This is my first blog entry in a while. Last time I posted, I was getting ready to start the Middle Eastern portion of my adventure. Since then, I briefly stopped by Dubai and spent time with Shadi, Nick, Sham, and Deni, two I knew from Indian yoga and two I met through them. One of the best parts of this trip is the people I've met. Ok, so it's really the best part.
(Wish I had a picture with Sham and Deni to upload, but technology isn't my friend right now)
After Dubai, I spent about 2 weeks in Jordan. The food in Amman was fantastic. The ruins at Petra were everything I hoped they would be, and more. Not to mention I was lucky to have such great company. I've traveled alone for almost the whole trip, but having friends to explore new areas with makes the adventure even more meaningful.
After Jordan, Juio and I took a short 2-day trip into the Palestinian Territories, specifically the West Bank. As I mentioned on Facebook, the people we met were the nicest I've met on my entire trip. We took local transportation from East Jerusalem, got lost a few times, but people were so friendly and always guided us along with the best intentions.
(Julio and I in a Palestinian internet cafe, trying to locate the hostel)
We spent time in the city of Ramallah as well as a small town called Taybeh, the home of the only Palestinian brewery. The woman who runs the place now is actually from Boston - still a US citizen, though her Palestinian heritage bars her from enterring Israel without obtaining a written permit - per Israeli law - which is difficult to get. Unlike almost anywhere else in the world, in Israel her US passport means nothing, simply because of her ethnic background.
After 2 short days in Jerusalem, Julio took off for home and I moved on to Turkey. It was great. With close friends Greg, Sandeep, and Debbie, I saw the Blue Mosque and Ayasofia, as well as other lesser-known attractions (Who could forget the Tardis Cafe?)
Sandeep and I spent a week or so trekking, camping, and playing on ancient ruins in Southern Turkey along the Lycian Way. We walked on top of ancient Roman buildings and columns, which would have been behind glass in a museum if they were in the USA.
After 3 weeks in Turkey, I flew to Tel Aviv. For me, this is where things got both more challenging and meaningful. I was conscious of fighting an internal battle with myself, because part of me simply didn't want to like Israel. If you pay attention to my Facebook feed, you'll remember the struggle I had with Israeli security in the airport before flying to Turkey. A short summary, I got interrogated 4 times before even making it to security, at which point I was detained for an hour and strip-searched. They didn't answer my questions as to why I was being detained, during or after the experience. It was for "security reasons" was all they said.
In addition to this experience, for as long as I can remember, I've sympathized with the Palestinian people as victims of ethnic cleansing (by definition) at the hands of the Israeli government. A lot of this comes from my background in human rights studies and, in particular, a focus on genocide and related crimes against humanity. Most of my previous academic work relates to these issues, and I take a very critical perspective against the perpetrator governments.
Not surprisingly, when I arrived, I viewed Tel Aviv with some resentment. Which might sound funny if you flew straight here and Tel Aviv is all you saw. It is a small San Diego, in my view. It has a beautiful beach that runs the entire length of the city (and beyond). The weather is sunny and in the high 70s. The people are very friendly. The culture is very open in that you can have tattoos, crazy hair styles, PDA, and women wearing bathing suits in public and no one bats an eyelash. This is a big positive change from everywhere else I've been in the past 7+ months. It reminds me a lot of the West Coast mentality. Everyone is having fun on the beach or drinking in bars and nightclubs.
The thing is, it would be easy to visit or even live in this environment and be completely ignorant of what's happening just a few miles away (Israel is a VERY small place) at the checkpoints or in the West Bank or Gaza. You do see the soldiers, everywhere. Many of them carry weapons. This shocked me at first, but even I've become used to it already, as just another normal part of life here. Even after my interrogations, I don't fear them, because it really does seem so natural now. I can imagine that for Israelis it's even more true, especially since they all have served or will serve - military service is oligatory. My point is, I'm not sure the presence of the military makes the realities of what's happening in Palestine any more real for civilians. The other thing people have mentioned, that would bring these realities close to home, are bombings. These have happened in Tel Aviv. The most recent one I can find happened in 2012, when a bus was bomed, killing 11 people. Not living here, it's impossible to imagine what effect that would have on a person's psyche and view of the conflict.
Arriving and seeing the opulence in which people live in Tel Aviv, as compared to my experience in the Palestinian Territories, made me feel guilty. I didn't want to enjoy all this because I knew it was made possible by the oppression of an entire ethnicity of people. It felt wrong. And then it made me angry. It was frustrating to see life carried on "as normal" at the expense of people so close by; and that so many people were seemingly ignorant of it.
In my conversations with Israelis about these issues, it's rare to find anyone who truly empathizes with the Palestinian people. I've met a couple who have worked toward peace through various means, doing activities that are truly inspiring, though they are few and far between.
(These are a couple pictures of guys I met who are trying to set up free WiFi in refugee areas in Tel Aviv. At least one of them has also participated in dialogues with Palestinians to figure out peaceful means of moving forward)
But most who I met are openly racist against Arabs, assume Palestinians would love to see an Israeli dead, and are likely to decieve or kidnap you at the first chance. To be clear, I'm not making this up or exagerrating, these exact sentiments were communicated to me directly in at least two conversations so far. Others were less proud of their racism, didn't have the same fear of kidnapping, etc.
