Last weekend I had the pleasure (and the courage!) to undertake a weekend trip to Jerusalem. I left my office in Amman (thanks to the generosity of my boss) at 2pm. The taxi to Tabarbour during Ammani rush hour was a pain, but then I had to wait another 45 minutes for the 'serveece' (shared taxi) to fill up. We were finally on the road to Jssr Almalak Alhussein (King Hussein Bridge or how it is called on the other side: Allenby Bridge). That was just the beginning... Then a first passport control on the Jordanian side, a very long and slow ride over the rather unspectacular King Hussein Bridge. Then a first, a second, a third and a fourth passport control, two luggage scanning and the according queues. Not to forget the very unfriendly “Why?!“ when I asked my passport not to be stamped.
There I was! Just a very expensive shared taxi ride away from Jerusalem. First sign to show me that we weren't in Jordan any more: “Please, put your seatbelts on!“ In Jerusalem, I walked along the dark streets, and despite my initial apprehension I felt rather safe. While I was waiting for my friends in a coffee shop, a very illuminated New Zealander interrupted me in my chilled latte sipping to talk to me about God, but Jerusalem was the last place on earth I would let myself be told that Christianity was the only way to heaven! Anyway, I was quite happy when my friends called me to let me know that they had also made it to Al-Quds, and it was time to explore the city, at least the bars and restaurants. Unluckily a thunderstorm and hail welcomed us.
On our first day we decided to wander the streets of the Old City, to see all the different quarters. It was a wonderful feeling to be walking again. Anyone who has been to Amman will have felt this need for walking, as in the Jordanian capital, it is not really a possibility: there are no pavements, the streets are broad so that you can't walk in the shadow of a building and anyway taxis are cheap. The many shops and small streets of the Old City made us feel like we were roaming around a post card. Our first thought was 'this is how I imagined the Middle East' and not the traffic, the dirt, the modern buildings we see every day! We went of course to see the wailing wall and the spirituality there was incredible.
However, unlike many visitors I did not succumb to the famous Jerusalem syndrome: no spiritual awakening. I thought that here out of all places I could have felt something, but surprisingly other places in the World have made me feel much more near to something divine. Then again a Jewish guy in our Hostel said that he had to look into the mirror every morning and tell himself that he was Jewish, as he saw so many people of different faiths, who believed so strongly and whose experiences in Jerusalem were so incredible.
On day two we undertook a trip to Bethlehem in the West Bank and against every UN security statement we went by bus, which in these times of increasing tensions are the main target of extremists. Getting there was not a problem and I was amazed by Bethlehem. It is not very big, but it has a very nice city centre and after a delicious meal at Al-Hafteem we visited the Nativity Church. It is odd to see the context of a story you know since you are little. Jesus' birth is one of the first stories I ever heard and seeing the cave where it is supposed to have taken place was just unreal. It was like stepping into my little illustrated bible.
Then we saw another attraction of Bethlehem... the Wall. Being German, Walls bring up deep feelings, and seeing that wall just made me feel like vomiting. The Israeli soldiers were probably pointing their sniper at us from the watchtower. To get back to Jerusalem, we had to go through a checkpoint, that was described to us as still human, but it was so eerie. The worst was that the Palestinians were treated much more severely than us, the guard barely looked at my passport whereas the Palestinians were checked in detail and had to leave their finger prints.
In the evening we went to a bar in the New City of Jerusalem and suddenly it felt like being in another world. A world that looked a lot like ours. This bar could have been anywhere in Europe. How could all this make sense. The horror stories you hear about how Palestinians are treated and the bit you see of it versus the normalcy of life in new Jerusalem. Where are the bad guys?
The next day, we crossed part of the country and on our bus journeys we passed by so many IDFs: they were just teenagers with guns. One of them stuck her tongue out at my friend who works at UNRWA. Wow.
The journey back was incredibly long and difficult, accompanied by a little nervous breakdown of mine because of the stubbornness of the border police, the angry Italians and the enormous group of Koreans that somehow had priority.
It felt good to be back in Jordan.
