Jerusalem day 1

I've arrived!! Yes! It was touch and go - the boats stopped because of the invasion of Gaza and I thought they would resume again, but they aren't doing so until May - so I just got a plane... A huge apology to all those in the global South that will lose out on food and water because of this.

So, after quite an intense entry into Israel and a few hiccups with the flights and not having a visa and not having enough cash available to buy the 'necessary exit ticket', I had to rely on the sympathy of seriously unsympathetic security guards - but I pursuaded them that I had to leave the country because i start at uni in September etc. and they eventually got bored of me (big 'phew' feeling after that one).

Caught a shared taxi to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv with some friendly French Jews going to see their family in a settlement near Hebron and a few Jewish academics from America.. I asked them about the political situation but really didn't want to cause a stir in case they handed me in to the police or something - after all we still had to cross a checkpoint (which was fine, they just waved us on). They seemed really concerned that I was going to stay in the 'arab' area, thinking that i would get kidnapped or terrorrized in some other way! (I'm pretty sure that that was delusional)

So I booked a room for a couple of nights before wandering out to buy a falafel and check out what was happening. Sunshine, brightness, big clean Israeli buildings, tiny old monuments in a tiny old city with huge old and new centres of power, both religious and political. There are just under 6 million Israelis and 6 million Arabs, with a few christians thrown in the mix, such a small population for the headlines that it recieves - if you compare it to Indonesia that has just as much going on in terms of oppression, conflict, jihadist terrorism, and the desire for segments of it's population for autonomous statehood, which gets hardly any coverage despite its 237.5 million population according to an estimate for July 2008. It's all about proximity and history.

You breath the history here - you can almost hear the cries of the Bedouin at the hands of the Jewish clans, the cries of the Jesuits against the hands of the Romans, the cries of the Jews at the hands of the Muslims, the cries of the Muslims at the hands of the cruisaders, the cries of the Mulsims at the hands of the Jewish settlers. In fact, you really do hear the last one.

I was walked back falafel in hand when an Israeli soldier nicked a sweet from a stall, on his way past, the shop owner proclaimed a few words of probably offensive language, to which the solier turned around and started shouting at him. Soldier number 2 watched with finger over the trigger while the first Soldier kicked over his stall of sweets, shouted at him some more, and then swaggered off. I know it's only a small thing, and the sweets had wrappers on so it wasn't too bad, but it just shows the underlying tension of this strange city that preaches peace and practices conflict.

'it's a jungle' the hardline christian that does the washing at the hostel and fulfills his purpose of telling travellars his stories of God and what God says to him 'I grew up in the real jungle in Peru, it's not a physical jungle - it's a jungle of ideas'. Indeed that it is - on one side of the 'Western Wall' Jewish men bow and rock praying to a wall, while their tax money goes on constructing walls to keep out people they believe threaten their chosen community. The other side of the wall is the Temple Mount complex on which the Islamic faith has built several mosques in testament to the ascention of Mohammed when Allah called him up to have a look around heaven. The feeling is very different either side. The muslim side is like a big garden of peace - although you have to be muslim to worship there - the Jewish side of worship has a feeling of supremacy with people displaying their wealth laughing and shouting, but it's inclusive and anyone can worship there (although I'm not sure what would happen if you rocked up with a kafir and prayer mat).

So the place is small, really small, oozing with historical significance under everyone's hunt for money in the markets and the sweaty tourist's loud voices complaining about the hotel or taxi driver or shop owner.

There is stark contrast between the muslim quarter, and the jewish and modern quarters. The former displaying over crowded relative poverty, with colourful grafiti, smells of various foods and kids laughing and playing marbles or football. The latter being pristine, perfectly gardened, clean, full of shops that match Oxford/Bond street and smart cafe's, with beautiful empty parks and fountains. The former littered with army personell the latter guarded by private security. Job allocation, though it may just happen naturally, seems to be clearly done along racial lines, with the Arabic population building and cleaning and driving and selling junk to tourists - the Jewish population providing services etc. But bear in mind this is my first day and I'm generalising but it's based on what I've seen.

As I was walking up to the ancient walls of the old city, I passed a Jewish gentleman shouting angrily at some Arabic grave diggers, to see two Arabic gentelmen next to a smashed up car - this had been done by hand. The probable owner of the car was on the point of tears, the other was having a concerned smoke, staring at the ground. I asked if he was ok "quai fahaluk?" and he replied with a big soft smile "allhamdullah" or "praise be to God" which I think translates as I'm really good thanks to God, certainly a positive response anyway. It really melted my heart - he showed real gratitude for me asking and refused any help in the most graceful way that i can think of. A police car was on the opposite side of the road but I don't think that arabic property is protected by the state in quite the same way that Jewish or Christian Israeli property is. I could really feel his despair and hopelessness - I don't know what insurance is like here but I don't think that he had comprehensive cover...

