Gas and Guns... nothing to see here

A week and a half ago I was itching to get out and roam. I suggested a hike to a friend (Shauna is from the States and is 1 of 2 in-country directors for a new community service organization in Nablus). The hike didn't work out, but we instead headed to Ramallah on Saturday night (the end of our weekend here) for an international film festival call Pangea Day (http://www.pangeaday.org). They were simulcasting a show with hosts stationed all over the world, and showed a collection of films from amateur and new filmmakers. Some of the films were pretty decent, others left much to be desired. The hosts were for the most part miserable, not the least because of their cliche script and equally unimaginative reading of said script.

Regardless, the highlight of this trip was chilling around a campfire having a few cold beers, some peanuts, and conversing without having to worry about making sure that what you say will be understood, or won't be taken in the wrong way... I've learned over the past 7 years that sarcasm does not translate well (Nick can tell you a story or two). The trip to Ramallah was a great breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively. I honestly had this sense of release in me as soon as I was outside the perimeter marked off by the Israeli military around the city. Even though you don't directly see the Israeli military on a daily basis, your subconscious knows that you don't have to go far before your freedom ceases, if only briefly, to exist. I might also contribute a bit of this feeling to the conservative stigmas that are also present here (I think twice before I throw on a pair of shorts, to go for a run).

Oh, yeah, "Gas and Guns." As I arrived at the checkpoint (you get out of your taxi , cross the checkpoint on foot, then catch another "servees" taxi on the other side) I saw gas being let off. The canister was placed so that the wind took the smoke across the pen that you enter to have your I.D. checked (it is not an exaggeration to describe it as a cattle pen where, the cattle are lined up into a single file line between metal fencing), so as to clear all the people waiting in line from the area. As I walked up towards the front of the gathered crowd I saw four Israeli soldiers with their machine guns pointed in the general direction of the crowd and beyond. Shauna, who had gone through the checkpoint minutes earlier, phoned me and suggested I try to flash them my passport. I was politely told by the soldier to "back away", apparently this is only a move for attractive young ladies from the States. I was actually glad I wasn't given any sort of preferential treatment. I would have felt pretty horrible if a bunch of people saw me just walk through. Needless to say, I hung out with the crowd for about ten minutes, exchange shakes of the head and a few smiles with those around me, and then they began slowly letting us through... after all that, "nothing to see here."