A Classic Shot

Even though I get asked more questions at the Israeli customs then all other countries combined, and even though my backpack gets searched for the first time (as horrid flashbacks of “Brokedown Palace” run through my head), I feel unexpectedly relieved when I get to Israel. Arabic gives way to Hebrew, robes erode to tank tops, head coverings transform into koopas, and brown skin morphs into varying shades including white. Best of all, there’s lots of blue eyes.

And no one is staring, watching, scrutinizing, or eyeing me like a piece of meat. Hallelujiah! It is the Holy Land!

Yup, despite the fact that my dollars-turned-shekels don’t stretch as far as I’d like, I slowly exhale a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding since Morocco.

On the way

As Marseille and I take the 4.5 hour bus ride to Jerusalem from the border, I comment how normal the place feels despite the barren terrain. Stop lights are abided by, cars and buses stay in their lanes in an orderly fashion, there’s isn’t much garbage around and the kids on the bus have phones and iPods. The best thing is that everyone speaks English remarkably well and are very friendly and helpful. Sure, there’s a few slight differences- namely the observation that some people are sitting on the bus floor, because it’s full. But all in all, Israel feels really developed and I feel comfortable here.

Interesting stop signs...but they are abided by

Despite the normality, the biggest shock is the massive amount of military guys–boys, really– toting machine guns around. They are slung over their shoulders as casually as handbags. What really strikes us is when we see plain clothes boys with these M-16′s, wandering around in what ap0pears to be a pack of friends. We find out later that military guys get to carry their guns all the time- on duty and off duty. It’s something I never quite get used to, but am constantly fascinated by

Metal detectors are very common. We go through them to get in and out the bus stations and some tourist sites.

Lots of boys with guns

But Jerusalem was bombed in the 90′s. Can you blame them for these security measures?

When we arrive in Jerusalem, we bump into a local woman who assures us that our hostel is only a 15-20 walk. This is about the maximum I like to do with my backpack, especially since my back has been bothering me. She is a very friendly woman, although a little opinionated and chatty. We stop at the market because she needs clementines (oh, my aching back!) and gives us half of them. Then she buys us a Hannukah treat- a creamy chocolate thing that is deliciously rich. Her hospitality is charming. She points out the funny looking garbage cans- they are designed so that if a bomb is thrown in them, it will not blow up the street. She tells us horror stories of the bombings in the 90′s and how some of her friends who saw it still aren’t over it.

The view from the hostel roof at day

It’s a sad, sobering conversation.

She points us in the right direction, telling us she needs to turn now.

And 1.5 hours later we finally find our hostel, my back on fire. It’s dark and our hostel is located in old Jerusalem, ina labyrinth of cobblestone streets that reminds me of Morocco, albeit way less crazy. And I’m glad I’m not alone this time.

We pass this sign on the way to the hostel...so much for the Holy Land!

The Administrative Nightmares of Travel…

The Middle East has treated my passport like a hooker, using and stamping it to it’s heart content. Normally this is cool, but when Marseille casually comments that some countries won’t let you in without a certain amount of blank pages, I panic a little because I only have 2 left. That night at the hostel I frantically Google this and find out few bad things. 1. You can’t add new pages to Canadian passports, so I need a new one. I think I should be okay, but I’ll be cutting it close. 2. You need a VISA for India.

What the heck?

Befor I left, I painstakingly went through every country on my list to ensure that I met entry requirements. The fact that I somehow missed India, #1 on my destination list, baffles me. I feel stupid about this; I know better. I wonder how I missed something this big. I’m a pretty organized person.

But it’s fixable. It will take 7 working days, but I can get my VISA in Dubai. I’m not thrilled about staying in Dubai that long, cutting into precious days of my trip, but I want to go to India badly enough to make it happen.

Marseille’s flights aren’t as flexible as mine and we realize with sinking disappointment that she will have to forego India. I guess I’m meant to go on my own, but it’s a sad prospect. I guess I’m going solo again.

It's cool to be in Israel