Cappadocia !

travelling never goes as planned.
David and I have looked back on our journey so far and even the simplest of days have been
full of surprizes and shocks.  Why bother making a plan? It gets you on your path to find
what God has planned for you.

  We arrived in Cappadocia at 9am, I call our new, mysterious couch surfer and hear that
we cant go to the house until 7/6pm and to call him then frm the bus stop...
no problem. Problem yoke.
We arrange with a "french speaking" man to leave our bags at the bus stop and hitch hike
to another local villiage where more tourists go.
info centre tells us to go to the Goreme open air museum, so we go and on our way we meet
a Bosnian who shares with us tea and tells us a good hike to take.  We first go to the museam.
OK so Cappadocia is amazing.
The people who originally settled in the mountanous landscape were all christians, around
9th century, earlier even.  The Romans (until the Romans gave it over to the Byzantines etc)
So many churches built into the rocks, with the most intricate pictures and designs depicting
the bible.  As the biblical script was in latin, and many people were against latin at this time,
the only way to teach people the stories were through this art work.  So it had a lot of
care put into it.

  It's the afternoon, over 30 degrees, food's too expensive to buy here, we have until 6/7,
 why not start a hike?  We started walking through Red Valley, jumped into Rose Valley,
found ourselves wandering up the sun set view etc.
Stunning.
The next four days we based on such hikes around the huge land of cappadocia (which is separated
into many different towns).  Only the photos can try to explain the beauty of these days.
But four days hiking would leave us weak at the end of our days...
We couldn't have asked for better couch surfing hosts.
  Mahmut picked us up that evening and drove us to his home in a little town of cappadocia.
A more suburban town, though carrying it's fair share of history and treks.
  Mahmut lives with his mother Hatije and sister Pillin and they welcomed us warmly -
Whilst Pillin speaks good English and taught us much about turkish history and culture, their
mother could only say 'oh shit!' which she'd learnt from TV.  The mother was unwell after hurting
her back some time ago and remained on the couch mostly, though with a smile always she was
a pleasure to talk with.  We spent the evenings cooking turkish food - which I've learnt
consists of a lot of really good butter bought from the farmers.  Mayonaise and tomato sauce
is also used a lot... We ate turkish ravioli, Mousakha (with meat), and a dish with bread cut up
and mixed with chicken bits, a tomatoe cooked with butter sauce and yoguhrt.
  We had so much fun together.  We left with them drawings I've drawn, a lot of food (sweets)
we bought for them, a card, and many memories.  In turn, they gave me a book in turkish...
not sure what to do with it...a t shirt each, a knitted love heart thingy each and it
gets crazier - Their neighbour, in turn, gave us a bag of hazlenuts each.
I loved them, as they're only grown here in turkey and italy and i'd never eaten hazlenuts
not in cadbury chocolate before.
  But by a bag each I mean 10 kilos each.  A Huge shopping bag each.
  While I'll be leaving some at each couch surfers's home, and nibbling on some myself
throughout the day, i'll try and bring some home to share with my family and friends (which
is what they wanted me to do) but for three months I am not carrying this extra weight
around.

Oh but on maybe our third day of hiking through Pigeon valley we found ourselves at a very
dangerous point.  Imagine a thin fence with spheres lining the top of it.  The fence was
made of sandy rock and was about 100 metres high, dipping vertically into a deep valley.
  The trek we'd wandered into demanded you to walk over these spheres (which have a four
 metre diametre).  To climb up them was impossible.  We would be climbing and bits of the rock
would crumble in our hands and we'd slide down again.
  We thought we'd have to go allllll the way back on our path, past the viscious viscous dogs
(which I think was the real worry) and maybe find another path, some 4k behind us.
  But I saved the day!!!
I went wandering through the rose bushes leading over the mountain to the other side of the valley -
you could see that the valley was like a Y shape. It was the same old sturggle - climbing
over a steep sandy cliff, but I started climbing anyway and I got to the top !!!! From there you
could walk around and over to another path leading down another valley.  I called David up
and from there (a magnificent view of noses - all shapes and sizes!) we found our new path

and it lead to a little man's home and we chilled there and put our legs up for a while listening about his four wives and lost turtles - he gave me a turtle!

