"May the Lord hear thee in the day of tribulation: may the name of the God of Jacob protect thee. May he send thee help from the sanctuary: and defend thee out of Zion."
Psalm 19, 2-3
Breakfast was at 8 am. Most of the people from our group had scheduled rides to the airport for flights home, though some of us were continuing on with our own travel plans. While at the Dana Nature Reserve several days earlier, I was introduced to a young Australian woman who was also planning a crossing into Israel from Amman, so we had arranged to make the trip together. Our travel company had made some phone calls and scheduled a driver to pick us up for an early departure.
I was quite anxious about the crossing into Israel for a number of reasons. I had done considerable research about travel to and from Jordan and Israel, as well as between Israel and other neighbouring countries and learned some interesting facts. For example, if you have an Israeli stamp in your passport, or are suspected of having visited Israel at some point, you will be denied entry into Syria and a number of other nations in the Middle East. One could travel from Syria to Jordan, then enter Israel, though you may be questioned thoroughly at the boarder. Many travelers recommend asking the Israeli boarder guards to not stamp your passport, so that you can gain entry to other surrounding countries in the future.
I was using the Allenby (King Hussein) Bridge crossing, which is the most direct route but also the most potentially challenging. Travel to the boarder should be done in the morning as it closes at 2pm. In addition, it closes on the Sabbath and other Jewish or Islamic religious holidays, and can also close suddenly if there are security concerns. Both Israel and Jordan recognize it as an official checkpoint, with restrictions. Palestinians in the occupied territories must use the bridge if traveling abroad, to access the International Airport in Amman, as they are usually denied permits to use the Tel Aviv airport. Travelers leaving and returning to Jordan via the bridge must return within a certain time and show an exit visa, but do not require an entry visa, and Israeli citizens are not permitted to use the terminal at all. (1), (2), (3), (4)
In addition to the complicated boarder restrictions, the stories of strict security, and the travel warnings and alerts, there was some conflicting advice about what to do or say when at the boarder. Robbie was concerned and somewhat upset that I hadn't notified him of my intention to cross into Israel when we first arrived in Jordan. It had something to do with the types of Visas he acquired for us and he stated some apprehension about my chances of entry, along with the direction to not let on that I had been traveling with a group but claim that I was on my own. Prior to my trip, another contact strongly suggested that I not mention my plans to visit Bethlehem in the West Bank. If asked, I could not lie about either so I thought I would just wait and see what would happen. I also did much praying during the car ride to the boarder.
We were dropped at the Jordanian terminal after a short trip from the hotel. We had to pass though three teller windows with a series of passport checks, some paperwork, and an exit tax. We reclaimed our passports and then waited in a small and dimly lit room with a couple other people. Karina, the person I was now traveling with, had made friends with a young Japanese man who apparently was slowly making his way around the world. He had come through Russia and Europe and was now heading to Jerusalem.
After about fifteen minutes a shuttle bus arrived which once boarded, brought us through no-man's land between the Jordanian and Israeli boarders. We stopped twice at checkpoints, one Jordanian, the other Israeli, in order to have the bus inspected. Upon arrival at the Israeli terminal our luggage was tagged and sent off in one direction while we were ushered into the building after being asked some questions. I was getting more apprehensive at this point being separated from essentially most of the belongings I had brought with me, but assumed that the boarder guards knew what they were doing and trusted that my bag would turn up again at some point.
We passed through metal detectors and a machine that blasts you with compressed air (which to this day I still have no idea what it was.) I still had a small shoulder bag with me along with a hooded sweater that was wrapped around my waist. I was directed to remove these and send them through an x-ray machine along with my bag.
The next station was customs, where a young attractive woman, probably in her early twenties, checked my passport and asked me a series of questions about my visit to Israel and whether I knew anyone there (I did not). I can't remember if discussion about my plans to visit the West Bank came up, but she did ask about who I was traveling with and I gave her full details which luckily didn't seem to concern her too much. I seem to remember some hesitation from her, and slight awkwardness on my part, but I was eventually let through.
I thought that I was now cleared and in Israel. I met up with Karina and we found that we now needed to join another line for customs. An agent checked both our passports. They had some questions for Karina about her luggage, and pulled her from the line for further inquiry while I was directed to sit down and wait.
While waiting I noticed that there was a separate line for those whom I assumed were Palestinian citizens. The line was long and was moving very slowly, which apparently seemed normal and no one was complaining about. I also noticed that I was probably one of the only Westerners sitting in the waiting area.
