Archive for the ‘Israel’ Category

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posted on November 23rd, 2010

I’ve been following, with great interest, the debate going on in the U.S. about TSA airport screenings. I’ve read a number of opinions suggesting prescriptions for maintaining security and restoring a bit of privacy to the travel process. Some articles have discussed a move towards the sort of screening that Israel does. So, having gone through Israeli airport security, I thought I’d write again about the experience for you here.

But first, let me attempt to put a frame around this debate.

Israel is, in many ways, the model for safe flying. With the story I’ll recount below, you’ll understand why a person would feel safe boarding an Israeli airplane. It’s important to remember that airport security is a sliding scale. The discussion isn’t about whether we want to stay safe when we travel. It’s about HOW safe we want to be and how much we’re willing to give up in order to achieve that security. On one extreme, we could abolish screenings all together. On the other end, we could mandate that travelers fly in hospital gowns without carry-ons. Since we’re unlikely to do either, today’s discussion is about where on the scale we, as a nation, want to land.

For years, airport screenings have been moving in the direction of greater security (though some would dispute that claim) and less privacy. Put another way, we’ve been slowly moving towards the Israeli model.

The El Al check-in counters are in a corner of Heathrow, giving security wide berth to operate without the hassle of random passersby. When I approached the area this June, for my London to Tel Aviv flight, a security agent met me several yards before I even reached the check-in area. He was Israeli, not British.

He asked to see my passport. I handed it over to him, and he studied it, taking his time over visas from Yemen, Syria, Lebanon, the UAE, etc. It didn’t take him long to escort me to the additional screening line. Now, to remind you, this wasn’t at the standard security checkpoint, this was prior to checking in.

I waited in a line filled with other foreigners, including one visibly annoyed Indian. Others, like the Hasidic Jews, proceeded through check-in normally.

After waiting for 15 minutes, another security agent asked me a couple of questions and quickly escorted me to a back room for further screening. I waited for an hour as my bags were scanned and searched in another room. I was checking my backpack, filled with clothes and book, and carrying on a small duffel with all my electronics.

Eventually, one of the agents appeared (they were all exceedingly professional) and informed me that I wouldn’t be allowed to fly with any carry-on baggage. That’s ridiculous, I protested. The only items that can fly under a plane but not in the passenger cabin are things like knives and liquids. I asked, rhetorically, if they had found any of those in my carry-on.

Once I realized there was no arguing, I explained to the agent that I wasn’t prepared to check all of my electronics (computer, cameras, etc.) and risk them disappearing. I said that I wanted to be able to carry my computer, book, and iPod onboard with me. The rest they could check. Nope, she said. I could have the book and the iPod, but not the computer.

At this point, for fear of missing my flight, I accepted El Al’s terms and sprinted for the gate. I made it through British security in a snap and proceeded to the gate at the end of the terminal. Once there, a security agent again pulled me aside and told me that my backpack wouldn’t be allowed to fly at all. It hadn’t passed explosives screening.

I couldn’t believe it. I had been forced to check my carry-on, and the bag I had intended to check couldn’t fly at all. The bag would be sent to a flight simulator overnight, the agent explained, and would be shipped on to Tel Aviv the following day.

The agent then told me I’d been selected for addition screening. He took me into a private room and ordered me to drop my pants. Determined to get on the damn plane, I did as I was told. I was wanded from head to toe. The man even made sure to pat the elastic of my underwear. My book, iPod, shoes, and belt were all tested for explosives before I was allowed to board.

The really interesting part of the journey, though, came in Tel Aviv—after the flight—where I was put through an intense interview in a private office off the immigration hall. This, I would soon understand, was the part where trained agents are looking for behavioral signs that could indicate a person is lying or scared.

I turned out to be an interview subject worthy of the training manual. I was sweating, fidgeting, turning uncomfortably in my seat, and stumbling over my words. Part of the reason for this was typical American self-righteousness. They’re questioning ME? Part of it was that my computer had been sitting by the baggage carousel for over an hour, and I began to worry that I’d never see it again.

The man and woman in the office began quizzing me. Why did I live in Egypt? Did I speak Arabic? Did I know anyone in Israel? What was my email address? Why had I visited so many Arab countries, while this was only my second visit to Israel?

