My Israel Adventure: Day Three

Managed to get up at 6 a.m. without too much trouble, probably because it was already light and cool.

Some lovely early morning views on the walk to Notre Dame, where Fred, our Israeli-via-Edinburgh-via-US-guide, of Green Olive Tours picked us up. On the drive down through the West Bank there was much talk of Israeli-Palestine politics and interreligious dialogue. Lots of very new sights – hillsides carved into steps for farming, paved with limestone. The green faded to desert as we headed for the checkpoint back into Israeli territory at the Negev. I learnt a lot through asking stupid questions. We had to get out of the car at the checkpoint, run by a private security firm. Big security guard with big guns. I was unnerved by this, but also had the assurance of being white and British, which the Palestinians who live here don’t have.

We arrived at Asira, the village of our Bedouin guide, Khalil. Lovely welcome and beautiful children wandering around. The sweet spiced tea and biscuit on the porch was very welcome.


Then on to the traditional market in the town of Ksaifa – unlike Khalil’s home, it’s ‘official,’ a place where Beduoin were forced to settle. Saturday morning market – lots and lots of goats, some sheep, men and boys milling round, chatting to each other.


It was simultaneously alien and familiar – like most things I’ve encountered here so far. Palestinian farmland like the Yorkshire Dales (kinda), this like a Dales livestock show (kinda).


In Ksaifa we saw some adorable camels, and a mosque the community had recently raised funds to build.


Then back to Asira, for some refreshment and a brief overview of the village, the desert undulations in the distance, small boys looking after goats.


It’s like any number of rural villages in bleak parts of the British Isles. Except with tin roofs, solar panels, all sorts of ingenuity required for drainage, energy etc - and the threat of destruction – because it’s an ‘unrecognised’ village.


We were treated to a deliciously and epic lunsh – big platter of rice, vegetables and beef, very fresh pitta (Khalil said he sometimes even grinds the flour!), followed by dark, rich coffee.



Such a warm welcome; Khalil – a maths teacher, currently studying law - so proud of the food he grows, the internet he’s rigged up for the village, of his home that has belonged to his family for seven generations.


Next we went to the Lakiya women’s weaving co-operative.


Again, very familiar – spinning, dyeing, weaving – but the familiar with a twist, in that the spindle was different to any I’ve tried before, the loom held up with large tin cans. Really wonderful products available there.



This town is ‘official,’ but so run-down, or never run up in the first place. Poverty far far beyond what I’ve ever seen before. More political chat on the drive back through the West Bank– we passed a number of Israeli settlements of all shapes and sizes, from tents, hill-top forts to suburban developments. A lot to think about – and I needed the sleep when we got back at 5ish not just because I’d got up at 6, but because my mind had had so much to take in.

Later we had a meal at Ticho House, one of the oldest houses outside the Old City, with yummy and substantial Ashkenazi cuisine. Wandered round the shops that stay open late in the evening – absolutely beautiful, varied and good-value artisan ceramics on sale here. Walking down Mahane Yehuda I was reminded of Sauchiehall Street, or any other pedestrianised high street on a busy evening, but then someone ‘jokingly’ fired a gun onto the pavement, and I remembered 'this is Israel.'