Soon Karina appeared on the other side of the security railing, having been cleared to enter Israel. She kept gesturing for me, indicating that I do something besides sit there. After about an 18 minute wait that seemed much longer, I walked up to the railing to speak with her. She suggested I find someone to inquire with, which I did. The customs official took my passport to the security booth and after a short discussion with the agent there, directed me to the front of the line and let me through the gate to claim my backpack. If only I had know it would be that easy.
Once on the other side we only had to locate and pay for a shared taxi shuttle (Sherut) to Jerusalem, which we did, but that was before the security alarm sounded. As soon as the alarm sounded, taxi drivers, including ours, were rushing to herd their passengers into their vehicles. Everyone seemed to be fleeing from the terminal as quickly as possible. I hesitated long enough while climbing into the taxi that customs agents were soon directing us and everyone within the area back into the building.
Once inside the doors were closed and we all stood there wondering what was happening. After a couple minutes, the doors were opened again and we were allowed outside, where our taxi driver was still waiting for us.
I slept for most of the drive into Jerusalem, waking once we were just outside the Damascus Gate of the old city. Upon exiting the taxi, I suddenly realized that I didn't have my hooded sweater with me, quickly jumping back into the van to look for it. It was then that it dawned on me that I had left it at one of the security checkpoints. Then a worse thought came to mind, linking my unclaimed and forlorn sweater left at the x-ray machine as the cause for the security alarm. The sinking feeling this caused was somewhat softened by the thought that at least one of the customs officers (possibly one of the attractive female agents?) would get a new piece of apparel.
We said our goodbyes to our Japanese friend and wished him well. It was overcast, cold, and windy as we crossed the busy street and made directly for Damascus Gate. Once inside you are surrounded by walls and a ceiling that follow a twisting narrow path as it makes its way into a crowded open market. The path soon splits and Karina and I went separate directions as our accommodations were in two different areas of the city.
I was staying at the Lutheran Guest House (I am Catholic,) which I located after some difficulty. This involved walking too far and then receiving help from a sympathetic woman who pointed me back in the right direction. I rang a buzzer to be let through a large heavy metal door. It was a very nice guest house, quiet, with small clean rooms and well designed and furnished common spaces.
We had arranged to meet soon, so I left shortly to navigate my way back through the crowded streets. By the time I met up with Karina, she had evidently familiarized herself with the city, well enough at least to by able to direct me back to where I was staying, locate the Church of the Holy Sepulcher for me, and find a popular felafel place where we would buy lunch.
After lunch we located the convent where I would be staying for the next four days. I hadn't booked any nights past that as I wasn't sure where I would be traveling to once in Israel. It wasn't far from Lutheran House, and was relatively easy to locate in the Palestinian Quarter. We then followed the narrow streets down to the Jewish Wailing Wall, passing through armed security and running our bags through another metal detector. I wasn't aware of the etiquette for entering the Jewish holy site, and Karina had left me to find the entrance that was reserved for women. I watched other worshipers and tourists, then located a cardboard yarmulke (small head cap) for visitors from a bin near the entrance.
Though hesitant about where I was allowed to go, I slowly made my way to the wall for a brief prayer and then turned left into a covered area. The wall continued through this covered area, which housed some furniture to store religious books and chairs for people reading. There was also a small glass cover on the floor that allowed one to see how far down the wall originally went.
The Wailing Wall is a remnant of the western portion of the wall that surrounded the Jewish Temple site. The original Temple was destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 BC. The stones visible today date from the 7th century, though the portion of the wall that runs underground dates from the Second Temple period (19 BC.) The Romans destroyed the temple again in 70 AD, after the Jewish uprising. (5) It remains a holy site for the Jewish people who lament its destruction.
As it was now close to evening, we both returned to our guest houses. Later I ventured out for dinner, which ended up being felafel again, at a place just outside Damascus Gate. I sat outside on a bench to eat, joined soon by two local kids who sat next to me. Returning to the old city, I found a street vendor serving fresh squeezed orange juice, which was very good but a bit pricey at about $5 USD. I think my felafel cost much less than that.
Back at the Lutheran Guest house, I sat in the common room and read more from my travel guide on Israel and the Palestinian territories. I also thought of an earlier part of the day, when I had watched a group of young Palestinian kids attempting to fly a kite from the rooftops. This proved difficult as the roofs are not completely level and there isn't a whole lot of room to run. But they seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, shouting "Yalla, Yalla" ("Hurry", "Hurry.")
"How I rejoiced when they said to me,
'Let us go to the house of Yahweh!'
And now our feet are standing
in your gateways, Jerusalem."
- Psalm 122
Western Wall, covered area, Jerusalem.
Western Wall, Jerusalem
Palestinian Market, Jerusalem
