I've finally been hit with a bit of a cold, so I'm taking a little time to rest this evening & tomorrow, so hopefully I'll try and write a bit more & catch up on things. Here are just a few odds and ends,
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The other night it was raining, you know, not crazy downpour, but just consistent rain and cold wind. For most of the day the Ramallah hills were blanketed in clouds of mist and fog, with the rain arriving later in the afternoon. for the last few weeks almost, it has been so unseasonably warm that I am glad the land is getting some rain finally. I walked through some fields of olive trees outside Nablus the other day and the soil was dry and hard; now Im sure that it is all muddy and feeling much better.
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Recently I spent a few days back in Nablus, which is a great city, particularly the old city. After visiting the surviving Turkish bath, we wandered the alleys of the souk, which is probably one of the best in Palestine. One of the stalls had about ten different kinds of olives to choose from, in large plastic buckets. I was going to come back and buy some, but I lost track of time and didnt get to it, but they were excellent. The ones I wanted were green in color, but soaked in hot peppers and oil. There were also small stuffed eggplants that I was going to get, and I had just had some in ramallah that were excellent, These, however, like the olives, were with hot peppers, whereas the ones in Ramallah were stuffed with nuts and cheese & soaked in oil. They were great, but i am craving something a bit spicier.
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I also had some great hoummus and ful one morning in Balata refugee camp, lots of lemon and oil in the mix. At first I thought that we had ordered too much, but we ended up eating everything, down to the last chick pea.
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I have actually been avoiding spicy food since I got here, due to some stomach problems, which go to the point of acid reflux over here, and it was quite nasty I must say. So, I pretty much stuck to hoummus and bread for awhile, until I discovered the healing power of palestinian buttermilk. It is basically milk, with a yogurt like culture, and alot of salt; seriously, that's all it is! I've been drinking the stuff so much that a man in Ramallah (whose store I frequent regularly) has dubbed me "Abu Leban," that is, Father of Buttermilk. When I was confronted by dozens of crazed and armed setter youth, they at one point noticed that I had a bottle of leban in my hand, which was of course made in Al-Khalil (Hebron) by Palestinians; 'Arabi,' they muttered to each other. Yes, despite its great health benefits, my leban addiction did almost lead to settler violence!
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I had an onion with me the other day, at a demo in Bil'in, in case of tear gas but they didnt use it. When we were driving home, I took it out of my pocket and the smell of onion filled up the van in seconds.
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I could write for days about Balata refugee camp, there are some many things to say and describe. Whenever you walk the streets of Balata, children in groups of 5 or 6 or more run towards you asking quite loudly "what is your name?" "where are you from?"and other english phrases they learned in school or on TV. There is one in particular, and I have yet to take a picture of him, who has a silly and somewhat insane smile, partly because he is missing front teeth, so the ones that are there stick out on the side like a vampire or something. His face is covered with scars from infections and he is spirited, but thin. I assumed he was 9 or 10, but was told he is 14, like many children of Balata, he has suffered from extreme malnutrition. On top of that, his front teeth were knocked out by a rubber coated metal bullet. His family is replete with people either shot, arrested, beaten, dead, or combinations thereof. But he is always smiling and laughing when I see him in the street
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The other night I was in the village of Bil'in, just in case the army comes to arrest yet another child of this village. Thankfully, they did not.
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more coming soon,
thanks
Jon
http://backinpalestine.blogspot.com/
http://www.palsolidarity.org