Take off your shirt, it's a checkpoint

When in Palestine, do as the Israelis do. At least at checkpoints.

My girl A. and I were rolling up to a checkpoint this past weekend. A. told me to take off my sweater and just leave my tank top on, as bare shoulders were a signal we weren't terrorists or sans-papiers.

Hilarity.

In Jordan, it was literally the opposite: rolling up to checkpoints always had a hurried prelude of 'where's my scarf?? where's my jacket? hand my my sweater!' as layers were put on to cover any wanton shoulder or upper arm.

I had a few great political conversations yesterday with both my vegetable man and my kitchen supply dude. Saving them for a later post on the joys and sometime sorrows of shopping in the 'developing world'. Aka, every once in awhile a girl would kill for a Target. Also, finally went to the beautiful non-profit yoga cooperative here (yes, you read that right) and took a fantastic pilates class. I am feeling a bit...emotionally under the weather, but hoping the clouds clear soon. Miss being around old friends, is all. If you have some near you as you read this, high five em for me, ok? Ok.