And then the one that made me mad: Why had I covered the Israel-Hamas war from Gaza? Did I not want to write about what the Israelis were going through? Of course, this called my journalistic integrity into question, and I had to choke back fightin’ words, as they say, especially after one of the agents warned me that lying was an offense worthy of imprisonment.

That’s where the story ends. I got into Israel and had a wonderful hike through the country. My computer bag was waiting for me on the other side of immigration, and my backpack (apparently cleared of explosives) was delivered to me in Tel Aviv the following day.

The two most effective aspects of the security screening were the initial profiling and the post-flight behavioral interview. The profiling at the front end of the flight was not race-based. I’m a white American male. No flags there. I was targeted because of my colorful passport. After the flight, agents zeroed in on my discomfort and nervousness, singling me out as someone who might have something to hide (albeit incorrectly).

This blog is not an endorsement or a condemnation of the Israeli method. It’s just meant to shine a light on a system that is more effective than ours with regard to security, though it comes at the cost of a more invasive screening process. I hope it will add some perspective to our national conversation as we discuss where on the security-privacy scale we want our air travel to fall.

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel
posted on July 8th, 2010

Please see my latest article from the road, up on the GlobalPost website now!

Boycotting Israel

By Theodore May

http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/israel-and-palestine/100707/boycotting-israel

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel
posted on July 5th, 2010

This is Yasser Arafat’s tomb in Ramallah. Arafat wanted to be buried in Jerusalem, but the Israelis refused. Most Palestinians view this tomb as temporary, until their old leader’s body can be moved to Jerusalem.

On my last day in the West Bank, I visited the northern city of Nablus. After wandering the city’s old market, I hired a taxi to take me up a nearby mountain to see the city from above. Nablus is a fascinating town that saw some of the fiercest resistance to the Israeli occupation during the last intifada. Even today, an Israeli military checkpoint lies just south of the city. Cars passing through are subject to searches and document checks.

This is a segment of Israel’s famous security wall that separates the Jewish state from the West Bank. I snapped this photo near the Qalandia checkpoint, which sits on the main thoroughfare between the West Bank and Jerusalem. The man painted on the wall is Yasser Arafat.

Two days ago, I stood on a hill overlooking the town of Nablus, in the West Bank, thinking with a groan about the long road to Cairo that lay ahead. It took me just over 24 hours, but I’ve finally arrived in the wonderful, dusty Egyptian capital that I used to call home. To get here, I navigated Israeli West Bank security checkpoints; a bus to the Israeli Red Sea town of Eilat that felt like a flight to Cancun, with dozens of 20-somethings drinking and partying the night away on our overnight ride; 5 hours at a rest stop in Eilat waiting for the Egyptian consulate to open; and a 7 hour drive across the Sinai Peninsula and up the Nile Delta.

I’ll be in Cairo for as short a time as possible. It’s nearly impossible to get into Gaza from Israel unless you become a credentialed journalist there, a process that can take months. So I’m in Cairo for the week getting my paperwork sorted out. Then I’ll head up to the border and try my luck there!

In the meantime, with its 20+ million people, Cairo will provide a great setting for a week of blogs.

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel
posted on June 30th, 2010

Today, I headed south from Tel Aviv, following the city’s charming beaches, boardwalks, and parks until I found myself in the old city of Jaffa.

Most Middle Eastern cities grow up around their ancient predecessors. In Jerusalem and Damascus, walled off bastions of history keep out the modern sprawl that has developed around them. In Cairo, the new seems to have infiltrated the old when you visit the ancient market, with much more of the city having expanded towards the Nile, since the mighty river no longer floods.

Tel Aviv, though, grew up largely to the north of its ancient counterpart. So it took me about 45 minutes to hike down the beach from the center of the modern city to the dusty alleys of old Jaffa.

When I got to Jaffa, I remembered a friend’s restaurant advice, so I figured I’d see if his recommendation was anywhere nearby. When I approached a store owner and asked for Dr. Shakshouka, the man pointed down a small alley and told me it was just around the corner.

