With my task of visiting both sides done I went back to the Palestininian side of Hebron and tried to get a taxi to Bethlehem. No one said it was possible; however they would take me to Jerusalem, and from there I could get to Bethlehem. Whatever works.

Our journey north was much the same as my journey from Jenin to Nablus, with the exception that it was now cloudy and muddy, and our car slided around the dirt roads along Palestine's hills. Also, their roadways were far more partitioned, and not once did we manage to skirt onto the major Israeli roadways throughout the West Bank. Perhaps six times I was forced to change vehicles, often walking over massive mounds of mud, through muddy farm fields, and across the Israeli highway. The minibuses would congregate at various mudpits, and I would follow the crowd. Being able bodied this was of little concern to me, but one could imagine the frustration of being an aging Palestinian and needing to persist with this garbage. All of them chattered on their cellular phones; mobile technology has revolutionized the communication between these people, and indeed most of them always seem to be in touch with someone on their phone. Never out of reach anymore, always within a phone call to let people know where they are. It would certainly be difficult to make these people disappear.

I was eventually offered a private taxi to Bethlehem, but the price seemed high at 20 shekels. So I continued with the minibuses, through small towns among the hills, as we wound our way slowly to the outskirts of Jerusalem.













Into Arab Jerusalem we wound and finally to a massive row of concrete barriers. I was wondering how to get around this - the Israelis have partitioned Jerusalem as well, and this Arab side was blocked off from further movement which would take us to the old town and close enough to the Israeli part of Jerusalem. Of course, all I would need to do was follow the locals: in a break along the concrete barrer, we climbed over, and on the other side - yet more waiting minibuses. They took me to the old town, along with many Palestinians. All of these measures at partitioning Palestinian land from Israeli land seem half-assed; nothing stops them, it merely slows them down. But perhaps that is the point - to frustrate these people into leaving. Of course, where would they go? Yet if the Israelis wanted to, they could truly block these people from getting to and from where they wanted. But these efforts are merely designed to slow them down, and I am left wondering - what's the point?

Back in Jerusalem though, and I was seeking a way to visit Bethlehem. Taxi drivers hounded me but I wanted a minibus - and I found one. Merely ten minutes away, we made a left turn and the bus stopped beside a hill. Apparently buses weren't allowed in Bethlehem right now - they called it 'curfew'.












A taxi driver met me at the top of the hill, and offered to take me through town to the Church of the Nativity. now late afternoon, we sped through quiet city streets, him treating me to a falafel and soda, and into the empty town centre. The town has been shut down; all businesses closed, only the occasional person wandering about. Some children playing soccer in the square. But by Palestininan standards, eerily quiet. The taxi driver beckoned me out of the car as we arrived at the church, and I was met by a few souvenir sellers. Of course - nothing can stop the souvenir sellers. But them trying to make me feel guilty for not buying their junk was a particularly nasty tactic.

Into the church we went; no admission charge. A lone man led us into the main chamber, a strikingly beautiful and ancient place with high ceilings, detailed chandeliers and mosaics on the floor. In the front of the church were several people singing hymns. The church seemed older than any other I had seen, with old wooden pillars and doors which I barely fit through. The music continued in the heart of this empty city, in spite of the politics that whirled around it, those most devoted made sure that this first church of Christianity continued its ways uninterrupted.
I wandered down ancient tunnels where it was alleged that the Bible had been written; into tiny chambers, millenia old, with ancient frescos and the occasional metal artifact. There were several keepers throughout the church, who quietly minded their business as I and the taxi driver made our way through these tunnels. In the courtyard again, we found another church, a newer chamber. Newer meaning it was built in 1100 A.D., the newest thing in this site.












Despite the trouble of reaching Bethlehem - and shockingly perhaps, given its extremely close proximity to Jerusalem - it was worth the trouble. The taxi driver wanted a fair amount of money, 150 shekels, but I bargained him down to 70 - I only had 100 to begin with, and needed a bus to the airport this evening.






I had to walk a part of the way to reach Jerusalem, until a minibus offered to pick me up. Back in Jerusalem, I made a trek though the old city - saw a few sites, wandered around a bit. the Old town is not very touristic in parts; walk through the gates of Damascus and you find yourself in a crowded and bustling souq; there are residential areas in the old city, as well as touts, souvenir sellers, and some of the most sacred sites on the planet. In fact, this is true for the whole of Jerusalem.

It occured to me, wandering around East Jerusalem and West Jerusalem, the Old City and the New City, that Jerusalem exists almost as a nucleus of western civilization. Side by side all things sit, in such a tiny town, in such a timeless region: old and new, modern and ancient, sacred and profane, Jerusalem seems to have everything. Both well touristed and extremely dangerous, completely modern in parts but also completely ancient in others, an important holy city to no less than three of the world's major religions, a major centre of trade and commerce; clogged with modern highways and millenia-old cobblestone, partitioned and shattered, disputed yet unified, Jerusalem truly seems to have everything one could imagine for a city, for a society, packed into one small place. For all people, if there's one city to visit on this planet, and just hang out in, it's Jerusalem.

Through its main thoroughfares on the Israeli side it seemed to clean and ordered to be such a hotbed for all that occurs in this world. And yet, just on its outskirts, a clash of civilizations is playing out. Indeed, this is the power of Jerusalem. Another document check and hand search of my bags later, I was back in its shiny multi-level bus station.

The Startling Conclusion. (Warning! Opinions Expressed!)



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