Some final escapades in the holy land

It sounds profound in theory. The place where it all began. The holy city during what is for Christians the most holy time of the year. But really, Easter in Jerusalem is just kinda annoying. It's super crowded and touristy and near on impossible to find what one needs during Easter - a time of quiet and a community to share it with. Every second person seems to be carrying a cross around the place like its a backpack, while every other person is wearing a blue or red or yellow cap to signify which tourist group they are apart of. But maybe I should just stop complaining and be glad that I got to spend some time in a place that I have been reading about since I was a young lad. I take comfort from the fact that Jesus' first action in Jerusalem was to trash the local temple, which, one could say, he deemed to be too touristy.

Easter Friday, between the Old City and the Mount of Olives.

Inside the Old City. Most Fridays (mosque day), soldiers do not let men under 50 visit the Dome of the Rock for prayer. So the men get as close to the walls as they can to hear the message and pray. 

Queuing for the Church of the Holy Sepulcher on Easter Friday. We did not even try to get near it.

On Easter Friday I said goodbye to Nablus and spent the last 2 weeks of my time in the land escapading around with a few friends. As you may have worked out from above, Jerusalem was the first stop. Finding accommodation at the last minute in Jerusalem during the Easter season was, obviously, extremely difficult, but we managed to find a word of mouth spot called 'Ibrahim's House' in East Jerusalem, where we were able to stay for a few nights. Ibrahim's House was well known amongst the locals, and presented itself as working for peace in Palestine/Israel and existing as a place where people from around the world could find sanctuary and in return offer a donation. The thing was, I have no clue how the place was doing anything remotely constructive in relation to peace building, and the recommended donation amount was actually higher than most (far better) hostels around Jerusalem. Nonetheless, we had a place to stay, even if we did have to walk 30 minutes straight up the Mount of Olives from the Old City to get there. 

The Dome of the Rock and the Western Wall. Two contested holy sites.

Finally managed to get into the Temple Mount. A close up shot of this impressive mosque.

Muslims pray on the Temple Mount, between the two main mosques on the site - The Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa.

This friendly family blocked their ears as they walked so they did not have to overhear Church bells ringing nearby. Sigh. 

As seems to happen with every West Bank volunteer, doing a spot of traveling around Israel at the end of your stay is an uncomfortable experience. Life just carries on as normal, seemingly oblivious to the occupation that is taking place next door. As you walk around the Old City as a tourist, it is impossible not to remember that the people you have just spent the last 3 months with are not allowed to visit this most sacred of places. Most volunteers end up just giving up their travel and returning to Nablus, or anticipating the flight home. We were, thus, not particularly upset to leave Jerusalem after Easter and head to Jericho.

Jericho is about 10 degrees warmer than Jerusalem, even though it is only 20km away. It is one of the lowest cities in the world and lies on the shoreline of the Dead Sea. We did the usual touristy activities, which mainly consist of visiting monasteries and ruins, and even managed to fit in a trek on a day that was not excruciatingly hot. Unfortunately we forgot a few essential supplies; shisha pipe, good food, fresh water. But we managed to buy bottled water at outrageously inflated prices, survive off crackers and peanut butter, and make a pipe out of the local greenery for our lemon and mint tobacco. We also managed to spend a day swimming in the Dead Sea, which was as unusual a feeling as one expects it to be, and camp a night under the stars. Unfortunately the Dead Sea has no sand, only rocks, so the sleep was not the comfiest.  

Overlooking Jericho. It is a pretty small place.

Some ants hard at work.

Local wilder-beast.

A monastery located in the middle of our trek.

Sunrise at the Dead Sea.

A view from Mazada - the last Jewish stronghold during the Roman exile.

I never made it to Galilee in the North of Israel. Toward the end of my trip I started wondering how I could miss such a biblically important spot, and started contemplating catching a bus to spend a couple of days in the region rather than heading to the Jordan Valley for the next stop on our itinerary. The Jordan Valley, as I have already stated but yet to explain fully as promised, is perhaps the site where the occupation is most debilitating to the locals. Plenty has been written by the United Nations on this particular area and the negative impact the occupation is having - one need only Google United Nations and Area C. In the end, I decided that a final visit and farewell to people in the Jordan Valley made a whole lot more biblical sense than a touristy visit to Galilee. So I have never seen the land where Jesus grew up.

The last remaining Kafia factory in Palestine. The rest all get their stuff made in China. These machines have been churning out Kafia's since the 60s.

On the 29th April I flew out of Tel Aviv. It was touch and go, being seconds away from missing the airport train after being accused of carrying a knife in my pack by security, and getting grilled with questions at customs about my Jordanian visa, which the Jordanian embassy in Ramallah had kindly decorated with the word 'Gaza' numerous times for some unknown reason, but I got through. Stories of going through security in Israel take too long to explain, so I won't even try. Suffice to say I progressed through more unscathed than expected. My time in the 'holy land' had come to an end. I was now moving toward the next destination in my journey.