Guns in Disneyland

Nablus, West Bank
Copright: Mary Hayoung Kim

In these parts of the world, visiting ‘Israel’ is like a taboo word so Laura told me her friend refers to it as ‘Disneyland.’ :) During Eid at the end of October, my friends and I visited ‘Disneyland’ where we noticed that guns are a favorite prevalent toy. As soldiers carrying guns are a familiar sight, it’s not unsurprising that kids want to play with theirs too.

According to UNRWA (the UN Reliefs and Works Agency for Palestinian refugees in the near Middle East), “Over 50 per cent of the population in Gaza is below 18 years of age. These are children who have been constantly exposed to violence. The additional severe military escalation that is currently ongoing will only add to their already-existing psychological trauma.”

I wonder what trauma, what thoughts, what heartbreaks, what fears these kids in the West Bank, in Gaza, in East and West Jerusalem have had to grow up with even if they have not been directly affected by the occupation or conflict – and how it has affected the way they look at the world.

Both sides lose loved ones. Both sides have children who shouldn’t have to pay the price, whose innocence should be guarded, who should not have to worry about ‘bad guys’ except for the ones in cartoons and bedtime stories, the ones that are no match for the heroes and always pay the price.

Unfortunately they learn from too young a age that reality – nor hero nor villain –  is neither black nor white, and endings are not always ‘and-they-lived-happily- ever-after’. The lesson of inequality, pain, and loss is too heavy of one to learn during childhood.

 

Nablus, West Bank
Copyright: Mary Hayoung Kim

These kids in the West Bank (Palestine) are growing up in the greatest unresolved conflict of modern history where ‘good guys’, ‘bad guys’, ‘fighting’ and ‘guns’ are unfortunately not just toys and games.

 

Hebron, West Bank
Copyright: Mary Hayoung Kim

 

In ‘Disneyland,’ all soldiers are armed. On the sherut from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, we met a Palestinian father who had bought a toy gun for his young son as a present for Eid. In Hebron, we were startled by the sound of shots from the toy guns that little children were playing with. In Nablus, children were immersed in playing ‘good guy’, ‘bad guy’ waving around their black toys. In Ramallah, all toy shop windows attested to the toy’s popularity. Yes, guns are universal toys that boys play with during their childhood, but in the West Bank, it felt more ironic as it appeared reflective of the game that adults were playing, the one that children witness everyday.

Kids should be able to have a Disneyland without guns and violence and fighting. A magical land of peace, harmony, and co-existence, that plants a hope in them that whatever they dream or imagine can come true if they believe. Let’s give them a gun-free Disneyland. :)

 

Hebron, West Bank
Copyright: Mary Hayoung Kim

don’t tell my mother I met..

A better part of traveling consists not only of seeing wondrous sites and scenes, but also crossing paths with a variety of interesting people whether they be fellow travelers or locals. These are some interesting people I met while traveling Israel and Palestine:

the bawab of a madrassa in Nablus, Palestine 

While walking from the location of Jacob’s Well (when some Arabs harassed Jacob’s daughter when she was going to fetch water, he and his sons built the well out of anger so that his wives and daughter would not have to be harassed again – it took 2 years to build and it’s the site of where Jesus meets the Samaritan woman who offers him a drink of water (John 4:6-26)), we passed a madrassa where we asked the bawab (a person who guards the door) for directions only to be invited inside for a cup of coffee. The school was empty because of the Muslim holiday, Eid, but we were able to share a cup of coffee with the bawab who told us about his many children and showed us computers that were donated by KOICA (Korea International Cooperation Agency).

There are Palestinians who always offer you a cup of coffee (albeit Turkish coffee). 

Nablus, West Bank, Palestine
October 27, 2012
Copright: Mary Hayoung Kim

 

shopkeepers in the Old City, Jerusalem

We came across some beautiful skirts while walking through the bazar of the Old City. The colors and the scent of the bazar are mesmerizing and will stall your walk. However, keep in mind rule #1: Never buy at the first stall, because you’ll find the same thing at better quality and better price further on. Such was our case, as the shopkeeper in the shop further down the cobbled alley was more sympathetic to our situation as poor, ‘money-less’ students. Not to mention that his skirts were made in ‘Jerusalem’ while the skirts we had seen earlier were not authentic material and made in ‘India’ (we went back to check). In the game of haggling speaking in Arabic (or native language) always helps but you need to learn to enjoy the fierce game as much as the shopkeepers do. Always use a little bit of hesitation and friendliness.