After that I returned to the roomy and characterful hostel with carpets hanging on the wall and a gentle African American strumming a guitar that he had just started learning at the reception desk, carpets hanging on the wall, chunky desktop that I'm writing on now, dirty windows and amazing view from the roof looking past the spires of the Christian and Armenian quarters, Al-Aqsa and the Dome of the Rock which is a gold plated dome sitting on an intricately painted blue and white mosque - to the mount of olives, which is a hill that is covered in graves of Jewish people that want to be there for the sake of being close to the happenings on the day of judgement, and Christians who want to be buried there as it is the place of Christ's supposed ascention to heaven. The white graves reflect the sun off the hill like scales. It is beautiful. Jerusalem is beautiful, even the piles of litter you occasionally come accross in the Muslim quarter have their charm.

I returned to sleep at 6pm, as I'd been travelling for around 3 or 4 days that kind of blurred into one with snatched hours of sleep getting me through and really not much to eat. I was pretty nackered. But before I got ready for bed I had a short exchange with my room mate - a 40 year old Israeli. He started talking about how educated all the British were, and then he mentioned that General Allenby stayed in this hotel, then said that Palestine was British since the Second world war until Independance. I had to correct him that it was during the first world war that it became British mandate - to which he gave me a fist to punch. "the sun never set on the British Empire hey" and gave me another fist - to which I said that I was more of a Ghandi than a Churchill (what I meant was that I prefered Ghandi to Churchill but I always mince my words hey?) - he took a step back and said "wow, I like that. I'd marry Ghandi you know" - "yeah?" "yeah, peace is so beautiful man. I served in the Israeli army for 5 years, I had to do that as an officer, but that was 20 years ago. Do you know what we could do with all the money that goes on war? Can you imagine?" "well, you're supported by America $6 billion a year - and wouldn't the money disappear?" "what do you think wars are, cheap? one missile costs $1 million" "yeah, only 6000 missiles hey?" "60 percent of our GNP goes on the war - we have really high taxes" "wow 60 percent?" "yeah, and Israel still refuses any solution. 60 years, we have all the power but no solution. Don't change man, be a Ghandi, the world needs more Ghandi's. You'll go far, but whatever you do don't change man." He said as he walked off to go to the hostel two doors down that charged less than half the price if you were jewish but 10 sheckles over the price if you're not "racist bastards" is what he called them before going to sleep under their roof.

I'm off to the west bank tomorrow - wish me luck!

The Dam

So, I'm on my way. Teaching qualification in one hand and my thumb stuck out of the other... Well, OK, I took the coach to the Netherlands and have been chilling here with my good friend, checking out the flower markets, going to a couple of talks, I even helped teach my first lesson to some Dutch children. It would have been nerve racking but it was in such a chilled out school, based on Dalton with a splash of Montesoury to it. IT WAS AMAZING. What a good school, a little primary with its own gym teacher doing the rings judo and vaulting all at once, children joining in with lessons when they want to but mainly studying voluntarily, no bullying in the playground, smiles allround. And this was a state school. I just kept asking myself; "why didn't I grow up in a school like this? Why don't we all do something more like this? How has Britain's education system become so pants?" Apparently if you have a group of 40 interested families living in proximity they will get enough funding to collectively educate their children with state funds, or start a school of their own.

It has been sunny loveliness since I've been here, and I spent a day in the tropical museum - which pretty much documents the main cultures of each continent with a special vodou exhibition (now spelt vodoo) with some real human skulls, which is always fun - reminded me of medical school and the mostly compassionate sanitised and evidence based modern day shamen that use skulls there. Also had a quick look around the Van Gogh gallery - not such a pretty name when you pronounce it in Dutch, the Japanese stuff was cool.

This is the last stop before I charge down to Jerusalem hopefully for the 5th of April or something. I was thinking about hanging around for the G20 and Climate Camp and the Put People First march in London, which will be amazing. The gentleman with which I was supposed to be hitching with to Palestine has been held up until then, but I just want to get there now - it's been too long and the more time I've got there the better I'll know what's going on etc.

So the plan is leave Amsterdam around the 21st, then hitch down through France and Italy to Naples where I'll catch the boat to Egypt then shimmy up to Jerusalem. I am tempted to go through Germany as well... Hmmm... Lotsh of exshiting poshibilitiesh (Dutch accents are lovely).

Amsterdam has treated me so so well, I've been to a little party on a big boat (where you can live in little cabins like an apartment block - housing is in short supply here so you see containters with windows in and many many house boats along the canals) two people have cooked me up some vegan pastry things, a vegan pie... mmmm. Ok Tom, focus. So, I'm off to see a trial at the Hague of Lukunda of the Lord's Resistance Army in the Eastern side of the Democratic Republic of Congo - this was thought to have been a paramilitary wing of the Tutsi government in Rwanda taking revenge for the Hutu massacre in the Genocide in the '90s on the Hutus that fled the country for the Congo accross the border. But the Rwandan Government had a large hand in turning him in after tacitly not condeming what he was doing for a considerable time. He used a militia whose front line was mainly comprised of co-erced and manipulated child soldiers. I don't know how many of them are still fighting looting and raping on his behalf at the moment. The trial is ongoing for about a week or so - so I'm not sure how good it will be. I'm a bit aprehensive of it having a bit of a public execution feel, but I'm going mainly to find out what he did rather than boo and hiss.

OK, so, I'll put another post up in a few weeks.