I have arrived in Palestine. Actually I got here a week ago. I’m just not feeling terribly inspired to write. The overland trip from Paris to here was fabulous, though a bit exhausting. Everyday I was packing my bag yet again and heading off to the next point on my route. And this is the Middle East: things move, just terribly slowly!

So our thirty hour train ride from Istanbul arrived in Aleppo after thirty seven hours. Every place was so unique, though my favorites were by far the city of Istanbul and in general Syria. How vague can I be, eh?

I arrived here in Palestine and was immediately struck by an awareness. I’m still not sure if the categories of better or worse could apply. And surely better for one group could mean worse for the other. Things are simply a bit different. The wall is built all the way up to Calandia—the check point I cross to go out of Ramallah. An English friend I met in Syria described it thus: “It’s very…wallish.” I laughed. But he was right. Nothing could give a more imposing and isolating feel than this wall. The traffic at the check point is rerouted to create more chaos in a smaller space. Brilliant! As I rode in the cramped van up towards Ramallah, I was struck by how much cleaner the streets were, and I lost myself in romanticized memories of life in Ramallah. I yelled out “ein-duck” to alert the driver that he should stop. A choir repeated my call, and the man pulled over. I jumped out with no little amount of effort (two heavy bags were my burden!), and walked towards Amideast—my old work where Fidah awaited me. We hugged and kissed and hugged and kissed some more before heading home to see the kids, whom I hugged and kissed for a few more hours.

I’m started to teach professional skills courses this week, which only last for a couple of weeks. And as I’m only here for a visit, the timing works well. I already want to stay longer. Sadly I only have six weeks before I leave again. But these people are family. This place home. I will always come back and visit them.