In the Middle East, there are shopkeepers who love the game of haggling. 

 

a Palestinian soldier guarding Arafat’s tomb

In Ramallah, West Bank lies the presidential compound of Arafat, the Palestinian leader and president of the Palestinian National Authority, whose popularity amongst Arabs can be attested by the paintings and pictures which are prevalent in Palestine. The presidential compound is where the Israel army put him in 2002 and where he passed away in 2004. We made it at night and although we were not allowed to walk around the presidential compound, we were accompanied to Arafat’s tomb by a Palestinian soldier who although refused to take a picture with us, kindly took a picture of us. He stopped to shake hands and show signs of respect to (seemingly important) individuals coming to pay their respects to Arafat (presumably on occasion of the Muslim holiday Eid). “너무 잘생겼어요,” I told him in Korean which Dal-lim translated on the spot into Arabic. He appeared a bit taken aback and I wondered if we had crossed the line but after a second or so, he replied very courteously in Arabic, “I’m happy that you think so.”

There are extremely handsome Palestinian soldiers with a firm handshake.  

 

hip Israel soldiers

While waiting for the bus to Hebron at the central bus station in Jerusalem, we were amongst the swarm of murky khaki uniformed Israeli soldiers, a majority of them carrying long black guns and smoking while waiting for their buses. There are the fair share of soldier couples too. Considering that all men and women must serve a mandatory 3 years in the military and then commit to a month of training every year, you will see Israeli soliders in uniform everywhere. On this particular bus we sat behind a young Israeli female soldier with a big earphones, the music seeping out for everyone to hear. To our delight, Psy’s ‘Gangnam Style’ was on her playlist and when it started playing she handed her huge earphones to her friend sitting next to her, both of them bouncing to the beat. Dal-lim started excitedly singing along in the back.

There are Israeli soldiers who listen to ‘Gangnam Style.’ 

*In general, Israeli (and Palestinian) soldiers were friendly when giving directions and never said no to a photo.

with a friendly Israeli soldier at Hebron – I didn’t particularly want his picture, but after each of my 2 friends had taken pictures with him, he asked me if I wanted one as well and I of course obliged :)
October 29, 2012

 

the Jewish mayor of Hebron 

After seeing the tombs of the patriarchs (Abraham, Sarah, Jacob, Leah) at Hebron, we were waiting for a bus that would put us on the road to Bethlehem. After an extended period of waiting, we tried our first hitch-hiking and were invited to jump into a car with a very friendly Jew. It was interesting that he had dual citizenship as a citizen of the U.S. and a citizen of the state of Israel. He had studied the Torah as an undergraduate in Israel and also worked briefly as a paramedic. He spoke English like an American and told us that he lived in the Jewish part of Hebron (Note: Hebron has a majority Muslim population but with around 500-800 Jewish settlers) and worked as its representative, something to the degree of a mayor was what I understood his position to be. What was interesting was that he said he was working for equal rights for Palestinians in Hebron yet his attitude towards Arab Muslims was very set in stone: they don’t belong in Hebron. When talking about the upcoming U.S. elections, he also made it very clear that as a U.S. citizen living in Israel, although the likes of the U.S. economy were not of immediate interest to him, foreign policy (or the presidential candidates’ level of sympathy for Israel is what I should say) would be the decisive factor in his vote. And although he has never taken much of an interest to U.S. politics, he was planning to vote for Romney in this coming elections because he didn’t approve of Obama’s Middle East foreign policy or his lack of (seeming) warmth towards Jews (most likely in comparison with that of Mitt Romney).

