I'm usually able to navigate from point A to point B. Whether driving or out for a walk, I notice the places I’ve passed, and check my GPS to be certain that I’ll get to my destination. But this place… it’s just tough to get around.
To begin with, the signage is difficult to read. I'm not familiar with the two main languages here, Arabic and Hebrew. On our first trip to the grocery store, our team selected our food based on the picture on the container. Nothing here seems to have price tags, and at three weeks it still takes time to do the shekels to dollars conversion in my head. It was a hilarious first outing.
Navigating the narrow East Jerusalem streets is also laughable. I understand 100% why the program forbids us from renting a car. There is no parking available, so people tend to leave their cars half or fully on the sidewalks. This means that pedestrians walk in the middle of the road so that we are better seen. Two way streets often become temporarily one way out of necessity. Cars must be outfitted with careful steering and good brakes to avoid accidents.
The bus system is another way of getting around, but I haven't been completely successful at that either. I have been trying to use Mapquest/Google Maps for tips on which bus to get on where, and which bus stop to get off. But, because we are in an annexed area, the maps are incomplete, and often a query will come back with results "No destination found".
The buses here ONLY stop at the designated bus stops if they need to pick someone up. So, counting the stops can be a disaster – as happened to me travelling alone to a Sabeel Bible study across town Thursday, and to Bethlehem with my teammate Yuni last night.
The Bethlehem adventure is probably the funniest one yet, in a sad kind of way.
The Bethlehem adventure is probably the funniest one yet, in a sad kind of way.
Our plan was to be at St. Katherine's in Bethlehem at 5pm, (next to the Church of the Nativity) for an ecumenical prayer service between the heads of churches. It was a big deal because the Catholic Archbishop would be there (as in the States, Catholics, Orthodox and Reformed churches usually do not join together for ecumenical services). Since Yuni and I are the only practicing Christians on our team, we are always eager to go to these kind of things.
Earlier I planned out on. I thought having two hours to go the 6 miles between Jerusalem and Bethlehem would be fine. I’d even have enough time to show my South Korean teammate around the church of the Nativity! Why two hours? Because the trip that should be six miles became 40 miles in 2002, when a wall separating Greater Jerusalem and Bethlehem was built. All traffic coming in and out must go through a checkpoint.
The Google pointed us to the secondary bus station on Sulemann St to board bus 286 (which we were supposed to ride for 2 stops). The 286 comes every 20 minutes like clockwork, but school had also let out, and teens wearing various lovely hijab or the distinctive Palestinian ‘cool teen guy’ haircut swarmed around us. It's good manners to let them go before us, so we did that. A lot. It took two rounds of buses before we finally boarded.
Remember how I said that buses don’t stop as planned? This one didn’t stop and took us way past where we were supposed to get off and through a Bedouin village. Once we were the only two people left on the bus, I got up the nerve to ask “Hey, is this the bus to Bethlehem?” Thankfully, the driver was very nice and explained to us that we needed to go to the central bus station. He drove us back so we could walk a half mile to pick up the 231 just outside Damascus Gate – the best route.
We knew we’d be late to this very important church service, because this second but left about 45 minutes before the service was to start! As we waited, I met a new friend Leo and his sweet four year old daughter Jasmine. Leo lived in the Midwest for 18 years, and had a perfect American accent. He put me at ease answering my questions about how to get around.
Earlier I planned out on. I thought having two hours to go the 6 miles between Jerusalem and Bethlehem would be fine. I’d even have enough time to show my South Korean teammate around the church of the Nativity! Why two hours? Because the trip that should be six miles became 40 miles in 2002, when a wall separating Greater Jerusalem and Bethlehem was built. All traffic coming in and out must go through a checkpoint.