Every day was similar - a wonderful hike, coming home to a loving and beautiful family.  Only the photos can really try to share it with you, really

Summer in the City

  We had become confident travellers of the city by now, and after spending the previous
day searching for Georgia (amongst the other things I mentioned in the last post) By our 3rd
day we finally found her !!! We met at the ferry port for Princes Island and after gossiping
out the front of the ticket office for a while we decided to board a ferry.
  Rather than go to Princes Island, we got off the ferry early arriving in a homely and
rather European looking island, full of little fishermen and bicycle riding folk, with cute
little gardens around their beachy houses...
  We walked around for a while, splashed about, scavenged in the shells, and along our
path we strolled past some locals BBQing fish by the sea.  We didn't end up strolling past,
however, as they insisted we sit with them and taste their fish.  And sip their arak, and
finish off their salad, their halva, etc
  It was soooo delicious !!! Only one man spoke english, though the others used enough
expressions for some communication.
  The turkish/kurdish share the same values concerning hospitality as the arabs do, and, too,
eat pretty similar food with a pretty similar style.  though the weird thing is most turkish
 people don't relate themselves to arabs at all. They seem to look more to their differences
than similarities.  And there are many, as the turkish are obviously much more influenced by
Europe and Asia.

Our last day in istanbul
we wandered over to katakoy where its party town at night (though it was day time) with
georgia.  We got lost on our way to some tourist church and found ourselves at what seemed
like (never asked) a second hand book festival!! I bought a collection of old turkish photos
and postcards! hehe and a cheap little book (which!!! my couch surfing host just said yesterday
is his favourite book though hes never read it - he didnt even know I had it! I gave it
to him tout suite and he's so thankfukl - he then gave me some book in turkish...)
  Evening fell and the bars were all over-touristy and dear so we bought few bottles of white wine
a fresh fish/salad sandwich (they're made by the fishermans by the sea sooo cheaply- $2) and
watched the sun set at the peer, looking over the main city of istanbul's silhouette -
of sparkling mosques and churches sparkling over the beach city.
  at 10 pm david and I had to take our night bus to Cappadcia!! we were so late, talking

to an english speaker, but david ran ahead and we made it

The Colourful Constantinople

Istanbul!!
The most colourful city of Asian, Arabic and European styles, colours, language, life
Loud, as they seem to yell on top of eachother
Always smelling like fresh fish cooked on the side of the bay
And freshly baked bread
mmmmm
the food is so good.

The Blue mosque (wasnt so blue inside)

  From Marhaba to Merhaba!
I was welcomed to Istanbul - the colourful Constantinople - to discover no body spoke english.  I slept at the airport for a few hours before David came - a few people would interrupt me in Turkish.
  I soon learnt that even after saying 'sorry, I don't speak turkish' the Turkish people aren't bothered - they still continue to speak Turkish to you and suppose you know what they're on about.
  I found David easily (once his flight arrived) and we began our three bus journey through the city.  Rockily maneavering through and away into the outer suburbs.  The houses grew and shrunk - stripey purples reds and whites - and we wondered where our directions were taking us.
I found a contact to stay with on couch surfing, see, and we were following his directions to his home.

