Our Palestinian tour guide, Iman, boarded the bus and off we drove. She was a lovely woman with a good heart and very knowledgeable but it did not make me more comfortable having a new person guiding us.
Our first stop was the obligatory gift shop which seemed to specialize in wooden camels in all shapes and sizes. Some of the group purchased some gifts while I just did some browsing - my specialty. While I'm perusing some jewelry in a case I'm also writing some notes in my journal and one of our group comes over and says something to the effect of "oh, still keeping that journal?"The next think I know, Iman approaches me and asks "Are you a journalist?" It wasn't said in a nasty manner but the way it was said made the hair on my neck stand up. I had this fleeting image of walking out of the gift shop and someone throwing a black sack over my head while they're pushing me into a van that then speeds away. I guess I've seen too many thrillers in the movies.
"No, I'm NOT a journalist, I'm keeping a trip journal"
"Oh, what kind of work do you do?"
Let's see, what's the right answer??
Chemist - I don't think so.
Computers - that doesn't sound right either.
"I'm retired" And that's where the discussion ended, thank goodness.
Next, Iman takes us to a restaurant that had a dining room large enough to accommodate all of us plus the 2 other busloads of tourists that arrive. The meal was very tasty, reasonably priced and the wait staff was friendly and attentive. The gift shop employees were also friendly and helpful. One other comment of note; there is a stark contrast between the West Bank and Israel in the way houses and infrastructure are maintained.
Next is a tour of the Church of the Nativity so we walk to Manger Square.
Then we enter the church through the "door of humility" (I'll say). Church of the Nativity - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Can you believe it. Then we walk into a large main entranceway.
Iman goes to check on how long the wait will be to go downstairs to the crypt and view the spot that Jesus was allegedly born. (No one is really sure of the exact spot since the church was built over 300 years after the fact but who's arguing). We line up on the right side of the nave behind other groups of tourists as a Greek Orthodox mass begins. Priests walk thru this main area with incense and chanting and then proceed to the altar. Meanwhile, the "Shush" police walk around quieting the tourists. I thought the Vatican "Shush" police were tough but these guys are armed and not in good humor. I am going to refrain from using anyone's name through the rest of this commentary "to protect the innocent". Suffice it to say that we we had been joking around with each other for a week and the laughs had been continuous but this was probably the wrong venue to fool around with protocol and decorum. Anyway, a comment was made and many people laughed, myself included. The next thing we know, the "shush police" are running towards us and a Priest is yelling "who said that?" One of our party stepped up and said that he was the cause of the disturbance. I didn't know what would happen next but it did seem to diffuse the situation - at least for a while. About 15 minutes later, there was another disturbance in a group behind ours and they escorted someone out of the church so we got away pretty lucky.
So we continued to wait on line in this crowd and a group of local women walk to the front of the line and someone in authority allows them through which didn't make anyone else waiting on line very happy but I guess that's "home field advantage".
The mass finally ends and the line people starts to move very slowly when someone in our group gets pushed by a tour guide in a group behind ours.
"Stop pushing!"
"I didn't push. DID YOU SEE ME PUSH YOU?"
Oh boy, now what. We're never leaving here alive. It's like getting on a NY subway in rush hour. (Or Tokyo I'm told)
We finally make it thru the doorway, past the altar and then down the stairs to the crypt.
Here is the location of Jesus' birth.
We take a tour of the rest of the church and then proceed to the Catholic Church which is attached to this one.
The church has been decorated for a wedding that will take place that evening.
We now have to take 2 small vans to our tour bus which can't make it down these streets (ok, here's where they throw the black sack over my head - it's only paranoia if they're not really after you).
We do make it back to our tour bus and I am relieved to see Yaron. Iman does say some beautiful words to us about everyone getting along and I sure hope those words come to pass. Our adventure continues as it takes aver 40 minutes to pass through that same checkpoint we used to enter the West Back. Cars and buses are searched, passports looked at, people in private cars get out of their vehicles and it looks like they are interrogated. It's a whole different animal getting back into Israel. There is hateful graffiti on the walls which we can look at to pass the time. There are also street kids selling trinkets from the side of the road to anyone who will roll down a window for them.
I was definitely relieved when we got to the Israeli side.
You big wuss. What were you so afraid of?
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