The Google pointed us to the secondary bus station on Sulemann St to board bus 286 (which we were supposed to ride for 2 stops). The 286 comes every 20 minutes like clockwork, but school had also let out, and teens wearing various lovely hijab or the distinctive Palestinian ‘cool teen guy’ haircut swarmed around us. It's good manners to let them go before us, so we did that. A lot. It took two rounds of buses before we finally boarded.
Remember how I said that buses don’t stop as planned? This one didn’t stop and took us way past where we were supposed to get off and through a Bedouin village. Once we were the only two people left on the bus, I got up the nerve to ask “Hey, is this the bus to Bethlehem?” Thankfully, the driver was very nice and explained to us that we needed to go to the central bus station. He drove us back so we could walk a half mile to pick up the 231 just outside Damascus Gate – the best route.
We knew we’d be late to this very important church service, because this second but left about 45 minutes before the service was to start! As we waited, I met a new friend Leo and his sweet four year old daughter Jasmine. Leo lived in the Midwest for 18 years, and had a perfect American accent. He put me at ease answering my questions about how to get around.
When we (finally) got to Bethlehem we were on the opposite side of town. He told me that we could either get a taxi or take a pleasant walk through the town with him serving as our tour guide. I politely thanked him for the offer, but told him that we really needed to get to this service fast. The four of us got off the bus and he hailed us a taxi.
Taxi's here gather at places where they expect westerners to be, and drivers compete for business by shouting things like, “Hey, pretty lady, where you from? You need Taxi?” If you ignore them, they only get louder. Sometimes they are unlicensed, and drivers expect to haggle with you over the price (they have no meter). Thankfully, Leo stepped in when four of them started shouting over each other in Arabic about who would get to drive us. He guided us to a car where a more professional driver was waiting.
Turns out, this guy was the regular driver for our Bethlehem teammates! His name is Nasser. Leo, Jasmine, Yuni and I got into his cab and he drove us to the church. Nasser said that it closes at 6 (which was in just 15 minutes) and he’d wait for us so that he could return us safely.
Taxi's here gather at places where they expect westerners to be, and drivers compete for business by shouting things like, “Hey, pretty lady, where you from? You need Taxi?” If you ignore them, they only get louder. Sometimes they are unlicensed, and drivers expect to haggle with you over the price (they have no meter). Thankfully, Leo stepped in when four of them started shouting over each other in Arabic about who would get to drive us. He guided us to a car where a more professional driver was waiting.
Turns out, this guy was the regular driver for our Bethlehem teammates! His name is Nasser. Leo, Jasmine, Yuni and I got into his cab and he drove us to the church. Nasser said that it closes at 6 (which was in just 15 minutes) and he’d wait for us so that he could return us safely.
And that’s when I walked into the wrong church. The invitation for this prayer service said Church of the Nativity/St. Katherine's. We entered the Church of the Nativity first. My clergy collar attracted open mouthed stares from laypeople, and looks of disdain from male clergy. Have I explained that there are NO female priests in the Holy Land? Well, except for 3 of us foreigners... me, Rev. Loren and the co-pastor of the Lutheran church in the Old City.
So we walk forward to find a huge group of people. I think this is the prayer service. But then I notice the top of a casket that is propped up at the front. Nope, we’re at someone’s funeral. So, we quietly backtrack and find a museum guide, who wants to take us through the church and explain everything to us. I tell him three times that we were looking for St. Katherine’s, which I thought was here. “Yes!” he says and walks us down a dark hallway into the vestibule of the place we were meant to be. We enter, ten minutes before the prayer service is over. It’s all in Latin, and I can’t understand a thing. Our seats are so far back we can’t see much either.
Nasser was waiting outside for us when we left. Although he looks very young, Nasser told me he has four children at home and can we please visit his cousins gift shop on the way home? Thankful at having made it this far, we relented. I purchased a new carved olive wood communion cup and patin, and a silver bracelet for a friend. We haggled, but I still spent more than I should have.