Sure enough, I walked 20 yards down the alley, rounded the corner, and found myself face to face with the place my pal Dave had sworn by.

Dr. Shakshouka is a semi open-air kind of place, with large awnings covering the tables from the Middle Eastern summer heat. And I was also glad to see that this was an in-and-out sort of place, perfect for a man on the move!

After a brief glance at the menu, I ordered shakshouka, the restaurant’s namesake and a favorite Middle Eastern dish of mine. The options were shakshouka plain, shakshouka with chicken, shakshouka, with onion… and 4 or 5 others. I went with the onion (which I thought was a shakshouka staple anyways).

The waitress asked me if I wanted a salad. I said sure. She also recommended lemonade. Fine, I said, abandoning my original thought of tea. It was a go-with-the-flow sort of moment.

Three minutes later, my meal came out, and out, and out. Platters upon platters. My half dozen side “salad” dishes consisted of beans and couscous, a coleslaw type dish, a pepper mash, and a few others.

And then there was the shakshouka, so fresh they hadn’t even bothered to take it out of the frying skillet when they served it to me.

Shakshouka is, essentially, a couple of fried eggs cooked in tomatoes, onions, and peppers. Bread is a necessary side to soak up the yolk and all the tomato sauce. When my shakshouka arrived at the table, it was still bubbling from the heat of the stove.

It didn’t take me long to finish the meal. I ate as I intended to walk: with purpose! Even though I had a book by my side while I ate, I never cracked it because it was far too much fun watching the shakshouka chef field orders and whip up his signature egg dish with great gusto and efficiency.

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel, Matters of (In)Digestion
posted on June 29th, 2010

As my Israel leg comes to a close, I figured I’d take the opportunity to issue a State of the Trek address.

Wrapping up in Israel will conclude my fourth country of the walk (having already covered Turkey, Syria, and Lebanon). Israel is the first country, though, that I’ll be leaving for good, since the second half of the trek will include return visits to the 3 others I’ve already been to.

These next couple of weeks mark something of a turning point in the journey. Hostels are going to be out. Bars, too. I’m going to be moving several rungs down on the development ladder, diving headfirst into the heart of the third world.

After making it close to the Gaza border, I’ll bus over to Ramallah and spend this weekend there. I’ve recently reconnected with an old friend from college who lives there, so I figured I’d visit there and bring you the sights and sounds of the West Bank for a couple of days.

Then it’s off to Cairo by bus. I’ll be trying to get into Gaza from the Egyptian side, so I’ll take a week in Cairo to sort out my paperwork. Never fear, though! There is lots in Cairo to keep the blog humming along.

As soon as I get everything sorted out for Gaza, I’ll bus up from Cairo to the border and try to get in… which is always more difficult than it should be (more on that next week). Gaza is so small that it will take me only two days to walk it. As a result, I plan to take my time and stay awhile because there will be lots to report.

Once I wrap up in Gaza, I’ll cross back into Egypt and begin the long slog across the Sinai Peninsula, through the Nile Delta, and down to Cairo.

Lastly, enjoy the photos above.

Captions

Photo 1: I took this one looking back at Haifa as I headed south away from it. I know I’ve posted several beach shots over the course of the trek, but getting away from the crowds and strolling empty beaches never gets old to me.

Photo 2: I posted a couple days ago about a manhunt I witnessed in which several kibbutz members were chasing an alleged Arab Israeli fish thief through the coastal Arab town of Jisr al Zarqa. After witnessing the chase, I drank tea on the beach with a fisherman and an Egyptian wedding band drummer. As we sat there, we watched men and boys parade their horses along the seashore. It was an amazing spectacle because these weren’t the well-mannered horses we’re used to seeing back west. These were untamed and fierce.

Photo 3: It’s not everyday that you stroll the beach and run into an astounding slice of the ancient world. I was walking down the beach a couple days ago, and it was getting late. It was around 7:30, and the sun was minutes away from hitting the horizon. Unexpectedly, this Roman aqueduct appeared to me on the beach. It was, I soon found out, just outside the the ancient Roman city of Caesarea.

Photo 4: That’s me a couple days ago, on the first day that I decided to bust out my goofy sun hat. I prefer not wearing hats that cut down on my peripheral vision, but the intensity of the summer sun is starting to bake my face.