Once we found his house, in a little family orientated suburb of the Asian side (there's the asian side and the European side) we were stuck out the front for an hour discussing with the neighbours - who spoke zero english, naturally.  They explained that Emre wouldnt be home until 6 but we could stash our bags at their house.
  So we began to hike around the suburbs (I still felt a bit ill but I found some pills in my bag from a previous food poisnoning and they helped a lot).  We found a tiny little Ottoman mosque which was simply delightful - blues and white floral tiling, and became friends with some bus drivers who would keep driving past and helping us - dropping us off places they supposed we needed (I'm still not sure) or passing us onto other bus drivers with notes written in Turkish.
  Finally we got home, eager to speak to a local (Emre) in english and learn about this strange country.
Emre was really great. And answered all questions.
  Day 2
We made it to the European side of the river - caught a ferry! - and Bam.  This is where the english speakers find work.  This is where the tourists lie.  First stop - AyaSofia - Absolutely beautifull. Thanks Taita for insisting I go.  Then the blue mosque; also breath taking.  The art work and skill, one.  The history, another.  Next we wandered into a museum based on Turkish and Islamic art.
So glad we found that one because I now understand the history of the Ottoman -
The original Turkish are in fact from Asia.

The next day we wandered through the loud and claustrauphobic with details and movement everywhere
The spice market and the grand bazaar.
God, I hate shopping. Everything was so beautiful - it all glistened and seem to hover around me and fat salesmen were all so greedy and the long corridor of little trinkets and stalls never ever ended.
Finally we got out and sat in a mosque for prayer time
I forget it's name, but it was soothing.


  That night Emre took us out to Taksim for pre drinks a bar which played live turkish folk music before going to a crazy club where everyone drunk this weird concoction of 15 different alchohols probably mixed with red bull - you bought and drunk it by the bottle - called 'rapist drink'.  Don't worry mum, got home happy and somehow woke up happier.
  So the young Istanbulians get really very drunk.  Though they're conservative at the same time, often.

grand bazaar! ahh

spice market!! ahh!

That's all for now!

Better get some sleep

Bin Shoofik, ya Philistine

Ahh! My letters type from left to write on my lap top at last!
For I am in turkey, where the people stress is not arabic.
Though  first I shall some up leaving palestine;

Leaving Palestine was at first mentally difficult.
Inconcievable.
The idea of Australia had become surreal - like a life from a dream. The idea of travelling turkey/morrocco etc was even more alien,
My friends and family in Palestine have become the muscles of heart,
and my network / community widely spread across the land could keep me preoccupied
for another couple of months...which then become years and so on.

Finally finished the paintin :)

  So I began to say 'I'm leaving Palestine in two weeks!' in disbelief, and
as even with the realization, nothing changed around me, I just kept living.
  Living in Palestine the last month was so easy.
  Living was Sulaiman and Gianna involved late night discussions of spirituality
and (no way?) politics whilst nibbling on grapes and peaches, drinking wine
from bethlehem and beer from Taybeh.  Midnight feasts of egg and vegetables,
and many meetings of new people.
Rewind
Gianna I met painting, she wandered into Mayada's centre and began to help me.  We clicked instantaneously, and over the next few days we saw eachother a lot, suddenly. We would suggest excursions to each other, and always either one of us would willingly agree! She's a free spirited kind of gal, why she always comes back to Palestine... (its a very freespirited, ruleless, timeless, kind of city)
and she excites the liberty of my self.


  I introduced Gianna and Sulaiman though a tumblance of events, and all too inevitably they hooked up and Gianna moved in with us ... !!! Thus the house became a party

In between living at Sulaimans, I stayed in Nilin twice.  Living there for over a week.  Though if i had have gone there first I might have lived there months.
  The best thing I did in Palestine.  I was living with Saeed's family, who made everything
by hand.  Harvested their own wheat, olives, olive oil, and did the processes with
the most care and love it made my heart swell with peace.
  If the most rascist of soldiers tasted this food, they would become angels, I'm sure.

  The whole village shared their olive fields after so much of their land was stolen,
and conseqiently divide the olives they harvest/oil they produce from another's land.

every family spoke of hectares and hectares of stolen land,
and every boy over 14 had been to jail, pretty much (though they go fromthe age of 12,
as palestinians are classified as a "men" by this age)

The air was clean, the people were honest and kind.  I was in heaven.
Sleeping at Saeed's grandparents house was a ball. They spoke no english, and each night
was a game of charades as we played cards, gave massages, and ate feasts of
heavenly food.

