Ps

I remembered the cinnamon sticks.

Our day of rest!!

Our work is done and we find ourselves back in Jerusalem weary and overwhelmed by our experience of the past two weeks.
However we can relax for today is our day off.

So where do we find ourselves after queing in the post office for little short of an hour in order to send a thank you gift to our hosts in Gaza only to be told that the likelyhood of it reaching its destination is slim.

We find ourselves at Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum. I am not even going to attempt to describe this experience, I don't have the words or the capacity right now.

I am ready for home, I feel ready to wrap myself up in my duvet and after a good long sleep and a hot bath try to begin to process some of my experiences here. I need some normality.
I need a safe space. I need to cry about everything and everyone.
love from Jerusalem

Liz xxx

Farewell from the Holly Land*

We had a little time to spare today, our last day, so thought we would have an emotionally relaxing time by visiting Yad Veshem followed by a light tour of the Museum of the Seam.

Liz is currently in the recovery position in the Hashimi.

I am saving my recovery for a few beers later in the Jerusalem Hotel - the refuge of free thought, tolerance and resistance (we know you're great, Raed Saadeh, Our Man in Jerusalem).

Yad Veshem, the Holocaust Museum, an acutely painful and monumental experience: two quotes from there -

"In Eastern Europe, the Germans incarcerated the Jews in severely crowded Ghettos, behind fences and walls. They cut [them] off from their surroundings and their sources of livelihood, and condemned them to a life of humiliation, poverty, degeneration and death"

"A country is not just what it does - it is also what it tolerates..." (Kurt Tucholsky, German essayist of Jewish origin)

Enough of that.

The Museum of the Seam is on the Israeli side of the road splitting East and West Jerusalem. It is thoughtful and provocative exploration of how our denial of the humanity of the (marginalised) other makes exploitation possible (inevitable?). It was also a lot less pretentious than this sounds because it was all done through multimedia arts, with the odd quote from Edward Said et al.

There was also free coffee and biscuits on the roof. Which was very nice.

Wish us luck on leaving. We have left a copy of the material on our memory sticks with Mo in Nablus, which takes some of the worry out of the exit strategy. But I really don't want to miss the flight, I think it leaves about 9am.

Thank you thank you thank you to all the fine people who have given us time and patience. We know this is precious time in places where all resources are stretched to the limit. We will try to honour that time.

Goodbye.


* This final post is brought to you courtesy of the Holly Land Cafe, Ramalla.

Palestine Syndrome

I am experiencing Palestine Syndrome these last few days. I have been feeling so emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed by what I have seen and heard here that I am unable to absorb any more stories , in fact part of me does not want to hear any more stories or see any more demolished homes , deserted streets and failing businesses cos i just don't know what to do with the information. I could cry 24/7 and certainly I've done my fair share but it now seems my body has shut down. I have an overwhelming desire to sleep for hours and hours and hours and not get up. This is my experience and I have only been here for a matter of days. I cannot begin to imagine a life here.

However am slightly improved today after spending yesterday afternoon at the Turkish baths in an attempt to revitalise myself. I find myself torn between never wanting to leave the Palestinian people, they are truly amazing, the kindest and most hospitable I have ever met although the lamb sandwich I was given this morning I could have done without! On the other hand i feel that i want to get away from here because of the distress the situation here is causing me. Things are worse here than I ever anticipated.

It do however feel privileged to be here and wouldn't swap this experience for the world but am ready to experience life as i know it. We are so so lucky to have the freedom we have in the UK.
Liz x

Sideways scouts

Sideways scouts



and here I am again. These are probably the last pictures you are going to get for a while as the camera is eloping with a girl from Balata. So I thought the Palestinian scouts deserved a mention. This lot are the Nablus scouts. They can make one hell of a noise. Apparently there is a jamboree of arab scouts in Bethlehem every Christmas and it is traditional for it to end in a pitched battle between rival factions. The Syrian troops are reputedly the feistiest and generally kick things off. So, now you know, don't mess with the scouts.






The pram was hanging out in a traditional spice and herbal medicine workshop. It is fairly improbable and looks like it could actually have been knitted and thus deserves immortalisation in the blogosphere.

The kids are in Balata - we are back there shortly. They have more bounce per ounce than your average kid.

Hello from Balata camp


I will be brief as my head isn't working properly at the moment. This particular moment comes to you courtesy of some emergency neurological circuits bypassing the information overload produced by back to back meetings all day.