Oh, and if you’re tired of beach/sea photos, you have only several more weeks of suffering until I head inland!

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel
posted on June 29th, 2010

Please see my latest article from the road, up on the GlobalPost website now!

Material Girl in a Kabbalah World

By Theodore May

http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/israel-and-palestine/100625/material-girl-kabbalah-world

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel
posted on June 28th, 2010

I’ve only got a couple of walking days left in Israel! I’ve made it to Tel Aviv, which leaves me not too far from the Gaza border.

In the meantime, my sleeping accommodations have made evenings in Israel, in a lot of ways, the highlight of my two weeks here.

Unlike in Syria or south Lebanon, Israel is developed enough that I haven’t spent evenings feeling like I’m in the middle of nowhere. As a result, on many nights, I’ve found hostels along my route and stayed in their dorm rooms.

The cast of characters that the dorms have introduced me to has offered fascinating insight into the sort of people that visit this country.

In Akko, I stayed in a small Arab-run hostel in the city’s old quarter. My room was furnished with 3 bunk beds. Soon after I lay down for the evening, a Brazilian family walked into the room. The husband, wife, and young daughter said little as they got ready for bed, despite my several attempts to kick start a conversation.

After a while, I gave up on chatting and went to sleep, my alarm set for 7:30 so that I could get on the road to Haifa.

Unfortunately, the family had wakeup plans of its own. At 6 a.m. I snapped awake to the sound of loud chanting. I quietly put my glasses on to see the father standing over his wife and daughter, both of whom were still in bed, praying loudly. He would pray over one for a bit and then turn his attention to the other. He held his hands out over the recipient of his prayers and loudly chanted in Portuguese. I didn’t know whether to be intrigued or annoyed.

The chanting lasted for an hour, at which point the father announced that it was time to leave. The family was out the door 5 minutes later!

After Akko, I walked to Haifa and checked into a dorm room at a hostel in the city’s port area. As I’ve already mentioned in a previous blog post, I shared the room on my first night there with 10 archaeology students who were on a summer dig at Megiddo, site of Biblical Armageddon.

These kids were definitely embracing the work hard/play hard ethos of summer in Israel. In between chats about their dig or about my project, they would slam back drinks or discuss rumors that one bar might have an all-you-can-drink offering. Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep through their 5 a.m. return from the bars.

Subsequent nights in Haifa gave way to a slew of fascinating travelers: the teacher from a Jewish high school in San Diego; the Aussies who had come to Israel to learn about their grandmother, an Auschwitz survivor; the British student on a gap year before university, who had managed to backpack around Europe and the Middle East for months with a backpack one-tenth the size of mine; the Finnish bikers (who I blogged about a few days ago), who were biking from Finland to Jerusalem on a religious mission. The list goes on.

Some of the most fascinating people I met were American and European Jews who had come to Israel to explore the country. With all the passport-carrying Israelis I’ve met, I’d say that no more than 2 or 3 ever asked me if I was Jewish. It wasn’t important to them. By contrast, nearly every Jewish American and European traveler I met asked me about my faith.

Through their questioning, I’ve come to understand their excitement for this place and their connection to the land. They’re thrilled to be here, fascinated by making connections with people through a common religion. Nobody has held that I’m not Jewish against me, but it’s been striking how quickly travelers get to that question when I chat with them.

Eager to get away from the hostel setting, a friend recently introduced me to CouchSurfing, a website that connects travelers to hosts with couches to spare. One afternoon, I went on the site and sent out several requests. It didn’t take long for me to receive a reply from a man named Lior, who works in Israel’s booming tech industry. He and his wife, Naama, he said, would be happy to offer me their spare bedroom.

I met up with the couple as they made their way back from a vegan cooking party. Even as devout carnivore, I could tell that I’d like their offbeat style.

By the time we got to their apartment, it was around 11 p.m. Despite the hour, though, Lior handed me a plate and a handful of vegan leftovers he’d saved for me.

The CouchSurfing website is heavy on the sort of connecting-people-in-a-meaningful-way philosophy that can make a person cringe. A few minutes into my conversation with Lior, though, I began to understand what the CouchSurfing service is all about. We chatted for hours about his background, his work, and his love of rafting. The conversation gave me serious insight into the country.