Over 2 thousand years old the olive tree was that he wore crutches!

  It was so sad to leave them ... they cried :(


Last full day of Palestine was my day to Safad.
With Gila, who is seeing Sulaiman too, and Gianna...who is seeing Sulaiman too,
Gilas brother who is a commander in the army, and Sulaiman who has been in Prison
for 10 years.
Our differences and similarities inspired great conversation and the day was full of
laughing, some crying, and constant fun.  Gilas brother was really very kind, and later
spoke with me about how much
he appreciated hearing the story from our eyes, it being his first time (as an army
commander) to talk civilly with Palestinians.

I was very lucky to make such beautiful friends who drove me to Safad - they knew
how much it meant to me, and organized it the last day I had, dealing with eachothers
differnces to share it with me.
  After researching flour mills on google (my family owned a flour mill in safad)
we found just one.  It being a public jewish holiday, and Sfat (safad) a very
conservative city, we bought sharma elsewhere and had a picnic...
WE FOUND OURSELVES EXACTLY at the flourmill !!! in the middle of a forest valley!
It was stuning.


Safad itself is still catching up to me.  Very Jewish.  Though the land is so beautifull.
Breathtaking.  An ancient city situated in the green mountains, looking over
the sea of Galilee, lebanon, Syria, circled by springs and haloed with littlebirds.
  I've been so impressed with the beauty of the land where my family lived.

  The people who live there now seem happy. A little serious maybe - black and white.


Leaving Palestine soon became physically difficult.

The night coming home from Safad left me with food poisoning allllll the hours until
my flight.

By the bus ride the vomiting had ceased by i was weaving in and out of sleep with a fever.
the people, or angels, perhaps, seemed to pass me on from one bus (or cloud?) to another
and I got to Tel aviv with two hours in time for sleep.
I hadnt even realized I was going to Turkey

palestinian rhapsody

  I've been avoiding this.
I owe you an update of, what, the last month maybe?
Heres a brief one:
I've roamed the jungles and swum in the springs of the forgotten villiage Lifta,
I've guided my friend in and out of Palestinian marriage,
I've camped in the Golan;
I've skinny dipped Sea of Galilee and the Jordan river
dipping in and out of cooling springs and hot hot valleys
poisoned myself in the spring...
was convinced into Zionism...I can explain
Danced my way through Tel Aviv
became a hobo in Tel Aviv...just for the night
Forgot all about Australia
many art exhibitions...
Painted an olive tree, an aboriginal flag, a gum tree, an aboriginal boy and
a palestinian boy on the walls
got myself kicked out of the dance centre I was volunteering at...
moved into the rich side of town
became a mud woman at the dead sea with a bunch of khalilis
replaced food with arguile (just for two days)
was hosted through the houses of hebron, shaded by barb wire to reflect the rubbish
raining down from the israelis above them
hebron is separeted in two, the israelis have built themselves above the palestinians
the mosque is cut in two, also
all nighter in a Hebron walnut valley, sung arabic songs and cooked midnight dinner on the fire
spent a day at birziets circus school...though mainly meandering through the olive trees
I want to do exchange in Birziet
drinking taybeh beer, black coffee, marimiyye shai
eating fruit fruit fruit, hommos and salad
palestinian womens film festival - so inspiring! I hope its available for australia...
Did a french artist experiment - drawing a line through ramallah and following it as
accurately as possible (through houses and fields) from 12 till the sunrise
and was guided through ramallah as a blind person
went to ni'lin
saw a demonstration
was tear gassed
am on the brink of converting to islam......
i'm going to read the khoran first, dont worry,
third time to Nablus with on a socialist expedition form berlin
Tulkarm is beautifull - though theres an israeli chemical factory built inside poinsoning the
people, and when the wind blows towards the settlements beyond the wall it closes down -
because the settlers won in court - but the palestinian argument is shut down after
years and years of attempts
organic fruits and veges
Nabi Saleh - where the houses are decorated in tear gas bottles tied to rope - like tinsel
on a christmas tree
Fallen in love with the earth of palestine
life in the villiages
where wheat is made fresh into bread and eaten yummily with the finest olive oil, made from
two thousand year old olive trees
oh my
back in ramallah collecting my things and living in nilin for the olive harvest before my flight :)
xoxoxoxo
love sofia