Hey, had you noticed that I get more circumlocutive the more knackered I am? That can't be right, surely? Must see a mental health professional. But not today please. I have seen more than is healthy. Anyway. Here's a photo:


Recognise anything Mika?

Liz is in the Turkish baths right now but promises to blog later...

The amazing disappearing trick

I have no idea why the last couple of posts aren't appearing on the blog at the moment - maybe they will reappear as magically as they went.

But their mysterious momentary hiatus has reminded me of the amazing disappearing Palestinian trick that an Israeli demonstrated for us. It goes like this:

First, you find yourself a wide eyed and eager (and possibly fluffy tailed) tourist and wait until they ask where the Palestinians are, are they over there, for instance, in that [gesticulate in direction of choice] town?

Oh no, you say, [with air of great condescension] Those people are Israeli Arabs.

Israeli Arabs?

No! Not Israeli Arabs.

Not Israeli Arabs?

There are no Israeli Arabs. They like to be called Israeli Citizens. [with air of sincere finality]

Et voila, the disappearing Palestinians.

This doesn't happen here in the West Bank, however - which is, as everybody knows (even fluffy tourists) full of bad bad bad Palestinians, as bad as our new friend Mohammed, who is so bad he needed to be shot in the back and imprisoned to try and improve him.

Personally I cannot find anything to improve.

He sends love, Mika xx

ps many gunshots outside the hotel. think we will stay here. fairly scary. Someone just wandered in and told me to stop worrying.

Dreaming in Nablus

These images are Gaza.

Good morning.
I am quite perky again today although Liz is not. It will take a long time to begin to turn the days in Gaza into some kind of sense - I am not even going to begin to try to be coherent about it yet. We met some incredible people, we were overwhelmed. We were horrified. In brief though:
1. It is a lot easier to get in to Gaza than to get out.
2. This was not due to being kidnapped.
3. It is because of Erez. Israel's very own heart of darkness. More another time. Un fucking believably evil.
4. Despite today's headlines, word in Gaza city is that Alan J is alive and well, everyone knows where he is - with a very powerful family, untouchable by the P.A, and it is about a ransom.
5. Everyone is very very pissed off with them.
6. We hope they are right.
7. Beautiful revolutionary Palestinian women in Gaza use Clarins moisturiser.
8. In a just world I will ride horses with Neda down the Gaza coastline. And no men will stop us.


Back to Nablus.
Our journey here felt very chilled indeed after Gaza, despite the checkpoints; again, eclipsed by Erez.

But I had a dream last night, which went on for hours (I have been have the most intense dreams since we arrived but will not bore you with any others). I dreamt that we were being bombed - gunfire in the streets in Gaza was routine, so I woke up unsurprised. Then Liz said she has been kept awake by the sound of explosions. Yes, Nablus was being attacked in the night. Israeli incursions here are a near daily occurrence - mostly at night, but occasionally, for variety during morning, noon or eve.

Other than that the city seems so lively and normal after Gaza, maybe anything would seem normal.

It is also very beautiful - we have just been through the old town - its maze like layout must give the Palestinians an advantage. It is also a souk in parts the roofs meeting in the middle. A little hard for tanks to bulldoze through without having buildings collapse on top of them.

Uploading images is a little tricky in Palestine - generally speaking computers are of the steam engine variety. This is inconvenient for us, but another facet of the daily grind for the locals. We have a little time on our hands this morning as a couple of people on their way up from Jerusalem to join us for a meeting are stuck at the checkpoint outside town. So the next couple of days will need to be rejiggled a little. Hey ho.

I promise that I will talk you in great detail through the 15 or so separate security processes necessary to cross Erez. Each of which could have been designed for cattle.

If you want to avoid that particular post then you can either:
1. Look out for the Erez title
or
2. Pretend you were the 4 or 5 year old Palestinian boy in front of us who had to go through it, then grit your teeth and dive in.

Over and out.

Don't go changing!
x

lost for words

Friday the 13th

Hello and good morning from your foreign correspondent here in Palestine. I am not quite sure why I have decided to post this photo as it reminds me of a photo of my nana in which she is wearing a similar colour scarf leaning over her garden gate. The question is then I suppose Am I turning into my nana? I do hope not, not yet anyway. She was never in Palestine that's for sure.

Well it has been an interesting couple of days since I last communicated. We have been up to the very north of Israel and the Golan heights, to Jaffa, the Dead Sea and back to Jerusalem yesterday for a political tour, which for me has been the most emotionally difficult experience so far. I felt like i just wanted to sleep for ever last night and had very vivid dreams early this morning.