There are Jews who will turn in their absentee votes in this coming U.S. presidential elections (2012) just to prevent Obama getting re-elected. 

getting a ride in Hebron to Bethlehem
photo courtesy of Nina Yejin Cho
October 28, 2012

 

Palestinian youth who live in Jerusalem

After our dinner at Ramallah, we managed to find a mini-bus going to the Ramallah checkpoint after the big buses to Jerusalem stopped running. In the mini-bus my friends and I made friends with 2 Palestinian youth. After we got off close to the checkpoint, we walked together to the checkpoint where they were joined by other friends. While waiting endlessly for the Israeli soldiers to open the iron gates to let each individuals through and check each identification, we had a great laugh. They were high school graduates. One of them was planning to study business at a university in Bethlehem. They lived in Jerusalem but frequently would visit the West Bank to go shopping or hang out with friends.

There are youth for whom checkpoints are a daily routine. 

on the bus to Jerusalem from the Ramallah checkpoint
October 29, 2012

 

an Arab Christian living in Bethlehem

Leaving Bethlehem, we were walking towards the checkpoint only to be told by a driver of a mini-van that we were walking towards the wrong checkpoint. The one we were heading towards was only for vehicles, not pedestrians. The tiredness from walking perhaps showed because when we asked for a ride in his van to get through the checkpoint, he told us to jump in. “Are you Christians?” he asked, to which we replied in the affirmative. In Israel and Palestine, asking about religion appears to be the most common question before asking about name, age, or occupation. “So am I,” he said and proceeded to tell us he wanted peace but that it was being obstructed by Muslims. It was interesting that he used to live in the walls of the Old City in Jerusalem, but now had moved to Bethlehem – it has one of the largest Arab Christian populations from both states. He was a very liberal Christian though, telling us about the perks of Bethlehem, its (ironically) liberal atmosphere and parties. He made small talk with the Israeli soliders at the checkpoint in Arabic but when he saw a Muslim woman and her children on the road asking for a ride, drove past them muttering, “I hate Muslims.” As friendly as he was, religious identity was the only lens he had for seeing others. What happened to love for one’s neighbor, Jesus’ second greatest commandment?

There are Arab Christians full of as much hatred as Arab Muslims have towards Jews – at least those with only one compartmentalization for people: religious identity. 

 

an Australian kid traveling the world

Our last night in Jerusalem, my friends and I were placed in a mixed dorm room hostel with two bunk beds. When we checked in and entered our room, we found the bottom bunk bed already taken and claimed with the likes of a piled mess of a black laptop, converse shoes, clothes, and purple boxers. The owner of the purple boxers and a blonde disheveled hair was an Australian kid just fresh out of high school, taking a gap year and already 2 months into traveling around the world. When I told him we were from South Korea, he got very excited (I think the effects of alcohol doubled the giddiness – I remembered seeing him in the hostel bar) and told my friends and I to wait because he had something very cool to show us, something we would love. He dashed into the bathroom and TA-DA came out wearing a pair of boxers imprinted on both sides with a Korean flag. He told us of how he visited Seoul and Busan at the beginning of his trip and his impressions of the cosmpolitan city.

There are travelers who’ve visited South Korea who buy and wear Korean flag boxers.

 

a South Korean who grew up in Kyrgystan, went to high school in Germany, college in the U.S., is studying in med school in Israel and has yet to complete his South Korean military service

Nothing made me more happy than getting to see the one and only Tim Lee! Tim is one of my closest friends from high school and I love getting to catch up with him in different parts of the world. We met up at Jaffa Gate, one of the entrances to the Old City (Jerusalem) and he kindly showed us around and explained to me the concept of shabbat as the day was Friday, the Jewish Sabbath, and everything was winding down to an early close in the city. After a year of med school in Israel, he’s conversational in modern Hebrew and his insights into and experience with the culture made for fascinating conversation. He’s had people on the streets come up to him and pet his sleek black hair out of curiosity or people who based on his Asian appearance condescendingly offer him jobs; I was jealous that he got to experience authentic shabbat dinner with his Jewish friends. After Tim graduates, he hopes to get a job as a doctor who can help people while traveling the world.

