramallah around 6:30 and never felt so happy to see my apartment building….
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