Alastair Mitchell

East Jerusalem.

Today was occupied by some practise in the morning – I opted for the day of productivity in end – then a trip down to West Jerusalem to spend some time in a Wi-fi cafe. It struck me on my walk between East and West Jerusalem how instant the change is. As you cross a road, unimaginatively called ‘Road No.1’ everything seems to change. The people all speak Hebrew, the shop signs are in Hebrew and there are almost no Arabs to be seen, whereas 50 metres away the opposite is the case - there are virtually no Jews and everything is in Arabic. It is quite a contrast that in the centre of a city, an un-policed ‘border’ is so distinct yet on the outskirts of the same city, as I mentioned yesterday, the ‘border’ is undeterminable, yet militarily enforced.
As always, it was good to speak with a few people back home and on my way back I stopped off in a Thai place for a stir-fry and a beer. Both the cuisine and the beer were very welcome indeed, as a change from my recent food and drink intake. Although I sometimes wish I lived within the West Bank, as opposed to making regular forays into it, it is nice to be able to walk at a relaxed pace from the Middle East to Europe in under a minute, and in that I suspect Jerusalem may well be unique.

15th September 2007.

East Jerusalem.

I spent the morning practising for the informal concert this afternoon, then met Ata at the conservatory who took me over to Ramallah. We arrived quite early so took a wander along the main street and saw a few of the shops and restaurants – a lot of places are closed due to Ramadan at the moment so we didn’t see quite as much as normal, but it was very worthwhile nonetheless.
On the way, Ata was explaining the geography between Jerusalem and Ramallah. As far as I understood, no one is sure where the West Bank begins and ends. When leaving Jerusalem you pass Qalandiya checkpoint.

After the checkpoint there’s no constant Israeli military presence, although they do go in from time to time, but Jerusalem continues for maybe a mile or so past the checkpoint – all the residents there have Jerusalem IDs. Because of this, the Palestinian Authority have no presence here either, so it seems to be a bit of no-mans land, and an un-policed one at that. Then totally without sign of change, Ata announced that we were entering Ramallah – I asked him where exactly Ramallah begins and he reckoned that nobody knows that kind of thing either. So as far as the Israeli military is concerned, the West Bank begins at Qalandiya, for the residents with Jerusalem IDs on the West Bank side it begins at the point in the road where Ata pointed out our entry into Ramallah, and for those in Ramallah, I can’t say. All I know is I don’t think I understand what I’ve just been writing about – my consolation is that I don’t think anyone else does either. What a state of affairs!
After the concert tonight, we had a Ramadan feast in the garden of the conservatory. Although obviously I’m not fasting, I was starving anyway (as usual) so the food was very welcome. I do miss having a drink though, to me it seems such a shame to put on a spread like that with no wine or beer – maybe I’ll get used to it.
No plans for tomorrow, I might call one of the other teachers, but as it’s Ramadan there really is very little to do. I also feel like practising at the moment so maybe I’ll aim for a day of productivity. Watch this space!

East Jerusalem.

The journey to Bethlehem this morning was fine, though still no private traffic is allowed along Sultan Suleiman Street. The increased presence of the police and military continues, with me walking past three temporary roadblocks between my house and the city centre.
I taught some of the students there for the second time, and there was a mixture of results from their last lessons, but one or two very encouraging students. I enjoyed a shawarma from a really good place, and this could become somewhat of a sanctuary for me over the next month, as it feels too rude to eat or drink in public during Ramadan, so I’ll be going without while I’m in Jerusalem. Bethlehem being an outwardly Christian town is not as a whole in observance of the fast.
When I got back to the Jerusalem branch I was told that it’s now final that I will teach three days in Jerusalem and two in Bethlehem. We’ll wait to see if that is what happens, but it’s a result that I’m happy with as it makes my decision as to where I’ll live easy. If things do turn out that way, then I’ll live in Jerusalem and travel to Bethlehem just twice a week.
I went for my second haircut here so far and managed to convince Bashir to leave out the styling of the hairline and sideburns so I’m back to my usual self now.
Tomorrow there is an informal concert by and for the teachers, held in Ramallah. I had hoped to do a little piano trio by Hans Werne Henze called Adagio Adagio, as it’s very short and I think very beautiful but the music hasn’t arrived in time, so I’m resorting to the quintessential fall back of all violinists and playing a movement of solo Bach. I’m quite looking forward to it – it’s been a while since I’ve performed anything solo at all, so should be a nice change.
Being British, obviously I can’t go too long without mentioning the weather again, so here goes - the clouds that had begun to appear last week have gone again and therefore it’s back to long hot days. I have to say, I do love it like this.

East Jerusalem.

On this day in 1993, Arafat and Rabin shook hands on a ‘peace deal’. Here is how it was reported by the BBC, at the time…

“The Prime Minister of Israel, Yitzhak Rabin, and the PLO leader, Yasser Arafat, have shaken hands before cheering crowds on the White House lawn in Washington.
The handshake - the first ever in public between the two former arch enemies - marked the signing of a Declaration of Principles for peace between the Arabs and Israelis.
Under the terms of the deal, Israel has agreed to withdraw its troops from Gaza Strip and West Bank by April 1994. Elections will be held in the territories to allow the Palestinians some form of self-government. A deadline for a final settlement has been set for February 1999.”