Many also buy into what I think of as the "Republican" mindset. Many Israelis believe that Palestinians have been given just as much opportunity as they were since 1948, they just haven't used it as well. They need to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps," as the Israelis have done. One man (incorrectly) told me that Palestine receives the most aid world-wide, they just don't use it in the right ways. An older woman didn't like how some Arabs in Israel still speak Arabic amongst themselves.
And that is what strikes me as one of the biggest issues here. Many Israelis I've met and talked to about these issues seem incredibly ignorant of the facts. Only two of them had ever even been to the Palestinian Territories: One for a summer beer festival at the brewery I mentioned (done despite an Israeli-government imposed ban on Israelis enterring particular areas of Palestine) and the second during military service. In other words, most have very strong opinions about Palestinians and their plight based simply on what they see in the media, rather than from direct experience. And who can blame them, when the government places signs around the checkpoints which say you risk death by enterring, if you are an Israeli.
I was surprised how angry I got about all this. I wanted to enjoy the beautiful place in front of me, but found it difficult given what I had previously seen and learned. I started looking more deeply into my feelings about it and realized something interesting. This guilt and anger, stemming from gaining oppulence by oppressing a group of people, wasn't new. It's something I've been a part of in the USA since birth. I owe my relative wealth of land, income, style of life, etc. to the genocide of the Native American population, the crime of slavery and continual abuse of African-Americans through the American political and economic system, and countless individuals the world-over who have suffered and continue to suffer so that I can buy an iPhone and wear particular types of clothing. It's ongoing. It's just not as obvious to us Americans because it's typically far away, we don't get bombed (often) for it, and we choose not to think of it in these terms. We live with a sense of entitlement to what we feel we've earned (again, the Republican attitude of boostraps), ignoring the underlying realities that support the self-gratifying monument we've built to ourselves.
Ultimately, I think we ignore these realities because they implictly impose a heavy burden. If we accepted this knowledge, we might feel compelled to act to repair these injustices, which would necessitate a loss in some level of comfort or power which we currently enjoy. So we stick with being willfully ignorant, because it's easy. To be clear, I don't blame the average Israeli for this anymore than the average American for something similar. This isn't an issue of individuals as much as it is a systemic problem, something that needs to be addressed on larger levels.
That is my rant. It represents journal entries I've been writing since arrival. Currently, I've been enjoying the country and it's beauty, but am also mentally putting things in perspective by not allowing myself to forget how it is all made possible.
(Wish I had a picture with Sham and Deni to upload, but technology isn't my friend right now)
After Dubai, I spent about 2 weeks in Jordan. The food in Amman was fantastic. The ruins at Petra were everything I hoped they would be, and more. Not to mention I was lucky to have such great company. I've traveled alone for almost the whole trip, but having friends to explore new areas with makes the adventure even more meaningful.
After Jordan, Juio and I took a short 2-day trip into the Palestinian Territories, specifically the West Bank. As I mentioned on Facebook, the people we met were the nicest I've met on my entire trip. We took local transportation from East Jerusalem, got lost a few times, but people were so friendly and always guided us along with the best intentions.
(Julio and I in a Palestinian internet cafe, trying to locate the hostel)
We spent time in the city of Ramallah as well as a small town called Taybeh, the home of the only Palestinian brewery. The woman who runs the place now is actually from Boston - still a US citizen, though her Palestinian heritage bars her from enterring Israel without obtaining a written permit - per Israeli law - which is difficult to get. Unlike almost anywhere else in the world, in Israel her US passport means nothing, simply because of her ethnic background.
After 2 short days in Jerusalem, Julio took off for home and I moved on to Turkey. It was great. With close friends Greg, Sandeep, and Debbie, I saw the Blue Mosque and Ayasofia, as well as other lesser-known attractions (Who could forget the Tardis Cafe?)
Sandeep and I spent a week or so trekking, camping, and playing on ancient ruins in Southern Turkey along the Lycian Way. We walked on top of ancient Roman buildings and columns, which would have been behind glass in a museum if they were in the USA.
After 3 weeks in Turkey, I flew to Tel Aviv. For me, this is where things got both more challenging and meaningful. I was conscious of fighting an internal battle with myself, because part of me simply didn't want to like Israel. If you pay attention to my Facebook feed, you'll remember the struggle I had with Israeli security in the airport before flying to Turkey. A short summary, I got interrogated 4 times before even making it to security, at which point I was detained for an hour and strip-searched. They didn't answer my questions as to why I was being detained, during or after the experience. It was for "security reasons" was all they said.
In addition to this experience, for as long as I can remember, I've sympathized with the Palestinian people as victims of ethnic cleansing (by definition) at the hands of the Israeli government. A lot of this comes from my background in human rights studies and, in particular, a focus on genocide and related crimes against humanity. Most of my previous academic work relates to these issues, and I take a very critical perspective against the perpetrator governments.