When we left the shop, Nasser told us that he couldn’t take us all the way back to Bethlehem, that we had to walk through checkpoint 300 and pick up another bus that would take us back to town. When he let us out, I asked him how much we owed him. He said “whatever you want to give me!” That’s when I noticed he didn’t have a meter. I paid him twice what I should have because Nasser is a dad and he was nice to us.
Going through checkpoint 300 to get back into Jerusalem is difficult enough in the daylight, but the creepiness level is turned way up at night when there is no outdoor lighting. I clutched Yumi’s arm and together we made it up the metal chute to eventually get through. I must be getting used to this insanity, because I did not have a panic attack.
So we walk forward to find a huge group of people. I think this is the prayer service. But then I notice the top of a casket that is propped up at the front. Nope, we’re at someone’s funeral. So, we quietly backtrack and find a museum guide, who wants to take us through the church and explain everything to us. I tell him three times that we were looking for St. Katherine’s, which I thought was here. “Yes!” he says and walks us down a dark hallway into the vestibule of the place we were meant to be. We enter, ten minutes before the prayer service is over. It’s all in Latin, and I can’t understand a thing. Our seats are so far back we can’t see much either.
Nasser was waiting outside for us when we left. Although he looks very young, Nasser told me he has four children at home and can we please visit his cousins gift shop on the way home? Thankful at having made it this far, we relented. I purchased a new carved olive wood communion cup and patin, and a silver bracelet for a friend. We haggled, but I still spent more than I should have.
When we left the shop, Nasser told us that he couldn’t take us all the way back to Bethlehem, that we had to walk through checkpoint 300 and pick up another bus that would take us back to town. When he let us out, I asked him how much we owed him. He said “whatever you want to give me!” That’s when I noticed he didn’t have a meter. I paid him twice what I should have because Nasser is a dad and he was nice to us.
Going through checkpoint 300 to get back into Jerusalem is difficult enough in the daylight, but the creepiness level is turned way up at night when there is no outdoor lighting. I clutched Yumi’s arm and together we made it up the metal chute to eventually get through. I must be getting used to this insanity, because I did not have a panic attack.
Instead, I was mad. Mad that nice people like Leo and Nasser suffer this indignity whenever they have a permit to leave the West Bank. Mad that what should have been a ten minute journey by car took us over an hour because of the wall of separation. Mad that my new friends who live here are treated no better than animals.
Once through the checkpoint, we waited ten minutes to board the bus. When we disembarked outside of the Damascus Gate at 7pm, we were very hungry. Our original plan was to find a nice place to eat in Bethlehem, but with knowing how difficult travel was and not wanting to miss the last bus out of town, we didn’t. Instead, we stopped at the first restaurant we saw to have a lovely protein-dense meal. Then we walked the mile back to the placement house.
What a day! Next time, I hope we will know better how to get there from here.
Once through the checkpoint, we waited ten minutes to board the bus. When we disembarked outside of the Damascus Gate at 7pm, we were very hungry. Our original plan was to find a nice place to eat in Bethlehem, but with knowing how difficult travel was and not wanting to miss the last bus out of town, we didn’t. Instead, we stopped at the first restaurant we saw to have a lovely protein-dense meal. Then we walked the mile back to the placement house.
What a day! Next time, I hope we will know better how to get there from here.
I did have to laugh out loud! Or to be more au courant lol!! But yes I hear you also about how people have to endure indignities to live there. Awful.
ReplyDeleteIt's true, it's the kind of thing that's hard to believe so I'm trying to help folks understand with my reflections.
ReplyDeleteI'll be posting soon about checkpoints. My team covers Qilandia, a big checkpoint between Jerusalem to Ramallah as the workers flow from the West Bank into Jerusalem. It's an early morning gig, from 4:15 am-8:30 am a couple of times a week, then Friday a little later for those travelling to Al-Aksa for prayer.
I also need to write about the house demolitions we've attended recently, but it's really raw and emotional stuff and I'm not sure it's safe to do so before returning home.