Turns out it's a short trip: 45 minutes from heaven to hell

In case you hadn't noticed already, I am varsity Middle East, peewee league Palestine. It might seem weird that someone who spent 2+ years in Jordan didn't really ever consider meandering over a couple hours to the west to check it out, but I just didn't-- between the passport concerns (Israeli stamps prevent entry into the other Holy Land, Lebanon) and the one truly traumatizing experience I had in 2004 trying to cross through Israel on my way from Egypt to Jordan, I had a bad taste in my mouth about even trying to get into Palestine.

Thus, it's fascinating for me to be here. Totally, utterly. I ask a million questions. I can't get over the most basic (to those who live here) things. Maybe things that shouldn't really be gotten over: you have to walk through a cage like a cow at the checkpoints--really? A soldier yells at you over the loudspeaker to run and then stop, for his own fun-- really?? They just build settlements on other people's land like it ain't no thing-- really??? You get the picture. The US media does a real crap job at telling us about this place, by the way. Laughable.

So as I am peewee league, I had never been to Tel Aviv before (beyond the airport) until this weekend. Jeez Louise. In the space of 45 minutes I went from good old Ramallah to a HIV-awareness art show benefit in Tel Aviv. There were gay men. Openly. And miniskirts. And people kissing. And the sort of levity that comes with freedom (no pithy one line for that). I had to sit down. It exhausted me.

It blows my mind that a fluffy art show benefit can exist 45 minutes, but a world away, from basically its opposite incarnate. If you didn't know any better, if you hadn't just come from there, you wouldn't even think of Palestine when hanging out in Tel Aviv. It's just...not on the radar.

Driving back felt like going down a funnel. The walls get higher, the roads more narrow, and you pop out into Palestine.

Tel Aviv is lovely, but it was good to get home.