Shhhh... Sorry mom and dad... but i went to the West Bank.

I wasn't supposed to let my parents know this (so stay hush if you talk to them), but I figure it was okay to blog about it... they'll get over it. I went to Ramallah the other day in the West Bank and explored the forbidden side of Israel. Ramallah is considered the current capital of Palestine and is the home to Arafat's grave. During the 2nd Intifada it was considered very dangerous, but now, they're the good guys in this whole Israeli-Palestinian conflict and I think the most striking part for the four of us traveling together was how normal life seemed east of the concrete wall separating Jerusalem from Palestine. I don't want to depict their lifestyle as easy-- it certainly was not the same standard of living that Israel enjoys-- but it was not destitute either. We realized that should Palestine become its own state, it would still have tons of tourist attractions in Bethleham, Hebron and Jericho to keep their economy going. But for now, I think that many tourists feel unable to see those sites because of the political situation.

We arrived by bus, driving through East Jerusalem (the poorer side of town) and the checkpoints with the help of our new photojournalist friend, Youssef, who we met at the hostel. He took us to Arafat's grave first. The compound was built recently and includes a courtyard, a mosque and a shrine. From far away, the compound looks sharp and is built in white stone, but when you get up close, you begin to notice small flaws-- no glass in the windows or fake tiles. Apparently, they ran out of money towards the end of the construction. Surrounding the site is rubble and empty buildings. Of course, on our first stop in the West bank, we could only think of the worst things happening in those sites... and they probably did. I guess the place where Arafat's tomb lays is the same place he was surrounded by the Israeli army until he died. Still, a parade of men in kefiahs and women in long robes and veils paid their respects as we, clearly the only Americans, stood there with butterflies in our stomachs. To them, it seemed as if it was no big deal that we were Americans. But to us, this place was so loaded and I kept on thinking of all the times my parents called Arafat a 'criminal' or 'murderer.' Youssef then took us back to the center of the town to see the rally that was going on in opposition to Israel's campaign in Gaza. The city was packed with people waving flags, dancing and singing, but unlike the news that could probably depict this rally as angry and agressive, it was really just like any other demonstration that I've been to.... on the boundary between serious and fun with vendors selling food and teenagers taking pictures. Interestingly enough, all of the flags were yellow-- the color for Fatah-- because the West Bank guard had banned Hamas flags at the protest. I took some great pictures!

Afterwards, Youssef pointed us in the right direction and he headed to meet a friend while we explored Ramallah on our own. we stumbled on this modern building that we discovered was a music conservatory that was funded by Sweden, Danish and German philanthropists. This little musical oasis hosted an international community as its staff and volunteers from all over the world. Their mission was to bring music lessons to Ramallah's poorest children and sponsor concerts and festivals throughout the West Bank. They also taught music lessons in the refuge campus twice a week. As any non-profit, it seemed to be understaffed and underfunded, but the facilities were great and everyone who worked there was very welcoming.

We sat down to lunch in Angelo's, the 'Budget' restaurant recommended in the lonely planet guidebook which was sandwiched in between a Mexican restaurant and a chinese seafood restaurant. The four of us recent graduates sat in that little restaurant in the West Bank and epitomized the faux intellectual ex college student American liberal that has been written about in so many beatnick stories throughout the past century. Laura-- graduate from Yale-- wore a colorful scarf draped around her all-black outfit and thick rimmed tortoise shell glasses giving her the sort of Lois Lane/Investigative type look. Matt -- a graduate from Harvard-- wore his jeans, flannel shirt and overgrown scruff. Jaime and I weren't as 'artsy' but were definitely shmata. Jaime and Laura smoked cigarettes as we sat there that day eating french fries and shwarma in the west bank, discussing things ranging from the philosophy of art (will contemporary art be remembered in the same way as some of the masterpieces of the past? is modern art art?) to sweatshops (we had already exhausted the Israel-Palestine debate). I honestly felt like I was a vignette out of a Jack Kerouac or JD Salinger book... but I totally ate it up.

Eventually, it was time to leave. And we jumped on the next bus back to Jerusalem after taking a quick trip through the fruit market. It was everything Aladdin had already prepared me for. Getting back through the check point was a bit more difficult on the way into Israel, but we as Americans were waved right through. At one point they made all the Palestinians our age get off the bus and get patted down as we sat looking out the windows. It was routine for most of them, but that didn't detract from the shamefulness of always being suspect. To be honest, while we felt completely safe throughout the day, when we arrived home we all admitted to being relieved. That was when we decided to not tell mom or dad about our gallavant to the West Bank.

I have so much more to write, but for now, I'm gonna go to bed. At some point I'll update y'all about the rest of my time in Jerusalem, and my trip down to Petra. I'm now in Tel Aviv staying at a friend's house and tomorrow I head up to Haifa and the Galilee to do some Jesus siteseeing. Of course, I have to wait until tomorrow night as all the bus services are closed due to Shabbat. It's amazing how this country shuts down on Friday nights and Saturdays.