There are global citizens in every part of the world. 

with Tim in Jerusalem – behind us is the Golden Dome
October 26, 2012

“Don’t tell my mother I’m in Iran”

 

Tensions continue between Tehran, D.C. and Jerusalem but life in Iran continues like any other ordinary day (as ordinary as days can get in the Middle East). Iran seems to be one of the biggest examples of the disparity between media portrayal and political policies and its everyday life. It seems like a fascinating country. I can’t wait to visit one day..

Iran, Turkey, and Israel – the 3 main non-Arab (and democratic) nations in the Middle East. Their relations amongst themselves is also full of so many interesting dynamics.

 

I don’t think there can be a day without adventure in the Middle East.

________________________________________________________

*The “Don’t tell my mother” series captures stories that gives a taste of the country’s culture and people, what are at the heart of the nation rather than its politics, international relations , or media rhetoric that define or stereotype the country. I envy Diego Bunuel, the journalist-turned “Don’t tell my mother” host who’s visited some crazy exciting places like Afghanistan, Pakistan, North Korea, Palestine, Iraq, Iran, Lebanon, Egypt, Somalia, etc. etc.

“My goal is to show them that there is a world out there that is open and not a scary place; if you show them there are a lot of exciting places and interesting people to meet, you can touch them and give them hope that our world can change.” – Diego Bunuel

nothing beats Turkish hospitality

Hospitality served with Turkish çay
Sept. 1, 2012, Copright: Mary Hayoung Kim

 

Nothing beats Turkish hospitality – unless of course, you’re anywhere else in the Middle East where your friends and the family of your friends will go to any means and ends to make sure you are (in these three stages) well-fed, full, and bloated.

My dear friend Pelçin and her family greeted me at the airport when I arrived in Istanbul (on the first of September). They would hear nothing of my apologies of making them wait for nearly 2 hours – even her little brother had been waiting at the other end of the exit, holding up her mobile phone with my Korean name written in wriggly letters, just to welcome me and he too just smiled and chattered away my ‘kusura bakma’. To finally be back after 5 years, was a moving movement- and to be greeted in full-out Turkish style was, if it’s even possible, even more touching.

Instead of taking me directly to the place where I was planning on staying for a week, they took me to their home where I had great home-made food and insisted that I make myself comfortable and spend the night (for as many nights as I wanted). Pelçin’s baba and anne both told me that I was like Pelçin to them, and welcomed me like any daughter.

Hospitality served with Turkish kahve and lokum at Pelcin’s brother and sister-in-law’s house
Sept. 1, 2012, Copright: Mary Hayoung Kim

 

I loved being part of the late-night visiting and sohbet (conversations) among family members, relatives, friends and neighbors (such an integral part of their daily life). Like any Middle Eastern country, it’s a family and community-centered society that is knitted with jokes, laughter, çay, kahve, the latest soccer match, the latest happenings, news, and gossip, the important and not-so important things that create a hub of warmth and huzur (serenity). If all my evenings and nights could end like this..

In 5 years, Istanbul has developed and become more noticeably modern. But Turkish hospitality remains the same. :)

with Pelçin’s amazing anne :)
Sept. 2, 2012

 

Dilder, Pelçin’s younger brother. We found an area set aside at a mall near Pelçin’s home for writing and posting notes. So we decided to leave our mark as well.

 

Dilder, writing an note

 

Dilder’s note: “I love myself, my friends, my brothers, and my sister very much and of course my sister’s Korean friend as well.” I love this kid :)

 

Sept 1, 2012
Copright: Mary Hayoung Kim

 

Dilder and I :)
Because of Pelçin’s love for Korea, Dilder now wears socks with Korean flags (which is actually unthinkable in Turkey- to be stepping on your own nation’s flag!) and Angry Bird snap watches, and can sing along to Psy’s ‘Oppa’n Gangnam Style’ :D

 

wıth my dear Pelçin – ironically we wish ourselves being able to switch places, as we both have fallen in love with each other’s country and wish to live there. We had a long conversation trying to figure out the irony – but all we could come up with was ‘özgürlük’. There are surprising similarities in our cultures, but I think we’ve found more freedom in each other’s countries. Nonetheless, I think you should know that you have a great family (bilmelisin, senin ailen muhteşem). :)

Istanbul

The Bosphorus (Boğaziçi)
Copyright: Mary Hayoung Kim

 

It’s the color of the sea that brings about the resemblance between Venice and Istanbul – the dark sequoise blue. But if Venice feels like a petite, picturesque town, then Istanbul is a bustle of life and the intersection of civilizations.

