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Journal, March 6, 2006—Arrival

Having arrived in East Jerusalem late last night, via Ben Gurion airport and a long sherut (shared taxi) ride dropping me off near the Damascus gate, I feel home. Or almost home. Today Ramallah and finding the owner of the apt I've rented near Al Manarah, the city center.

Home enough to catch up on the lost sleep of the 15-hour flight. The airport was simple: no papers to fill out, no fees, and only a few questions about the purpose of my visit, where I'd be going, who I'd see (I'd rehearsed answers--coming to see friends, visiting the holy sites, nothing about Palestine or water, but none of this was necessary), and then the visa stamped into my passport (I'd meant to ask for a stamp on separate paper but forgot, now I'll be unable to visit Arabic countries without treaties with Israel, like Syria and Lebanon, but would I ever?). Walking away I thought to check the duration: 3months. No problem. How much simpler this is than going thru Amman Jordan and crossing at Allenby.

By way of contrast, a young man I've just met at the hostel, a Pakistani-American, was held for 10 hours at the airport for intensive questioning and luggage inspection. He was coming from Turkey, adding to the suspicion. Immediately on leaving the plane he was stopped. Eventually his American passport saved the day.

The hostel where I stay, F, is a center for resistance work among internationals. I shared the dorm room with a set of 4 circus performers, collectively known as boom chucka, who are in the territories for 3 months entertaining and training. Their website is circus2iraq.org. 3 of the 4 have dreads, one is pierced profusely, they come from various regions in the UK. Yesterday they were in a refugee camp near Ramallah, one outside the authority of both the PA and the Israelis. They reported chaos.

The Auschwitz to Hiroshima pilgrimage resided here in 1995, I not with them. But Dan remembers the place fondly. Two groups of young Japanese are staying here now, I presume as supporters of the resistance or as tourists. Also in residence is a German, Oliver, who is said to be computer expert, and one other American, we shared the Ethernet cables last night when I happily went on line.

H is the guru here, an energetic and dedicated man who apparently had a stroke. His right side is feeble, his hand hangs limply down and he toddles, pulling his leg after him. I have a hard time understanding his speech. But he knows where the action is. When I asked him about joining resistance work with my camera, he lit up and told me about 3 actions planned for this Fri., one in B. He encouraged me to buy a cell phone and stay in touch so I could meet the others in Ramallah.