dancing with politics

A quick fill in about my life at the centre:
We've moved up to a beautiful house around the corner, where we're setting up a proper
school for Autistic children.  We camp out here, amongst the boxes of toys, attempting
temporary desks and cupboards being held together by tissue boxes and little sticks.
  Its quite a social hangout and so it's hard to find time alone.  But I'm lovin it.
I'm growing olive trees on the walls and cooking creative dinners and just making everyone
.else's jobs easier

...

  So a gang of really cool people were having a BBQ at the centre. (They're al from
conservative muslim families, though independantly each one rebelled to explore their
own identity and have now, due to similar interests I spose, found eachother).
  But then S rung me saying that he's going to G's in Jerusalem now, because tomorow day time
the checkpoint will be too busy.  I convince my sistaz P and M to come with me and
we dissapear into the mysterious set up of israel.
  I'd already been to G's ofcoarse but for P and M it was a shocking and rather whelming
experience.  Paradise. Utopia.  A fantasy family in an ideal world where your hopes
and dreams could come true.  Though for a Palestinian, it's illegal to come here.  For
S included.
  We hung out with other couch surfers and helped prepare for the party
which would be the next day.

  The party was made up of politically active Westerners, Europeans, Palestinians, Israelis
and other friends.
  I again had to battle with my discomfort. To be drinking coctails with people
who were born on the other side of the wall. I needed to hear all of their stories and
all of their own battles in order to relax and identify with them as my equals.
  One man was an ex pilot from the air force.  Did he know about the white phospherous
poisoning the population within Gaza?  He agreed that was a problem. It was not
associated with his life, however.  The soldiers aren't aware of what they do, exactly.
  Its business.  We follow orders.  Its just a job.  We protect our country
  I think Israelis are terrorized indeed.
Though terrorized by Israel itself, progamming ideas of protection and security so that
they cannot think outside of it.  No matter how educated they are.  No matter how
human they are.
  P and I were so polite throughout the whole conversation, and a huge circle around us
listened in, thus he was so inclined to answer our questions.
  He left the party soon after our conversation

  Excited to be in Jerusalem, where our shoulders are only natural to reveal, P and I
prepare to go out and party some more after G's party.
  A lift is organized with one of G's old friends, and five of us head off to a dance club.
  We end up discussing politics in a bar
    and soon discover that one of our fellows is a Zionist.  An ex soldier, who was intent
that the army was necessary and an equal opponent to Hamas and the Palestinian people.
  His body language cut me out of the conversation rather quickly and I suspect I came on
a bit strong.  Soon enough, D, too, was eliminated fron the conversation, so musical chairs
just left P and the driver in discussion about People
  Whilst he seemed suspicious of all Palestinians, believing that the military position is
only necessary for self defence.  But he then said that working with Autistic children is a
Divine thing to do, despite it being with the Palestinians.  He was sensitive to human beings
but stubborn concerning his belief for a Jewish state, and stubborn concerning the extent
to which one must fight to reach it.  There are many Islamic countries, but where can the Jews go?
He argued.  A ridiculous argument because 1. Palestinians never wanted an islamic country, but
a country which accepts the Palestinians be them Jewish Christian Muslim or Athiest. 2. Look at Jordan,
its now 70 percent paletsinian and the true Jordanians now dislike all of them for coming into
ther country. 3. The Jews can live without a strictly Jewish only state. WHy do they need a 'right of
return' when today they live in peace in whatever country they're in?
  Naturally I couldnt find the breath to say that to his face (or back) at the time.