To drink or not to drink, that is the question

To drink or not to drink, that is the question.

At least, it was for me, a young female yabancı on my own wandering in the city of Istanbul. The morning I set out, I reassured my worried mom with 2 promises: not to follow strangers and not to drink anything given by strangers. What a silly nonsensical thing to do, I had told her – I definitely didn’t see myself doing both so quickly after the phonecall.

I must have had ‘gullible tourist’ written all over my face, because within minutes of my having begun to explore, a middle-aged man approached me and kindly informed me that the mosque was closed for prayer for the next hour. “I’m a designer, would you like to see my gallery?” It was asked in a way that was hard to refuse as he was already starting to redirect me as smoothly as he had begun the conversation. It was an iznik porcelain shop in the alley off the main street and I was warmly welcomed by his partner although I was pretty sure I did not look as if I were carrying any amount of cash that could afford what was displayed in the shop. I think they wanted me to be a rich and gullible tourist (the latter perhaps I wouldn’t disappoint), so I sensed a surprise in the partner’s words to the man who brought me, “Look, she speaks good Turkish,” that didn’t carry so much delight and lacked the initial warmth. I don’t think I was their appropriate bait.

And as if on cue or routine, the young boy in the shop brought elma çay(apple tea) to where the partner had indicated for me to sit, and I hesitated.

To drink or not to drink, that was my question.

I didn’t doubt Turkish hospitality or the sweetness of the elma çay, but neither did I doubt the veracity of the firsthand accounts of travellers having been deceived by the facade of hospitality in this beautiful but tourism-reliant city nor the secondhand stories that I had heard of tourists who had taken a drink from strangers here and had ended up waking up at later hours with missing wallets or watches. This type of scenario happened several years earlier to a Korean man who had been traveling alone and after he was reported AWOL, his body was found dead in the Bosphorus and his empty wallet was discovered somewhere in Taksim. I would guess that this occurs most probably after sunset, and not in the broad daylight, but as the only female surrounded by 3 males in the quiet shop, it turned into an internal struggle.

If only I weren’t alone – then I’d make my other friend drink it first, was a thought that crossed my mind.. Are there people who are allergic to apple tea, was another as I searched for legitimate excuses.. I stood up and began looking around the shop not sure how I could escape without offending what had every appearance of innocent hospitality. Thankfully at that moment a French couple stepped in and now that the shop had found interested potential buyers, I was no longer the center of attention. My instincts, trained by crossing Turkish streets, told me this was my cue but as I made my move to leave, apologizing that I had a ‘friend’ to meet, the middle-aged partner with the most peculiar light green eyes said, “Lütfen, beni kırıyorsun.”(literally- please, you’re breaking me.) “Aren’t our countries like brothers,” he said, “Please,” pointing back to the seat and the apple tea.

Oh boy. How can you refuse tea from a brother. I took the ‘risk’, finished the last drop praying that Allah had given me an impenetrable immune system, received a name card, gave my own, and hurriedly left while the French couple were still in the shop, vowing never to follow strangers and find myself in awkward situations (at least not when I’m alone).

That’s the thing about wandering alone. Because you have to look out for yourself, you become overly-sensitive and adept at questioning ulterior motives. When the waiter winks at you and takes your phone and adds himself as your friend on your Facebook, when a stranger asks you for directions on the metro and then casually asks if he can join you for lunch or if not dinner the next day, and so on and so forth (just a few question asking moments from my last 4 days),

To flirt or not to flirt.

To be friendly or not be friendly.

To follow or not to follow. (DON’T FOLLOW)

To drink or not to drink. (DON’T DRINK, ESPECIALLY AT NIGHT)

These are all the questions I ask myself when I’m wandering alone on the streets of Istanbul. But to all who are traveling alone, a cliche is a cliche for a reason: Better to be safe than sorry.

But man, the elma çay was good. :-)

the elma çay, taken by phone :)