PALESTINE, JORDAN TRAVELS

Amman
Back to the tour guide -- the hills of Amman which if it were a verdant country there might be some charm, but even in the winter months it is unrelentingly bleak in the capital. However, south in the forest preserves there is vegetation and flora. The thought in my mind is that this is the future of so much of this beautiful planet, hot, dry and arid. Hopefully, a massive plague or some similar event will take hold before too long, or otherwise think of this rapacious global development as a form of planetary Euthanasia. Stand in the middle of Delhi at rush hour for 15 minutes and tell me you don’t believe in global warming. Or ride a bike through rush hour in Shanghai or NYC. Who needs climatologists? It is like standing on a street corner with a gale force wind and sticking your finger in the air to see which way the wind is blowing.

I look at this hot arid capital or Melbourne last January, and can’t we all see this very apparent blend of climate change, increased population, and increased industrial output = our children and grandchildren will be heirs to an ecological suicide, no matter how much environmentally friendly toilet paper I use.

Philadelphia:
Another city of Brotherly Love so called because of Greek rule and the reign of one of Alexander’s general.

Today we are walking up to the citadel. My brain fogged head slowly grasping this strategic hillside. Trying to focus on Philadelphia the original Greek name for Amman.
Amman has served as the modern and ancient capital of Jordan. It is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, with a 1994 excavation uncovering homes and towers believed to have been built during the Stone Age, circa 7000 BCE. There are many Biblical references to the city, which by about 1200 BCE had become the Ammonite capital of Rabbath-Ammon. The Ammonites fought numerous wars with Saul, David and others.
The history of Amman between the end of its Biblical references (around 585 BCE)¬¬¬¬ and the time of the Ptolemies is unclear. We do know that the city was renamed Philadelphia after the Ptolemaic ruler Philadelphus in the third century BCE. After coming under Seleucid and Nabatean rule, Philadelphia was taken by the Roman vassal King Herod in 30 BCE. The city became part of the Decapolis League, a loose alliance of ten Roman-ruled cities including Jerash, Gadara (present-day Umm Qais), Pella, Arbila (Irbid) and others. Under Roman rule, Philadelphia was replanned and reconstructed in typically grand Roman style with a colonnaded street, baths, an amphitheater and impressive public buildings.
During the Byzantine period, Philadelphia was the seat of a Christian bishop, and several expansive churches were built. The city declined somewhat during the late Byzantine years, and was overrun by the Persian Sassanians in 614 CE. Their rule was short-lived, however, collapsing before the Arabian armies of Islam around the year 635. The name of the city then returned to its Semitic origin of Ammon, or "Amman." It remained an important stop on the caravan routes for many years, but eventually trade patterns shifted and dried up the lifeblood of Amman. The city declined to little more than a provincial village for many centuries.
Amman’s "modern" history began in the late 19th century, when the Ottomans resettled a colony of Circassian emigrants there in 1878. