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SWISS AIR SPACE, ABOVE THE ALPS --
As I look out the window at the sun setting over the Alps, I think back to sunrise this morning, over the mountains of Jordan with the Egypt-Israel border in the foreground. Quite a journey already today. We've just departed Milan's Malpensa Airport -- in my rusty Italian, that translates as 'poorly thought out.'
Stopping at Malpensa on the way to Tel Aviv, it cost me 20 Euro to get simply from the terminal to a nearby hotel, where I intended only to sleep and then return for the red-eye to Tel Aviv. My complaints about the hotel and lack of eateries in the airport -- Gucci and such were just closing, but all I could get was a salami sandwich at 20h30 -- turned out to be trivial.
After having settling into my window seat and watching the last pieces of baggage loaded up the conveyor, I suddenly noticed the conveyor reversing direction, and understood enough of the ensuing announcement in Italian to know that our bags were being removed from the aircraft and that we would have to deplane and identify each piece individually before departure.
Such is the reality of flying to Israel, indeed of living in Israel every day.
Ironically, much of my time in Israel these past two weeks was tranquil, until Sunday's bombing in Tel Aviv, that is, this time not a suicide but a backpack at a bus stop that killed a commuter. Until then, my only concern was staying hydrated (ironic in the humidity, eh?) and sufficiently sun-protected.
Oh sure, in the back of your mind are some wandering concerns about general safety, but then no greater are they than the notion that any of us could go at any moment, in a philosophical sense. Except that in Israel, the philosophical meets the tangible, as one quickly becomes accustomed to layers of security. Simply entering a falafel/shawarma stand in downtown Tel Aviv means having bags -- and sometimes person -- checked.
Driving back from the pub late one evening, my cousin Yaniv and his wife Elise were pointing out various landmarks in the city -- this is the club where 20 were killed, that was the place where so-and-so blew himself up, etc. They don't say this tongue-in-cheek, mind you, simply with the acceptance that such is life in Israel.
What struck me as ironic, one of so many concepts, was that hardly anyone with whom I came in contact was religious, at least not in the conventional definitions. Jews in the States and Canada, it turns out, tend to be more strict with the whole kosher thing, attending services, and the like. Israelis are secular, by and large, forgoing the skull cap and porkless diet in favour of the American work-and-spend ways. Yet the targets that the suicide bombers, if we'll accept that term for now, have targeted have been the secular ones, the capitalist ones, not places of worship or religious significance.
Upon arrival, I attended a party in the West Bank settlement home of cousins. We sat under the olive trees in this hillside, quintessentially Mediterranean locale, almost blissfully surrounded inside an armed gate and barbed wire fence. Tali gave me a tour later in the day, pointing out Sharon's new wall that was going up less than a kilometer away, as well as the surrounding Arab villages. They used to have friends in the neighbouring village, Tali pointed out, but eventually had to cease contact as it was too difficult for both sides. In another twist of irony, here were two families that were putting aside the bullshit and trying to live as humans, and yet faced the reality of questioning and potential outcast from their own people.
How, you ask, with that mentality pervading, will peace ever exist?
Israelis will tell you that it cannot exist so long as Yasir Arafat is the Palestinian leader. After all, under Ehud Barak Israel was willing to go far past halfway -- nearly 100% in fact -- to satisfy the land and compensation demands of the Palestinians. Arafat dismissed this, as it would have meant his eventual obsolescence as Palestinian leader. No, Israelis insist, Arafat's power resides in the continual struggle of his people, not their advancement.
I met two French diplomats in Jordan, on holiday from their posting in Ramallah. As you can imagine, their view of things was slightly different, and valuable to my experience in the region. Crossing back into Israel, we immediately faced guns drawn and questions abounding from the security personnel.
"It's their choice," said the gentleman of Algerian descent. "Always with the guns, but it doesn't have to be this way. They can choose to see us as enemies, or they can choose to be civilised."
Civilised is not how matters of security are handled in today's Israel. They haven't the time or patience for such formalities. Indeed, every inch of non-diplomatic matter on us was searched, and I received many questions about my photocopied guidebook pages and an upcoming visit to Sweden. Ah yes, the subversive and highly threatening Lonely Planet.
Patience also runs thin amongst many Israeli civilians, who openly talk about Arabs with distrust and disdain. A large number would be satisfied with a pullout of settlements in Gaza and the West Bank not contiguous with Israel, yet any hopes of the 95+ per cent land return seem to have faded with the entrance of Sharon, the second intifada, and the events of 11 September.
So the two sides at loggerheads -- Sharon and Arafat -- seem to have produced this period neither of peace nor of all out war. A bomb goes off, life goes on. Soldiers go on an offensive, life goes on. Life went on at what was perhaps the best meal of our time in Israel, an Arab restaurant frequented by the aforementioned cousins. Jews and Arabs dined at tabled side by side, the food plentiful and outstanding in freshness and quality, the banter lively and spirited.
'Side by side' seems to be the best option for the time being. Likely unrealistic to expect Israelis and Palestinians to live together, we can at least hope for a relatively tranquil coexistence.
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