A cool breeze sent us on our way as I inhaled the delightful scents of jasmine and pine. We walked down a rocky path to the smaller, more convenient door in Tantur's boundary wall and punched in the code to make it open. It was time for another prenatal check-up at Holy Family Hospital in Bethlehem, and this time Steve and I were going to walk there.
The first thing I noticed after we got off Tantur's property was the trash. We were on a dirt path, which led to a back road that didn't seem very used by cars, but there was litter on both sides. Little did I know, it would get worse! It was less than a ten minute walk to the dividing boundary between West Bank and Israel, but we were slightly confused as to how to go in as pedestrians. Passing by even bigger piles of trash on the sides of the road and then the zigzagging sidewalk, we went through two large turnstyles and found ourselves officially in Bethlehem.
We were immediately greeted by a gathering of taxi drivers, very anxious to get our business and drive us somewhere -- anywhere! Wanting to explore on foot this time, we turned them all down, but one even followed us down the street half a block, persistent beyond my comfort level. The barrier wall was on our right and the sun was high and hot. Since we'd gone through the pedestrian checkpoint (different from the car one) and since the wall zigzags through town at this point, even cutting Hebron Road right off from itself (to keep Rachel's Tomb inside Israel), we were on what seemed to be a quieter road.
Again, my biggest impression was the assault of trash and various stenches on my eyes and nose. This surprised me. I've not only visited places like Mexico and Haiti (the impoverished parts, as a volunteer -- not as a tourist) but I've *lived* in Nigeria, where I know the trash and smells were just as bad. But I realized that it's been a long time since I've walked down sidewalks in a place like that. I tried to breathe through my mouth instead of my nose.
This was also the closest I'd been to the barrier wall. Rising about 30 feet, with barbed wire at the top, this concrete monolith effectively cuts off the West Bank from the rest of Israel. It is a very visible, physical reminder that Palestinians are not equal to Israelis. Graffiti art covers much of the lower 2/3 of the wall, everything from hastily painted angry phrases to carefully crafted thoughtful works of art to longer quotes pasted up.
We eventually made it on to a main road, which was quite congested with car traffic, and as we passed by another stand of taxis, we were accosted once again. We stood out as foreigners, I guess, unless they call out to every passerby, assuming that no one *really* wants to walk anywhere. I was getting tired of having to react "No, thank you" to every fellow who offered us his services.
I was glad we hadn't brought Miriam with us. A friend had warned me that the Bethlehem sidewalks are difficult to use a stroller on, and today I saw why. One problem is that cars park in front of a shop by just pulling right onto the sidewalk. This meant that I was constantly stepping on and off curbs. There were other obstacles, as well, from piles of rubbish to dumpsters, to vendors taking up half the space. We passed all kinds of stores, restaurants, carwashes, hotels, and numerous food vendors on our walk. I was thankful that one side of the street was mostly in the shade!
About 50 minutes after we'd set out, Steve and I arrived at The Holy Family Hospital on Pope Paul VI Road, hot and sweaty and tired of hills! We showed them my registration card, were sent first to the lab for a hemoglobin test, then had my weight and blood pressure taken, and finally were seen for a brief consult and ultrasound by a doctor. (All the signs in the hospital are in French and Arabic, and Steve noticed today that the translation of "laboratoire" in Arabic meant "seeking information.") The hallways and waiting areas were full of Muslim women, all covered from head to foot, some accompanied by husbands, others not. I wore a long skirt myself, but a short-sleeved shirt and sandals because I knew the walk would be hot. There weren't enough chairs for everyone to sit on to wait, so many of us leaned against the hallway walls.
I was seen by a different doctor than last week, and was relieved to see that the ultrasound showed that our baby is back to being 'head down.' Frustratingly, though, the doctor was very insistent that I should opt for a repeat C-section due to the fact that one of my previous births involved shoulder dystocia. Last week's doctor had also favored a repeat CS, but was less pushy about it. I left the hospital feeling discouraged and wondering if we're making the right choice in birthing at Holy Family after all.
On the way home, we stopped in at "Jumbo," a store our friend had recommended last week. We picked up a 4L bottle of shampoo, a pack of size 5 diapers, and a few other toiletries, the total coming to about 90 NIS. It was going to feel like an even longer walk home, carrying those items! We felt better about walking back, but despite correcting an error or two from the way there, the trip still took about 50 minutes. It was strange seeing tourists posing next to the Wall. I'm not sure if it felt uncomfortable because I'm here to live, not to be a tourist, or because to me the Wall signifies such pain that it doesn't seem like something to pose with. We saw a vendor pressing fresh pieces of pomegranate into cups to sell fresh icy juice, and stopped to ask what the cost was, but walked away when we heard his high answer.
This time, crossing the border back into Israel involved an actual checkpoint where we needed to put all our possessions on an X-ray machine conveyor belt, go through a metal detector, and have our passports and visas checked by Israeli soldiers wearing body armor and machine guns. As soon as we passed through the door in Tantur's wall, the fragrance of pine wafted over me and I felt relieved to be back at "home." It had been an interesting 3-hour outing...
