A three-hour language class sounded like hell on slow wheels when I first signed up for my Arabic course at Al Quds University. But a few weeks into the classes now, and the three hours pass surprisingly quickly, helped along by hourly breaks where my two Swedish friends and I stand outside the room and gorge on the free chocolate wafers and Nescafe. Our teacher is Ayman, a bombastic man from Taybeh, the town known for the Taybeh Brewery, which brews “The West Bank’s Finest,” possibly only, beer. He’s openly smitten with two Italian girls in the class, and divides his attention unevenly between the two Italian beauties and the rest of us. I found, however, when I was all cuted up one day, that I was getting called on a lot more in class, so now I play along with Ayman’s style in order to better practice my Arabic. Mondays and Wednesdays I leave work a little early and go home to get my Arabic book, finish my homework and put on eyeliner, and then I head downtown to Hind Husseini College to my slightly sleazy Arabic class. Whatever it takes. No one said it was an easy language to learn.
The system of borders and checkpoints and the Separation Wall has been changing on a weekly basis in the neighborhoods around Jerusalem, and no one is quite sure exactly where things are heading. About two weeks ago on a bus trip back from Ramallah we were stopped at a checkpoint, as usual, and flashed our passports or IDs to the soldier who boarded. On the same bus, same route yesterday, we had to go through Qalandiya chekpoint, as the previously traversable road had been shut down or something. Qalandiya is this prison-like complex which is basically an international border set up by the Israeli government in the middle of Palestinian Territory, controlling and limiting movement within the West Bank and into East Jerusalem.
The bus drops everyone off here.
And then we head through the on-foot checkpoint.
Waiting for the light to turn green. We go through three of these turnstiles.
Back outside, waiting for the bus again.