I’m not sure how I feel about this, reading it 14 years later. Is it simply regretful that things didn’t work out, or was it wishful thinking? Either way, it didn’t happen and that is a great pity, for everyone involved.
At the end of the first day of Ramadan, the mood here is excitable. Last night I walked over to Borderline, the bar near the conservatory, and there were a lot of people hanging around. It seemed like a cross between an average Friday night in Britain (if you can imagine such a thing without alcohol) and a special occasion such as New Year. All day the Muslim population ate, drank and smoked nothing until the sun went down, and now it sounds like a cross between a party and a war. There are many loud bangs, from the firecrackers being set off now that the breaking of the fast is finished. As I walked home from the city, the Israeli Police weren’t letting any traffic except buses along Sultan Suleiman Street, which leads from the direction of the area where I live (At-Tur) into the city centre along the northern edge of the Old City. In general, there has been an increased presence of the police over the last 36 hours or so.
I’m going to Bethlehem first thing tomorrow, and hopefully the way will be clear, but the combination of Ramadan as well as the Jewish New Year means the checkpoints may well be slower than normal, I’ll need to leave plenty of time.
On the subject of time, one strange consequence of the independence of the Palestinian Authority is that the West Bank changes the clocks to wintertime a few days before Israel, so tomorrow’s journey of about five kilometres will take me across a time zone. It’s just symbolic I suppose, as it’s one of the few things that the PA actually controls.

East Jerusalem.

The lights are going up - as Ramadan nears, after dark in the Old City once traders and suppliers have finished their daily work, they stay late to hang lights from the ancient stone ceilings. Outside the Old City, along the streets a network of reds, oranges and greens look down upon the evening traffic, Regent Street style - minus the Disney.
Ramadan is an interesting time here because to all those that observe, nothing must pass the lips from sunrise to sunset, and nothing means nothing! No water, coffee, cigarettes, food – you can imagine the effect this is going to have on the already volatile sixty-a-day taxi drivers. I might try it for a day, just out of interest, but to maintain this daylight fast for the month is a challenge indeed, and I don’t envy the faithful at all. No food is one thing, but no water in this heat is downright unhealthy.
Apparently it is a great experience to be invited to a family’s breaking of the fast, as throughout the month, this ceremonious dinner is prepared carefully, and special foods are enjoyed after the long day having gone without. It would be an honour indeed to witness this, but it’s a family affair and I haven’t met any observant families yet that might offer me such an invitation. Anyway, breakfast or break fast, as always I’ll observe from whatever position I’m allowed and see what it’s all about from there.

East Jerusalem.

I went to the college early today – most people don’t turn up until late in the morning, and teaching doesn’t usually begin until about 3pm – to sort out all the violins owned by the college. I took my three hours but was well worth it as now the violin store is organised with labels describing the state of the instruments on each shelve. We also now know what we need to buy to complete the few incomplete sets, and what repairs need to be carried out on the damaged ones. I am seeing a few more of my students tomorrow so it will be good to be able to get any instruments they need quickly, and without kafuffle.
As you may have guessed from the end of the previous sentence, I stayed in last night and watched DVDs of Brass Eye and Little Britain. I had forgotten how good the first TV series of Little Britain was – it was nice to see what the folks of Britain, Britain, Britain, have been up to…

East Jerusalem.

One thing that concerned me a little before coming to Palestine was that my playing might deteriorate over the course of my time here. I’m glad that this isn’t going to happen – so far I’ve done more practice than I have for a while. Being in a college atmosphere, I’ve felt the urge to get out some of the old study books and give my playing a bit of an MOT, and it feels good to be back in that frame of mind.
Today I set out to phone each of my students to organise lessons for the coming week, and I had expected that scheduling it all would be a bit of a headache. To my surprise just about everyone could do the day and time that I wanted, and therefore everything fell into place nicely. It’s quite a contrast to the response I had become accustomed to at home, that little Jemima can’t do any day this week because she has ballet/horse-riding/art class/free-diving, etc. The students here seem to be committed and willing to learn in a really good way. To add to my delight, when I called Bethlehem to get the phone numbers of my students there, the secretary simply said, “I’ll call them.” And that was that.
I nearly broke the key to my flat this morning as I opened the door, and was lucky to get in without leaving half the key in the lock. So, after I was done at the conservatory Jihad took me to a place to get a new key cut, before dropping me back home. On our way home we passed a bar called Borderline; so called as it stands on the old pre-1967 line between Israel and Jordan, now of course well within Israeli controlled territory. Apparently it’s a good place so I might go there sometime soon, I feel like doing some socialising because so far most of my time has been spent by myself and although I quite like that, I do need a bit of human contact too.

9th September 2007.

East Jerusalem.