  But the realization that this man could feeel for Austistic children (after expressing indifference
to Palestinians) was a bit much for P and after a little tearing in the bathrooms we started dancing
with the DJ.  Soon D joined us and we waved goodbye to our driver who I no longer trusted with my life
to spend a night dancing gayfully...or so I thought
Turned out its difficult to avoid arguments in Israel when socializing with randoms.

  We bumped into my friend Jay! Woohoo! I didnt have to call him cancelling our plans for the next day.
He was with another friend, and somehow we found the topic of Palestine.  He seemed convinced that the
Palestinians are simply less developed, less civil than the Israelis.  He says there are at least 10
Palestinians in his univercity and thus they have the opportunity to find good jobs, good lives, but they
end up living in dirty streets and choosing themselves a dodgy Parliament.  He just didn't understand
the control Israel has over Palestinian's choices.  They're walled in not only geographically, but are also
dissadvantaged in the work force, restricted in the travelling world, and completely abanndonned as far
as a representative goes, or choice of a representative.  I only needed to learn my facts to back up this
argument.
  The real problem there is that many Palestinians are beginning to believe exactly this themselves. That
they're insuperior. That courage gets them nowhere save for jail, perhaps.  Resiliance has taken the form
of idleness, and hibernation as action has taken peaceful forms.
  Many have lost confidence to explore their own identity, their own power, believing that
after this prolonged period of oppression, it will only lead to further dissapointment.

 Anyway, we boogey between conversations and somehow P is targetted by another Zionest on
the dance floor.  He follows us outside, and makes the mistake of initiating a political conversation.
  The poor guy was all about Peace - a hippy who wanted to keep the conversation at ease and thus
shape his opinions around ours.  He himself had experienced violence by Palestinians, as well as
a strictly Orthodox family (in the most extreme Orthodox villiage in Israel).  Through social pressure
perhaps, we had him say that he would give all Palestinians the right of return.  That he wanted
to go to the West Bank and experience the people's conditions for himself.  But
he didnt want to hear about their problems.  He didnt want to go there to feel sorry for anyone

  There are so many similarities between the two peoples. One being that neither wants to feel sorry for
the other.  Wants to empathise with the other.  Though most commonly they dont admit this, but the opposite
simply as they know thats what civil people do.  Many israelis were simply born into the country and feel
no connection to Palestine, no responsibilty whatsoever for the conditions they face.  So why should they
hear their problems which seem to target all of the people? Everyone hates the Jews!! Is a common belief
which leads the Palestinians to their not wanting to listen to the Israeli side of the story.  Palestine
never rejected Jews, but welcomed them, and they're sick of hearing about the halocaust because if the people
were truly sorry that it happened, why would they put the Palestinians through such a similar situation?
Moreover, the Israelis seem to have everything the Palestinians want.  The ocean, water supply, freedom of
 movement to visit their families and the land of their families.  Just to name a few.


I forget but it was fun

Cutting God into Territories

  I arrive back in Ramallah where the centre within which I work is excited
with new projects, and I begin to frantically note all the different ways I can contribute.
  But I cannot focus or settle just yet.  I'm meeting a bunch of impermenant Jerusalmeites
I'd just met with G who'd agreed to do a little tour of the west bank to learn about
life.
  She who is a lawful citizen is actually unallowed to visit the West Bank, but shes found

Alaqabah mosque: holding up a peace sign

a way around it.  See, apart from the checkpoints within (which have fully calmed down
since the last intifada when there were around 400) your passports are only really checked
 on your way out of the West
Bank (to stop Palestinians leaving without permission).  On her way out, G simply leaves via
illigal Settlements where the checkpoints allow Israelis to travel through. And only
israelis to travel through
...

  The checkpoints within have soldiers, but on this occasion they didnt stop us for an ID
check.  But the checkpoints are still useful, see because If a checkpoint is built beside
 your house, you are not allowed to stand outside
your own house because its illegal to stand around the checkpoints.