As you may imagine we have eaten many meals during this time on the road including falafel falafel and some falafel. I didn't really fancy the burgers.

Yesterday was the first day that we have gone without falafel. A falafel free day. I hope you realise what an achievement this is and reward us accordingly.

Since we introduced you to Mary we have acquired two other travelling companions. There names are Mary and Mary and I would like to introduce you to them but would also like to keep their introdutions until next time. So until next time xxx

They get knocked down but they get up again

[imagine this on Fabian way, anybody? It is the only road into a Palestinian village: making any cars left inside rather pointless)

We went out with Abu Hassim on his political tour of Jerusalem this morning - you can imagine that the Israelis make running this business really easy for him. It was gruelling to say the least.

My personal worst moment - I couldn't film or photograph what was happening for obvious reasons - so I will bung it in the blog before it falls out of the close to overloaded brain. We spent some of the tour trying not to cry too obviously. (I was doing pretty well until tonight when something daft set me off in a Palestinian restaurant. Liz is becoming aquainted with my sentimental and superstitious sides).

We went through a Palestinian suburb of East Jerusalem through which the wall runs - right down the middle of the main street, dividing the inhabitants from each other. The road then ends in a huge pile of Israeli dumped rubble, the end of what was the road to Ramallah - the detour through residential streets winds miles out of the way (part of the maze of blocks, detours, gates and checkpoints that the Israelis are creating for Palestinians - and this is nothing to do with dividing Israel from the West Bank for 'security' reasons - it is clearly to fragment and divide the Palestinian population within their own city).

[People squeezing through a gate that dissects their neighbourhood - completion of the wall may close this permanently]

So, in the maze we came across a Palestinian truck trying to do a 3 point turn down a tiny road which was never designed for this kind of traffic. His job was made harder by the Israeli jeep parked in the way, with its door wide open, blocking the road. The soldiers inside were ignoring the situation completely. The truck driver and his mate just carried on patiently maneuvering around the jeep. We sat there fuming at this arrogant, pointless obstructiveness and the humiliation it seemed designed to provoke.

This is what is left of some chap's house: The iniquitous Israeli designed planning laws tie Palestinians into catch 22 situations with their housing. Many have given up trying to comply and build anyway - unable to afford the average 10 years and 100.000 shekels that a licence will cost them. The insecurity of saving and waiting is then replaced by the insecurity of whose house the IDF are coming to bulldoze next. We saw a few squashed flat.

What may strike you as particularly incomprehensible is that this is happening in East Jerusalem - which is not part of Israel. Under international law it belongs to the Palestinians. What we witnessed today is that the Israeli state can act with absolute impunity.

Anyway back to our friend and his squashed house:

This is the pile of blocks ready to begin rebuilding - for the third time!

Over and out. I think the fragrant Ms Porter may sign in au matin. Hey, thanks for the message Flo - give Mr Fluffy a tickle from me xx

Friday 13th tomorrow.

Oh god loads more stuff, it just keeps on coming.

OK, I can't be doing with chatting much about Kiryat Shimona right now. Mooli is as great as I remembered, Liz was reluctant to leave. The Golan region is strange, occupied, military, grasped tightly with all claws extended. We stayed last night in the oddest vast 'youth hostel', the architecture of which resonated strangely with Ben Gurion Airport. Maybe tomorrow I will go into the bomb shelters again with you good people (they are marvellously well decorated), and gaze out of the Community Stress Prevention Centre's windows again at where the rockets hit last summer and torched the woods.

Potted history of the area - Israel nicked it off Syria a while back and its indigenous population, the Druze (unique culture, monotheistic religion) are ambivalent about whether they want to be given back or not. Frankly, my dears, I suspect the Israeli powers that be do not give a damn about your opinions, mixed or not, they are there for your strategic importance as a bit of land.

(Here is a picture with what do with a bit of land of strategic importance. Just in case you've got one spare lying around.)

However, we had the loveliest afternoon on the borders of Lebanon, Israel and Syria with our new acquaintance, Rajaa. She is liberated, chilled, home loving, generous and open. She has a fabulous home too, a dab hand with the decor: warm toasty burner, Danish pictures from a random danish friend, handsome babies scattered about, and an extraordinarily beautiful husband safely tucked up serving in his cafe. We picked her up in there, not him, sadly. She works in a local University which was luckily for us on strike today, and does peace work with Jewish and Druze Youth.

