Episode Uno.

My apologies for the lack of updates.  I was working on a video compilation about two weeks ago, but after my efforts being thwarted by technology, or perhaps by a defecit of skills on my part, I gave up.

Yesterday was the official one month mark in Nablus.  It's been a good experience thus far, with a smattering of the requisite frustrations.  I'll start with my first week - Enjoying the Honeymoon.

During the first week, my co-workers and I were basically just settling in.  At this point there were five of us.  Greg (from Colorado, the People-eating State) and Delphino (a small boy trapped in the body of a giant wall of a man) were the two who I met at the airport.  When we found our way to our new place, Jess, our house-mom/Assistant to the English Director/First and Second Grade Teacher Extraordinaire was there to welcome us.  We all chose rooms in the spacious 4-bedroom flat, although at that time it was uncertain who would be staying there, as the final roster of Team PBS was not yet settled.  The lower level of our place is occupied by our fearless leader, He Who Is the English Department, "Dr. Sean". 

The boys and I took a trip to Jerusalem a few days after arriving to pick up our newest teacher, who we were to meet at the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem.

In front of the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem

There were a few issues with our plan.  It was the last Friday of Ramadan, and on that day, Palestinians who might not usually be able to get into Jerusalem are permitted so that they can pray on this very special day.  Well, despite this, the checkpoint at Kalundia was shut down.  We arrived to a mass of cars, taxis, and people on foot crowded on our side of the cement blockades, and Israeli soldiers on the other.  I have a short video below that I tried to take discretely. 

We followed Sean's lead, who has found in his four years of living in the West Bank that when all else fails, repeat the word "American".   With a wave of our magic blue passports, the soldiers let us to their side of the baracades and we were free to make our way to the waiting area with the turnstiles to take part in the spectacle 50 people trying to get through 3 turnstiles, each of which actually let someone through once every 5 minutes, typically to turn them away.  Apparently, those younger than 60 would not be permitted entry, despite the rumor that the cut-off was 50, and likewise no entry after 12:00 noon, as the entry allowance was for that prayer.  After finally getting through myself, I told my co-worker, "I haven't felt so happy to be an American in a long time." 


Now through, we made our way to the Damascus Gate, where we were to find the newest member of our team in a sea of hundreds of people.  Sean and I were the only two to have seen his picture, and Delphino and Greg were instructed by Sean to "just look for a black vampire."  And so it went that we searched for Blade in the Holy Land.

After seeing this sign, I realized why people didn't understand where I wanted to go when I asked which way to the Damascus Gate, having litterally translated those words.  The litteral translation would have been "baab dimeshq" - the gate of Damascus.  In Arabic it's actually called "baab al-a'amood" - the gate of the column.

Street in front of the Damascus Gate.  Note the guy with cart impeding traffic.  There was some honking involved.

Five hours later, no vampire sightings, and I was apparently sitting in an open-air urinal.  Fortunately my sense of smell leaves something to be desired... with the exception of this case, in which I was pleased to be able to sit in the one available shady spot without being driven away by the (apparently) overwhelming odor. 

We finally gave up on Blade, assuming that he would not come out while the sun was up, and we made our way back to Nablus.  The return journey included a ride in a shared taxi bus ("service") with fewer seats than people, and I ended up riding in a hole, balled up on the floor.  I might note that it had plenty of seats, simply one less than the driver wanted to cram in, and I was not forced into the hole but chose it myself after deciding that it was the only way the bus would ever start moving.  My attempt to crawl into the hole was, in true form, less than graceful, and assumingly left the other passengers with the renewed belief that all ijanib (foreigners) are classless/tactless/inappropriate/goingstraighttohell.  If only I could assure them that I offend sensibilities equally in the West. 

By the time we had reached our destination, I had a fantastic opportunity to practice my Arabic, translating for Sean's belligerent confrontation with our taxi driver regarding the price of our transport.  It was an extra 5 shekels that day due to the high demand (it being the last Friday of Ramadan and all), which displeased Sean, to put it mildly.  Finally, after telling him that I did not intend to translate the word "theif" into Arabic, Sean threw his 20 shekels through the window of the van and walked off.  I politely handed the man my own 20 shekels, as did the others.  I wish that I had this on video.


Well, that's it for now.  Although that only gets you into the first week, I'm going to stop with that adventure and get some work done for school.  Next time on IPS - Our cast of characters expands... and then contracts; adventures in the souq; and Kelly's attempt at being a teacher.  We'll make our way to present day soon, where you'll hear about my weekend in Tel Aviv, my newfound addiction to Gossip Girl, and the difficulties and joys I've encountered in my first attempt at being an elementary school teacher.  Once we catch up, I'll try to keep this updated more regularly. 

Much love, y'all.

Kelly out.