When I was going through security at El Al on my way to Israel/Palestine, the security person questioned why I wasn’t with a group tour. He said, “Nobody your age travels alone like this.” He wasn’t impressed with my independent spirit. Rather, he thought I was a spy.

Flattered that he thought I had what it takes to be a spy (Jason Bourne flashed through my mind for a quick second, my pecs flexed instinctively), but insulted by his agism comment, I told him that I don’t like to follow umbrellas around and ride in tour buses looking down out the window on real life happening below. I don’t like to feel like a fish in a mobile aquarium. That I like to meet new people.

Besides, on tours you only meet the people you are on tour with. People on group tours from Canada meet a lot of other Canadians. Tours from Australia meet more Australians. Koreans meet Koreans…you get the point. 

A group of Chinese tourists in Jerusalem’s Old City clogging a main walkway as they stop to take pictures of an Arab woman working her fruit stand. They were on an “Eternity Tour.” Which I only know because that was the logo on the crown of the white golf hats everyone in the group was wearing. The tour guide chose a yellow flag rather than an umbrella, probably because of the narrow quarters. Good call.

Traveling alone you can go where you want, when you want, with whom you want, only seeing umbrellas on rainy days or in fancy drinks — and meet people like Miriam at a coffee shop in East Jerusalem and learn something new over lattes. Which is exactly what happened to me.

Miriam is a Postdoctorate Fellow at Hebrew University of Jerusalem doing research on — get this — how traveling in group tours stunts one’s growth in terms of developing a better understanding of new people and cultures. I kid you not!  That’s her area of specialty! What are the odds of me running into someone like Miriam just days after the Q & A session I fell victim to at the airport? (See Blog 1, “Growth Spurt”)

Miriam is living in Jerusalem to study the relationship between Indonesia and the Middle East, between Muslims, Christians and Jews, between locals and tourists. I learned that Christian and Muslim Indonesians take sides in the conflict between Palestine and Israel. I didn’t know that. And that Palestinians and Israelis have LESS contact with each other today than at any other time in history (something I’d heard anecdotally from others, but Miriam confirmed). 

Not only are Palestinians and Israelis separated by the wall, but they choose to self-segregate as people. In Jerusalem, Jewish Israelis tend to stay in West Jerusalem and Christian and Muslim Palestinians stay in East Jerusalem (which is something I might write about later).

Which certainly doesn’t help them find common ground. 

I shared with Miriam a copy of my first blog and she responded with this: “A growth spurt in cultural awareness and understanding, creativity, imagination and character” is what I aim at through my teaching and research activities 🙂 

Flattered as I was that she liked what I wrote, I was more excited that I got a smiley face from a PhD! I felt like a 5th grader getting a gold star on a project from his favorite teacher (only Miriam is younger than me, and much smarter and more accomplished than Mrs. Gassensmith ever was…sorry Mrs. G!)

Miriam told me about a Palestinian movement gaining steam here called the “Anti-Normalization” movement. It is peaceful, and basically argues that Palestinians and Israelis shouldn’t work together on, well, anything really — political, social, cultural initiatives — until certain (major) conditions are met in the Palestinian’s favor. 

So, for example, the movement believes that Palestinian soccer players should not play on the Israeli national soccer team (Olympics, FIFA), a normal aspiration for a great soccer player, because it gives the world the impression that Palestinians are on equal turf with Israelis when, in fact, they are not. The same argument holds true for things like the symphony.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Needless to say, there are people that support this movement, and there are those that don’t. But that discussion is way beyond my pay grade.

Conditions and politics aside, it is the boycotting of people-to-people interactions that is challenging to Miriam and so many others, including me as I learn more about it. 

Which brings me full-circle as to why I think traveling alone is so freaking awesome! You get to meet new people like Miriam at a random coffee shop that would not be on a tour bus route (and no one blows a whistle telling you it is time to stop talking and move on!)

Traveling alone you can go anywhere, meet anyone, stay as long as you’d like — and learn as much as you are willing to learn by asking questions, listening well and keeping an open mind. 

Meet, talk, listen and learn. All over a cup of latte. Which is the true benefit of “people-to-people interaction,” I’d say.

Now, if only the latte had a little umbrella in it, we’d be golden!

Thank you, Miriam, for making me smarter today than I was yesterday!

PALRAEL 

Follow me on Instagram  @PALRAEL

I came to the Holy Land praying for a growth spurt.

Not a physical one, hoping to become six-foot-six. Nor a spiritual one, as a trip to the Holy Land might suggest.

Rather, I am praying for a growth spurt in cultural awareness and understanding, creativity, imagination and character. A growth spurt of person.