Although identifying herself strongly as Syrian she is not keen on giving up her car, job, opinions and freedom as a woman on the edges of Israel to risk enforced Hijab wearing and sexual oppression under an Islamic state. She agrees that this is not the case with her Druze sisters in Lebanon, but they are not the ones likely to be handed her chunk of land in any possible peace settlement with Syria. Tricky. But we didn't promise you easy politics here.

[This is the Druze flag, Rajaa can megaphone from here to her Uncle - this is the border. His house is one the other side - 500metres away]

Great vibe in her town. Won't bore with our theorising about it all this afternoon - suffice it to say the Druze of the Golan rock - gorgeous and open and clear - best of luck to them and all who sail with them...

Nearly time for bed.

There is so much to say, and unfortunately I am too tired to say it with any of the vim and vigour it deserves. The bastard wall deserved its own post. It crept up on us when we weren't looking and my heart jumped out of its little socket when its glowered at me.



Would you like to look at a pretty picture when we recover together? Then I will tell you a little story...





Are you sitting comfortably? Then I will begin. So, we are heading for Kiryat Shimona, out of East Jerusalem towards Jericho and up the Jordan Valley. Remember (if you ever knew or cared) that between here and Jericho and around and beyond, we are in the West Bank, well inside the green line, but swarming with settlements and flash roads lined with stony hills, and much much poorer Palestinian villages, somewhere on the sidelines.







We stop for water. We pick up 3 hitchers (it's a tic of mine, can't help it). They are cute girls, very hippy, a bit frekkly and stuff and very very young - and from a settlement. They ask us if we fancy a dip in a remote hot spring on the Dead Sea, nearly on our way. Fine... We judge a bit of a line with them ie they are just kids, and they are so painfully ignorant of their own history and politics it is rather eerie.





The hot springs are precisely that, the place looks nice and pretty, Liz floats a bit, then stings a bit (inevitably), then gets a bit pissed off with it all stinging and we want to get on with our day now. Bringing the hippy chicks back towards a main(ish) road from this obscure place (not wanting to leave them out to fry) I ask them whether we are still in the West Bank (we crossed a checkpoint, and I am aware that the green line extends about half way down the Dead Sea).



They have absolutely no idea what I am talking about.

Nada.

Ok, I say, you know Jericho is a Palestinan town, right? "Where?" That big fuck off town right there in front of you? "Oh you mean (insert Hebrew to fit)". Yep, Okay ... "That's not Palestinian. That's an arab town now [in tone of great concession] but it used to be Ours." Right. Sack full and cats come to mind. So what about where we are now? "Oh, this has always been Ours." (airy gesticulation that encompasses much of the Dead Sea, West Bank and possibly even bits of Jordan). Jericho is Jewish in about the same way that London is Roman.



I find this all rather worrying.



There is a particular kind of Steiner vibe about this very particular kind of (oh dear I don't wish to generalise and I may be a about to, help help) Israeli youth. Great fabrics, soft pastel colours, fab sandals and a kind of scary big hole in the middle where the powers of reason roam in other mere mortals.

Liz, bless her tolerance chats kindly to them when I spit out mean little comments on the sidelines every time they say something more than usually irritating.

It was a bit of a relief to get shot of them and zip up the Jordan valley on our own. The checkpoint out of the West Bank was grim, but had nowhere near the impact of the Wall. This was because there was not a non Israeli soldier in sight, other than ourselves, and after all they were so cute, right? in their natty little khaki uniforms, and so smiley to us as they waved us through with our neat UK passports ... and they couldn't have been move than 18 years old,.. same age as the lovely girls ... they might even have been at the same schools... with the same blind spots in their educations,.. and they had guns ... lots of big guns...

Suddenly I was glad not to be Palestinian.

But I would not entirely want to be an occupier either.




[A Point of View: Nice, but dim]
PS

Oh, and by the way, our route north up the Jordan valley and up into the Golan Hights from East Jersualam isn't possible if you happen to be Palestinan and from the West Bank. You could do it if you were Palestinian and from East Jerusalem but it would have taken you considerably longer, if at all. And that is without floating anywhere.

I have nothing to say that meets this evil bastard wall

Ellie 10 points and a gold star

Hello you lot. As the title may suggest Madame Ellie recives 10 points for working out how to show the love on line. Well. maybe 9 and a half, as there is no photo of the gimp.