  So we jump in a service taxi with Z (G's trusty cab driver who accompanies all her little
tours)

  We go to Alaqabah, a section C village in the West Bank.  The West Bank is made up of
sections A B and C and section C means that the Israeli military have full control.
Alaqabah is probably the most peaceful of all the section C villages in terms of denfense
strategies.  less than 100 metres away, rolling down a neighbouring hill,
 is a training ground for soldiers.  A fake villiage, infact, where soliders train military strategies.
  The mayor of the village  has set up a guest house to welcome all foreigners to come, learn,
and feel free to help the people out. He, too, designed the village's mosque to have two spikes
at its peak.  This symbolizes peace.  The military however, claim that it stands for
victory.  This sums up the village perfectly.
  So we stayed at the guest house, where we spent the humid evening cooking, eating,
and (for some) sleeping on the roof beneath a velvetty sky. I was secretly relieved that
the villiage was cut off from water (there were no mosquitoes!)
  The village is cut off from water, as well as the road to their crops. Their fields.
And moreover, as the road was destoryed, big cumbersome holes were left dotting the path.
  When it was destoryed, G was the one to go leaping down the path of the tracktor.
  The soldiers had no reason to give her for why they were destroying the path;
'we're following orders.  Why are you here?'

By midday, Z has picked us up again and we head forr
NAAAAAAAAABLUUUUUUUUUS

So my previous trip was a fun for the family kind of BBQ, and I'm glad I allowed a second
look.  For I had completely missed the heat of devastation which drifted through the city.
Perhaps thats why, last time, we had avoided the old city?
  We toured through the streets and learnt of where a group of Palestinians were gassed to
death (ironically), where so and so were blown up, where such activists were shot, where this family
died: leaving a blasted house without a relative to reclaim it.
  The old, peaceful, antique village - of stone alleyways, winding through creative arches,
all made of a white stone ... all silent with a (humble) sense of loss.
  We ate knafe.

  I was then made to feel the guilt of eating animal products by a french vegetarian.
  We head to Jelazon.

  Somehow at the bus stop in Ramallah we had been invited back to the manager of the
Taxi service's house for dinner.  He lives in Jelazon, a local refugee camp.
  We lost some friends along the way.  I like how this happens in life: Big groups
simplify as those who truly care to continue doing what you want to do to stay with you.
Parties become more intimate.  Feelings become more natural.  Perhaps we had grown too much
confidence by the time we entered his house?
  No.  Anyway.  We had also developped this question by now which we'd discussed with all
of our new friends here and there.
  Do you think a one state solution is possible, where both the Israeli and Palestinian
gave up on Israelm, though lived together equally in one big harmonious...Canaan.

  After a short discussion, most people agreed that if only a process would leed this into
happening, it could work.
  Me and the taxi man's wife got along really well.  She had attitude and was learning sexy
dancing via TV.  Together we tried on her dancing dresses and wiggled the makloube away...
Yes, we were made a juicy rainbow feast of makloube dips and toubleh.

  The husband felt particularly restricted living in a refugee camp.  He wanted us to understand
the struggle.  This somehow meant that we needed to understand his religion.  All discussion of politics,
of the struggle, of life, was sivved through the story of God.
  The Koran says this land will always have war.
  The Book says that the Jews must come here for the Mesiah to come.
  He played us youtube clips.  One was of a Jew who'd converted to Islam...rather innapropriat
and the next was infact of a Rabbi.
  Between the hebrew - arabic translations, they must have misunderstood the message.
  This Jewish Rabbi had both Jews and Muslims supporting him
with polar interpretations of his speach.
  I really liked that it happened, because it drew the two peoples, the two religions
 into a parellel.  They share the same God, the same faith. They've just cut him up into
territories.
  I was too excited to go home, so the party continued to S's house where we continued to discuss
the world over watermelon.