Not surprisingly, when I arrived, I viewed Tel Aviv with some resentment. Which might sound funny if you flew straight here and Tel Aviv is all you saw. It is a small San Diego, in my view. It has a beautiful beach that runs the entire length of the city (and beyond). The weather is sunny and in the high 70s. The people are very friendly. The culture is very open in that you can have tattoos, crazy hair styles, PDA, and women wearing bathing suits in public and no one bats an eyelash. This is a big positive change from everywhere else I've been in the past 7+ months. It reminds me a lot of the West Coast mentality. Everyone is having fun on the beach or drinking in bars and nightclubs.
The thing is, it would be easy to visit or even live in this environment and be completely ignorant of what's happening just a few miles away (Israel is a VERY small place) at the checkpoints or in the West Bank or Gaza. You do see the soldiers, everywhere. Many of them carry weapons. This shocked me at first, but even I've become used to it already, as just another normal part of life here. Even after my interrogations, I don't fear them, because it really does seem so natural now. I can imagine that for Israelis it's even more true, especially since they all have served or will serve - military service is oligatory. My point is, I'm not sure the presence of the military makes the realities of what's happening in Palestine any more real for civilians. The other thing people have mentioned, that would bring these realities close to home, are bombings. These have happened in Tel Aviv. The most recent one I can find happened in 2012, when a bus was bomed, killing 11 people. Not living here, it's impossible to imagine what effect that would have on a person's psyche and view of the conflict.
Arriving and seeing the opulence in which people live in Tel Aviv, as compared to my experience in the Palestinian Territories, made me feel guilty. I didn't want to enjoy all this because I knew it was made possible by the oppression of an entire ethnicity of people. It felt wrong. And then it made me angry. It was frustrating to see life carried on "as normal" at the expense of people so close by; and that so many people were seemingly ignorant of it.
In my conversations with Israelis about these issues, it's rare to find anyone who truly empathizes with the Palestinian people. I've met a couple who have worked toward peace through various means, doing activities that are truly inspiring, though they are few and far between.
(These are a couple pictures of guys I met who are trying to set up free WiFi in refugee areas in Tel Aviv. At least one of them has also participated in dialogues with Palestinians to figure out peaceful means of moving forward)
But most who I met are openly racist against Arabs, assume Palestinians would love to see an Israeli dead, and are likely to decieve or kidnap you at the first chance. To be clear, I'm not making this up or exagerrating, these exact sentiments were communicated to me directly in at least two conversations so far. Others were less proud of their racism, didn't have the same fear of kidnapping, etc.
Many also buy into what I think of as the "Republican" mindset. Many Israelis believe that Palestinians have been given just as much opportunity as they were since 1948, they just haven't used it as well. They need to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps," as the Israelis have done. One man (incorrectly) told me that Palestine receives the most aid world-wide, they just don't use it in the right ways. An older woman didn't like how some Arabs in Israel still speak Arabic amongst themselves.
And that is what strikes me as one of the biggest issues here. Many Israelis I've met and talked to about these issues seem incredibly ignorant of the facts. Only two of them had ever even been to the Palestinian Territories: One for a summer beer festival at the brewery I mentioned (done despite an Israeli-government imposed ban on Israelis enterring particular areas of Palestine) and the second during military service. In other words, most have very strong opinions about Palestinians and their plight based simply on what they see in the media, rather than from direct experience. And who can blame them, when the government places signs around the checkpoints which say you risk death by enterring, if you are an Israeli.
I was surprised how angry I got about all this. I wanted to enjoy the beautiful place in front of me, but found it difficult given what I had previously seen and learned. I started looking more deeply into my feelings about it and realized something interesting. This guilt and anger, stemming from gaining oppulence by oppressing a group of people, wasn't new. It's something I've been a part of in the USA since birth. I owe my relative wealth of land, income, style of life, etc. to the genocide of the Native American population, the crime of slavery and continual abuse of African-Americans through the American political and economic system, and countless individuals the world-over who have suffered and continue to suffer so that I can buy an iPhone and wear particular types of clothing. It's ongoing. It's just not as obvious to us Americans because it's typically far away, we don't get bombed (often) for it, and we choose not to think of it in these terms. We live with a sense of entitlement to what we feel we've earned (again, the Republican attitude of boostraps), ignoring the underlying realities that support the self-gratifying monument we've built to ourselves.
Ultimately, I think we ignore these realities because they implictly impose a heavy burden. If we accepted this knowledge, we might feel compelled to act to repair these injustices, which would necessitate a loss in some level of comfort or power which we currently enjoy. So we stick with being willfully ignorant, because it's easy. To be clear, I don't blame the average Israeli for this anymore than the average American for something similar. This isn't an issue of individuals as much as it is a systemic problem, something that needs to be addressed on larger levels.
That is my rant. It represents journal entries I've been writing since arrival. Currently, I've been enjoying the country and it's beauty, but am also mentally putting things in perspective by not allowing myself to forget how it is all made possible.
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