We have been off line since Monday - I know you are all just aching for the next gripping instalment, and are just too dense to work out how to use the comments button (yes, you know who you are)...

To our right, and slightly below, are our portraits of Hassidic and Arabic Old City Jerusalem. Spot the difference?

We have had the most intense and incredible couple of days.

(Pause when the video camera is dropped on the floor by person or persons unknown (liz)).

In fairness, I get the lovely job of doing lots of lovely self indulgence ie blogging when Liz is sweating over a hot video camera transcribing our interview with Siham and Anan in the Palestinian Counselling Centre.

Of that, very little here: just our thanks, again again and again to them, for what they have given us.

We have been moved.

We left the building feeling connected, humbled, inspired. We knew that whatever else happens everything that has gone into this project was many many more times than worthwhile.

This is not the space, at least not tonight when I need to unwind a bit, to talk much about it...

Moving on...

I am having a slight photo upload issue here, bear with me.

Good evening and welcome

Good evening and welcome inside the holy city with us.
I would just like you all to know that actually we have not as yet done any knitting for peace. There are 2 reasons for this 1 Sonja is not yet a knitter and 2 i just haven't had time. I have been so busy eating falafel and sleeping and walking round in circles (we get lost fairly easily)that when can i possibly fit it in?
The falafel pitta is slightly different from that which i am used to as here in the holy city it contains not only falafel, raita, tahini, tomato and chilli sauce but also cold soggy chips. Yes that's the magic extra ingredient out here, cold soggy chips.
If you fancy trying this at home you would need to deep fry your chipped potatoes, leave them overnight on a metal tray or something not very absorbent and then next morning, at the earliest add them to your fresh falafel. I cannot guarantee that after consumption you will feel like you are here with us but surely worth a try.

I actually had another extra ingredient in today's falafel pitta that I have not had before and that was bright pink dyed pickled vegetables. I would like to be able to tell you how to prepare this to experiment with at home but unfortunately i don't have a clue.
I have included a picture of the said pink pickled vegetables for your delight.




We have also decided to use this blog to record our losses. So far we have just lost one item and that was our Lonely Planet Guide book and on this occassion the credit goes to Sonja.
I will leave you now as Sonja and I need to go and get some dinner. Can anyone guess whats in store?

Still Monday 9th

Hello.

On the right here is liz modelling the division between east and west Jerusalem... to the left of the middle of the road, west; to the right east. We haven't gone left yet.
but nobody is fooling that Israel isn't permeating the east too, in the deprivation, in the 2000 lost hotel rooms and in the occasional blue flags in the souk, another house bought up for Israel.

This is our last day in Jerusalem for a while and we are in fine spirits and feeling very at home here in East Jerusalem. A fine day yesterday- although when we finally got around to getting on the net and checking through our photos there was a spooky lack of images form the ultra orthodox quarter - other than the tshirt we posted... It was a weirdly quiet maze of acres of brand new simulacra of the rest of the walled city. the difference was not just the spic and span new hewnness of the stone walls. The place was deadly quiet. when we finally found our way out my pulse was raised and my hackles too... We did not feel welcome in this area at all, the atmosphere felt a bit oppressive - people did not seem to acknowledge our presence, no smiles or greetings... the community seemed insular by design.

The wailing wall was the liveliest place (liz has just remarked she is not sure that lively not entirely the right word, maybe 'busy' is more exact.) It was crammed to the gunnels. Lots of extraordinarily large furry hats which were brought here a century or so ago and are still clamped firmly to heads. Jolly practical in this climate.

we crossed through an arch and were back in the warm lively souk, full of soul and such a mix of people... cultures and religions and styles. We have seen a few IDF types meandering about, although what exactly they are policing I do not know as this place has one of the safest and friendliest vibes of any inner city i have been in...

We are going for a wander soon - we have more administrative details to attend to. Won't bore you with the grisly details.

We have been lucky to meet the man who can and his partner from the Jerusalem hotel - helpful, well connected to useful things and people and a lovely spot to sit and drink beer and eat (we were magicked a table in the very busy restaurant, and even more amazing had a travel hitch which was starting to seriously stress us out sorted out...)
bye x

Monday - hello!

Here are some sideways pilgrims left over from saturday night...

Hello this is Mary who is travelling with us around the holy city of Jerusalem on this very special day in which The Lord rose from the dead. Thanks Iain for blessing us with Mary, shes a gem.

The divided city.