After some time, Lior turned the tables, peppering me with questions about Syria and Lebanon. Our conversation ended with a run through some of the biggest obstacles to peace in the region.

The next morning, I left when Lior and Naama had to head to work, thrilled at having discovered a 21st century tool for connecting with people on my ancient route.

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel
posted on June 27th, 2010

It’s difficult coming up with new superlatives every day to describe the beauty of my walk. The last two day’s stretch between Atlit and Netanya, though, was pretty special.

I have walked dozens of miles of empty beaches, wandered sand dunes, traversed dry coral reef heads, passed Roman aqueducts, navigated cliff edges, and waded through streams. It’s made me feel like a real adventurer. It’s also been fun to wander through the more populated beaches and see how the Israeli crowds do their weekend beach time (lots of cookouts).

During yesterday’s walk, I passed the Arab village of Jisr al Zarqa. It’s the only coastal Arab village I’ve passed so far. Set back about half a kilometer from the sea, the town looks very Arab, with densely packed buildings and numerous minarets.

As I approached the village on the beach, I found myself confronted by a stream, roughly 15 feet wide and 3 feet deep, running into the sea. To this point, I had been walking across abandoned beaches. Because the town was set back from the sea, the other side of the river was dotted just with a few rundown fishing huts.

I was about to cross the stream when I noticed a car with a siren on top, parked 20 meters up river. It was some sort of environmental police patrol. I went up to the driver, who was standing beside the vehicle, and asked where the shallowest point of the river was.

“I would not cross the river,” he said. “That’s an Arab village on the other side. Very dangerous.”

I suppressed a smile and told him that I’d take my chances. He walked me down the river and showed me the shallowest crossing point.

That’s when the action started.

As I began taking off my socks and shoes, a police car, lights on, screamed down a dirt road and came to a sudden halt right across the stream from me. One policeman jumped out of the car and began running towards the village. Another cop followed moments after.

I hurried to get my shoes off and navigate the river so that I could check out the action. Just as I got into the middle of the stream, a band of 4 Israeli civilians came sprinting up behind me. Three of them were wielding heavy clubs, and a fourth held a leash attached to a muzzled German shepherd. They came across as members of an old-fashioned manhunt.

They didn’t bother to take off their shoes or test water depths. They charged in. And they looked angry.

Just as they cleared the stream, though, the two policemen reappeared, with a handcuffed Palestinian walking in between them. The police stuffed the fugitive into the car, just in time for the four Israelis to appear and give the guy a piece of their minds.

As the scene continued around the police car, the Israelis got into a conversation with the policemen and a number of Palestinians from the village came to check out the action. I, meanwhile, took my sweet time cleaning off my feet and putting my shoes back on.

When the cop car sped away, I began asking around to get some answers about the chase. Apparently, the young Palestinian guy had stolen a handful of fish from a neighboring kibbutz. The kibbutz people had called the police but also set out on their own search party.

By the looks of things, the Palestinian was lucky that the cops caught him instead of the four kibbutz guys.

I told this story today to an Israeli guy, named Sharon, on the beach. He told me that such theft is common. When he lived on a kibbutz, he said, the nearby Palestinians would wait until the cows gave birth and conduct nighttime raids to steal the calves. When the members of the kibbutz caught on, he said, they hid one night soon after the calves were born and ambushed a would-be robber.

They beat the guy up, he told me, and then the guy showed up at the kibbutz the next day to do some business, as if nothing had happened. It’s just “part of life,” Sharon said.

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel
posted on June 25th, 2010

I felt like I was in a bubble today. But that’s the way it goes on the trail.

I left Haifa this morning and enjoyed one of the most beautiful walks of my trek so far, though it didn’t start out that way. For the hundredth time, I’ll note how little I enjoy walking into and out of big cities. They’re traffic clogged and usually industrial.

I’ve also said before that all Israeli roads seem to lead away from the sea. Each road I picked early on quickly curled away from the coast, and every time I tried to wind back to the beach, I found hospitals, factories, and army installations blocking my way.