The first thing I noticed after we got off Tantur's property was the trash. We were on a dirt path, which led to a back road that didn't seem very used by cars, but there was litter on both sides. Little did I know, it would get worse! It was less than a ten minute walk to the dividing boundary between West Bank and Israel, but we were slightly confused as to how to go in as pedestrians. Passing by even bigger piles of trash on the sides of the road and then the zigzagging sidewalk, we went through two large turnstyles and found ourselves officially in Bethlehem.
We were immediately greeted by a gathering of taxi drivers, very anxious to get our business and drive us somewhere -- anywhere! Wanting to explore on foot this time, we turned them all down, but one even followed us down the street half a block, persistent beyond my comfort level. The barrier wall was on our right and the sun was high and hot. Since we'd gone through the pedestrian checkpoint (different from the car one) and since the wall zigzags through town at this point, even cutting Hebron Road right off from itself (to keep Rachel's Tomb inside Israel), we were on what seemed to be a quieter road.
Again, my biggest impression was the assault of trash and various stenches on my eyes and nose. This surprised me. I've not only visited places like Mexico and Haiti (the impoverished parts, as a volunteer -- not as a tourist) but I've *lived* in Nigeria, where I know the trash and smells were just as bad. But I realized that it's been a long time since I've walked down sidewalks in a place like that. I tried to breathe through my mouth instead of my nose.
This was also the closest I'd been to the barrier wall. Rising about 30 feet, with barbed wire at the top, this concrete monolith effectively cuts off the West Bank from the rest of Israel. It is a very visible, physical reminder that Palestinians are not equal to Israelis. Graffiti art covers much of the lower 2/3 of the wall, everything from hastily painted angry phrases to carefully crafted thoughtful works of art to longer quotes pasted up.
We eventually made it on to a main road, which was quite congested with car traffic, and as we passed by another stand of taxis, we were accosted once again. We stood out as foreigners, I guess, unless they call out to every passerby, assuming that no one *really* wants to walk anywhere. I was getting tired of having to react "No, thank you" to every fellow who offered us his services.
I was glad we hadn't brought Miriam with us. A friend had warned me that the Bethlehem sidewalks are difficult to use a stroller on, and today I saw why. One problem is that cars park in front of a shop by just pulling right onto the sidewalk. This meant that I was constantly stepping on and off curbs. There were other obstacles, as well, from piles of rubbish to dumpsters, to vendors taking up half the space. We passed all kinds of stores, restaurants, carwashes, hotels, and numerous food vendors on our walk. I was thankful that one side of the street was mostly in the shade!
About 50 minutes after we'd set out, Steve and I arrived at The Holy Family Hospital on Pope Paul VI Road, hot and sweaty and tired of hills! We showed them my registration card, were sent first to the lab for a hemoglobin test, then had my weight and blood pressure taken, and finally were seen for a brief consult and ultrasound by a doctor. (All the signs in the hospital are in French and Arabic, and Steve noticed today that the translation of "laboratoire" in Arabic meant "seeking information.") The hallways and waiting areas were full of Muslim women, all covered from head to foot, some accompanied by husbands, others not. I wore a long skirt myself, but a short-sleeved shirt and sandals because I knew the walk would be hot. There weren't enough chairs for everyone to sit on to wait, so many of us leaned against the hallway walls.
I was seen by a different doctor than last week, and was relieved to see that the ultrasound showed that our baby is back to being 'head down.' Frustratingly, though, the doctor was very insistent that I should opt for a repeat C-section due to the fact that one of my previous births involved shoulder dystocia. Last week's doctor had also favored a repeat CS, but was less pushy about it. I left the hospital feeling discouraged and wondering if we're making the right choice in birthing at Holy Family after all.
On the way home, we stopped in at "Jumbo," a store our friend had recommended last week. We picked up a 4L bottle of shampoo, a pack of size 5 diapers, and a few other toiletries, the total coming to about 90 NIS. It was going to feel like an even longer walk home, carrying those items! We felt better about walking back, but despite correcting an error or two from the way there, the trip still took about 50 minutes. It was strange seeing tourists posing next to the Wall. I'm not sure if it felt uncomfortable because I'm here to live, not to be a tourist, or because to me the Wall signifies such pain that it doesn't seem like something to pose with. We saw a vendor pressing fresh pieces of pomegranate into cups to sell fresh icy juice, and stopped to ask what the cost was, but walked away when we heard his high answer.
This time, crossing the border back into Israel involved an actual checkpoint where we needed to put all our possessions on an X-ray machine conveyor belt, go through a metal detector, and have our passports and visas checked by Israeli soldiers wearing body armor and machine guns. As soon as we passed through the door in Tantur's wall, the fragrance of pine wafted over me and I felt relieved to be back at "home." It had been an interesting 3-hour outing...
No comments:
Post a Comment