We are very aware of the fact that the tone has been light thus far we are just finding our feet and we are aware that we will be needing this space (the blog) to maintain our mental health

generally let of steam. Please stay open minded we are not out to offend......

The atmosphere of the our visit to the Jewish Quarter today is nicely encapsulated by the following photo:

.

thats all for now folks x

Happy Easter!
I wish we could tell you that we are sitting in the balmy luxury of the American Colonial Hotel however we are not. Due to utter fluke (or alterntively one of us really is the messiah (*see below under Jerusalem syndrome) this weekend sees a rare conjuction of the celestial stuff which means that the jewish christian and islamic major festivals coincide raether then stagger neatly across a 6 week period. Thus my friends, no room in the inn last night for us weary travellers. we showed up all hope at the Jerusalem hotel optimistic and glowing from the joy of our pilgrim sucess at entry to fort Israel and a bit windswept from the nail biting sheruck ride from tel aviv (the driver clearly needed some mental lhealth professionals on board, permanently.)

However all's well etc as last night was glorious in a kind of deliriously exhausted way - the nice man at the J hotel sorted out an alternative place and drove us there direct to the stable door. It is actually in the thick of East Jerusalem residential area. Next to the mosque. Jolly fine thing that Liz remembered the ear plugs.

Neither of us have any idea what we wrote in last night's post. Um, we probably mentioned the hysteria of some parts of the Church of the Sepulchre, provoked by, let's not go there, I don't want to feel ashamed of our fellow pilgrims.

Also (not the distance I place from the hysteria (oh, really it was very funny)

More space...

The Ethiopian monastery, which forms a dignified adjunct to the church of the holy sep was full , crowded even, but almost entirely by the white muslin draped figures of Ethiopian pilgrims. The atmosphere was ethereal, very spiritual, light and - we are struggling for words to describe it... prosaically, we had to squeeze ourselves up tiny stones stairs lined with pilgrims and punctuated by chapels of packed muslin forms - they looked as if they had grown there, very sculptural, listening with intense peacefulness to their priests... when we emerged from the final doorway onto the roof there was a view over more calm ethiopians and out over Jerusalem. They had brought there own marquee covered with fine African textiles and a splendid looking chap in gold cloth.... we didn't go in there, feeling a bit intrusive.... one of the few other western people we saw said he had attended a service of the holy Eucharist earlier in the day and it did not coming close in terms of the expression of dignity and spirituality.

there are more kinds of Christians than you could shake a stick at in that Holy Sepulchral complex.

Liz and I were tempted to form our own sect.

Maybe we already have.

* Jerusalem syndrome: medically recognised psychological disorder in which previously mentally stable people become overwhelmed by the historical and religious significance of Jerusalem, and so convinced they are the Messiah that a short spell (7 days) in required before they are afflicted by acute embarrassment and ask to go home now please.

We are watching each other closely for the first signs.

here we are... it is jerusalem it is easter we are very overwhelmed - we have just squeezed through teeny slips of space between muslin clad ethiopians up and up to a roof full of indescribable ,..
we are far too tired to even attempt to do so here,... we need to find our way out of this maze and back to damascus gate. The hookway directional radar is violently askew, captian porter is at the helm for crossing town now.

Here's loving all you fluffy easter bunnies

bye
from liz, sonja and mary. We will do more formal introductions tomorrow.

Thank you, Al and Ben.

I feel marginally more technically equipped for the duration.

As a token of my esteem here is a little fragment of our fine evening. (Eyes left!)

It is entitled 'Easter world'. And it is especially for you. x

I am unsure if one is allowed to post more than once a day - pray, be patient, anyone who has stumbled thus far with me... really dears, I am gearing up to use this spot in a socially responsible way.

Thursday: rollerblading for peace

Moses and I mostly spent a pleasant day squabbling on our rollerblades between Mumbles and the Junction.

I have been checking out how I have been feeling all day.

The range is from

• terror

at one end of the scale to

• mildly interested

at the other.

My first use of my brand new blog as shopping list

We then went to see Lin. Lin is nice. Lin lives in Mumbles and would like us to bring her some cinnamon sticks from Palestine.

Mental note to self:

I wonder if this blog will continue to read like Mo's school news book throughout our journey?

"We went to Israel on a plane. The Israelis told us to go home again" Hm, this will certainly have the benefit of being concise: this horrid horrid fear is dominating me right now... so time to press the send button ceremoniously and sign out for now - I will return, from the holy land.