I considered going over to Tel Aviv for a day on the beach today, but decided instead to visit the two glaring omissions from my explorations of the Old City to date – The Temple Mount and The Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
On my way to the Old City, I finally got my local simcard, having unlocked my phone yesterday, so now I’m much more contactable and look forward to being able to answer the phone again.
I walked round to the Temple Mount on the Ramparts Walk, beginning at Jaffa Gate on the West of the city. For about £2 you can walk round one or other half of the Old City along the tops of the walls, gaining good views outward as well as a good sense of perspective inwards.

When you’re down amongst the bustle of the narrow city streets it’s difficult to judge where you are and how far you’ve walked, so it was nice to view it all from above – especially as I seemed to be the only one up there.
When I got round to the Temple Mount I reached where the map shows the one and only entrance for non-Muslims to the Temple Mount and there seemed to be some work being done as it was closed off, and therefore I couldn’t access it. There are many gates into the Temple Mount area, but only one for non-Muslims so I headed off towards the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
So far, I’ve not really picked up on the famed spiritual power of Jerusalem, for around the city the people seem to get in the way of it, but within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre the atmosphere was unavoidable. The architecture is impressive, though not any more so than some of the great European churches and cathedrals. But as soon as you enter, your senses are provoked – incense hangs in the air, candles glow out from the dimly lit space, creating an apparent aura around the gold and silver covered decorations. But more than just the physical space, the building is filled with the tension of hundreds of faithful worshipers fulfilling a life’s desire to visit the site of Golgotha, the very place where Christ was crucified. From the sombre, deeply affecting atmosphere inside that building, on leaving, your first breath of fresh air is catharsis indeed.
Unfortunately, I’m likely to find it difficult to get inside Al Aqsa Mosque – I need to ask the right people to find out whether it can be done, as it would be a fascinating place – in many ways the same as the Church just down the road, but in many more ways I suspect, very different.

East Jerusalem.

Today I taught just a few students at the conservatory here in Jerusalem. They were all fine, with some standing out as being particularly able, but the general operation in Jerusalem is definitely not as smooth running as in Bethlehem – perhaps that’s just the nature of a larger organisation.
Finding good food around East Jerusalem is an art, not a science. So far I’ve been employing basic trial and error, with the successes bringing decent results and the error producing some pretty rough meals. Today however, I got lucky. I tried a little shop that I’ve already passed a couple of times on my way home – it sells only Falafel, as far as I could make out, but it’s the best Falafel I’ve found yet. What a difference a good feed makes at the end of a day.
As my awareness of seasonal eating in Britain has only come in the past year or two, I was delighted to discover the extent to which seasonality comes into food here. At the moment the watermelons are on their last legs, the figs are great, as are the prickly pears and soon the olive season begins. Apparently, everyone in Palestine harvests their olives within a two-week period in October, so the thought of freshly picked olives and freshly pressed virgin olive oil makes part of me wish that October was already here.
When I arrived nine days ago I didn’t see a cloud for days, but over the last two or three days clouds have begun to appear increasingly regularly and with them they have brought cooler winds. It’s a very comfortable, temperate climate at the moment, but I’m aware this doesn’t last. Winter here, especially up in the hills, brings cold temperatures and rain. I feel ready though - the West coast of Scotland has prepared me well, both for the winter and for the unorganised nature of daily life here.

East Jerusalem.

I spent all of today in Bethlehem, and found it quite a charming place. If I do end up teaching more in Bethlehem than anywhere else, I’ll certainly be happy to live there. The day began with my first public bus journey in Palestine so far – Jerusalem to Bethlehem, and it was fine – except for being stopped at the checkpoint for about a quarter of an hour while all the Palestinians on board had their passports checked. I gather that a quartet of an hour is a fairly short wait compared with what can happen. Yesterday one of the piano teachers from Nazareth was coming from Ramallah to Jerusalem and all the Palestinians had to get off the bus and physically walk through the checkpoint. That is normal for this checkpoint, but they held them there for an hour and a half out in the sun, ‘herding them like sheep’. Perhaps inevitably, arguments and fighting began to break out amongst the Palestinians.
I was very impressed by the standard of the students today. Even the young ones who were applying as total beginners took to it, almost without exception, like ducks to water.
To get back from Bethlehem after the buses have stopped, which is at about 6pm, you have to get a taxi to the checkpoint, then walk through and get another from the other side to take you into Jerusalem, or wherever it is you’re going. This is unless you happen to find a taxi in Bethlehem with yellow number plates, but most have the green ones that restrict them to the West Bank only and hence the need for a change when crossing over into Israeli controlled territory. Walking through an almost deserted checkpoint after dark is a strange experience – a bit like walking round a deserted dock, or factory of some kind. There’s lots of equipment around for dealing with hoards of people and lots of cars, and it all lays dormant with just the odd soldier here and there, to whom you say ‘Tourist!’. I wonder whether any actually believe me.
In my taxi from the checkpoint into Jerusalem the driver, and elderly Arab man was pointing out the age of the buildings as we passed them; ‘These houses are 100 years old, that Church is 300 years old – Israel is only 60 years old. These houses were built for Arabs. These walls were built for Arabs’, he said. As we approached another building, he said ‘that building used to be an eye hospital for Palestinians, it was an eye hospital’. And that building, just now happens to be the ‘Mount Zion Hotel’ – talk about adding insult to injury.