Eventually, though, I cleared Haifa and walked for hours through scrubby sand dunes and deserted beaches, being careful only to avoid the hundreds of jellyfish that had washed up on shore. There’s something about walking on quiet beaches that makes the pain a lot more bearable.

After a good afternoon march, I made it to the small town of Atlit. I’ll strike out tomorrow for Netanya, as part of a 3 days walk between Haifa and Tel Aviv.

As I mentioned, though, I felt like I was in a bubble today.

That’s because, while I traipsing down lonely beaches, Israel today marked the 4th anniversary of Gilad Shalit’s capture by Hamas.

You’ve probably heard of Shalit, but unless you’ve been to Israel, you haven’t eaten, breathed, and slept Shalit.

Gilad Shalit was a young corporal in the Israeli military when a handful of Hamas militants seized him and took him hostage (or prisoner, depending on your viewpoint). The Israeli government has tried unsuccessfully for years to secure his release, and Israelis have followed the unfolding saga with intensity. Getting Shalit out of Gaza has become an obsession.

Young Israelis bring Shalit up to me all the time. They usually use his capture as a means to slam Hamas. One young Israeli, who had recently served in the army, told me that the military almost surely knows where in Gaza Shalit is being held, but that it’s scared that any secret operation might result in Shalit’s death.

In addition to the talk, posters of Shalit dot many Israeli street corners. A handful of marches were held today, though from my reading it’s unclear whether they were meant to commemorate Shalit, push the Israeli government to take more action, or criticize Hamas. The newspaper articles were also filled with Shalit coverage.

The Israeli government has made it clear it’s willing to pay a major price for Shalit’s release. Last October, it released 20 Palestinian prisoners in exchange for a video proving that Shalit was still alive. In the last 8 months, that video has been played countless times on Israeli news stations.

Hamas also likes to dangle details of Shalit’s life in captivity in front of the Israeli public, keeping Israel on the edge of its collective seat, making sure that Shalit stays in the headlines. Just this week, for example, Hamas released news that Shalit had been watching the World Cup while under lock and key.

While there are no signs that Shalit is headed for imminent release, Israelis will keep talking and thinking about him, talking about him, and keeping memory of him alive.

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel
posted on June 23rd, 2010

I heard the rumble coming from a long way off. It sounded like the deep roar of thunder.

Employees at my hostel immediately leapt into action, the manager barking instructions to his employees.

The roar grew dramatically, and then it was suddenly gone. Moments later I heard footsteps down the hallway. A giant of a man poked his head into the hostel common area and waved hello, a motorcycle helmet in his hand, “Gospel Riders Road Tour” emblazoned on his shirt.

The Gospel Riders have come from Finland to Israel in a team of 20+ and are motorcycling around the country. According to their website, which you can see here, their mission is to use their “motorcycles as a means to share the gospel.” (CORRECTION: Seeupdate below). My hostel has been pretty empty the last few days, but the Gospel Riders have been on the books for 6 months and were slated to take up most of the rooms. Needless to say, the hostel folks were thrilled.

The group parks its motorcycles out front, and they’ve become something of a spectacle in the neighborhood, with Israelis and Palestinians alike stopping to admire them.

The riders, I believe, are out to dinner at the moment. I’m hoping to get a better chat with them and snap a few photos, all of which I’ll share with you asap.

Update: Ah, so I’ve made an error. When writing about the Gospel Riders above, I mistakenly linked to a website that is not the Finnish Gospel Riders site! You can see the right one here.

According to their brochure: “The Gospel Riders are a group of motorcyclists who combine both the Christian faith and motorcycling. Our aim is to support our member’s spiritual growth and develop their individual responsibilities and riding abilities.”

The group arrived with 21 bikes, and the members are very enthusiastic and willing to talk about their work. It’s taken them 25 days to bike from Helsinki to Jerusalem, though they shipped their bikes from Greece to Finland, thereby skipping much of the Middle East.

Gospel Riders President, Mika Saarinen told me that the group has sister organizations in Spain, Estonia, and Jerusalem. The Finnish chapter has 900 members.

And you’ll see I’ve added photos.

Written by: Theodore May
Topic: Israel
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