I read an inspirational quote on personal development that said: “First, choose the options that thrill you. Then, choose the options that also teach you. And from these, choose the option that scares you most. Butterflies in your stomach are good.”

So here I am in Israel (Palestine, the West Bank, the Holy Land — take your pick of names) looking to grow over the next eight weeks while advising a non-profit publication whose mission is to build peace between Palestine and Israel by providing its readers balanced perspectives on both sides of the argument. 

And, yes, I am scared. Scared, and a bit paranoid.

The butterflies flew and paranoia grew well before take-off. 

The gauntlet of questions El Al’s (the Israeli airline) security team hit me with at check-in got my trip off to a sweaty start. Where are you going in Israel? How long are you staying? Why so long a time for such a small country? Do you know anybody here? Where are you staying? What do you do for work? How can you be away so long? Can I see an example of the work you do? If you’re a tourist, why didn’t you come with a group? Oh, your friend from Jordan suggested Petra. Did he ask you to bring anything with you? Who packed your bags? Do you live alone? Where else have you traveled? Why did you choose Israel of all places to visit?

I have never felt so unwelcome in a place where I had yet arrive.

That last question, “Why Israel,” I knew was a loaded one, so I deflected it by flattering the security guard’s homeland. It must have worked as I eventually passed through (though not without a special requirement to hand-check my bag).

Why did I choose Israel instead of, let’s say, Istanbul to get uncomfortable? It was a loaded question because I knew that if I answered it truthfully they would not let me board the plane.

The true answer is this: 

I had never heard the word “Nakba” until about 10 months ago.

With a Bachelors degree in History, and life-long (though casual) interest in foreign affairs, I had heard about the 1947 U.N. Mandate to create Israel, the Six Day War, the raid on Entebbe, the two Intifadas, Yasser Arafat and the PLO, Gaza, Hamas, Abbas, The West Bank and the Green Line. History 101 stuff.

But not the Nakba. Not the “Catastrophe.”

Not until I met Amal, who was born and raised in Amman, Jordan, before moving to the U.S. at age 21 and becoming an American citizen, did I ever hear the word “Nakba.”

Amal told me about the Nakba and how Americans only heard the Israeli version of events that transpired in 1948 when Israel became an official state and reclaimed “their” land by displacing over 700,000 Palestinians from their land and homes with no good place to go and no right to return.

I can see how one people’s independence is another people’s catastrophe.

Curious to learn more, and coincidentally timed with the 100-year anniversary of the Balfour Declaration which gave Zionism a real turbo-charge, I picked up a newly published history book, “Enemies and Neighbors: Arabs and Jews in Palestine and Israel, 1917 – 2017,” by British journalist Ian Black.

In it, Black guides the reader through a chronological, fact-based, history of the relationship between Arabs and Jews in the land of Palestine/Israel starting with the launch of the Zionist movement in 1897. This book changed the way I looked at Palestine, Palestinians, Israel, Jews, Zionists and the Arab states that surround them. It changed the way I view Palestine and Palestinians for the better; of Israel, Zionism and the Arab states, well, not so much.

 

 

Talk about ironic: this iconic poster
was designed in 1936 by Franz Krausz
on commission from the Tourist
Development Association of Palestine to encourage Jews to visit and move to the
area then known as Mandatory Palestine.

 

 

The book inspired me to visit Palestine/Israel to get a first-hand taste of, to the degree possible, the plight of the Palestinians and the perspective of the Israelis — my personal growth spurt. I am doing my best to come in with eyes-wide-open, and am fully aware of my naiveté on this topic. 

The fundamental issue is this: two people, one land. And the two people despise each other.

Israelis (some, not all) consider Palestinians to be dirty terrorists. Palestinians (all) say they have been occupied and abused by Israel for decades and want the right to return to land (and in many cases, specific homes) that was once theirs. 

Is a two-state solution possible? Is co-existence possible? Is the status quo tenable? Can personal perceptions be changed?

Answers to these questions won’t come within the next eight weeks, I know (see “naiveté” above).  But it is exciting to be in the middle of the action in Jerusalem, working with, and discussing such heady issues with people who live them, and passionately try to solve them, every day.

So, let’s see where this story goes. Let’s see where this journey takes us. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find a ray of hope for peace in the Middle East! 

(If not, at least there is still hope you will learn where to get the best falafel sandwich in East Jerusalem! I think I found that place today, in fact. And it was only 8 shekels! But you’ll have to keep reading my blog or follow me on Instagram @PALRAEL to find out where.)

Peace!

PALRAEL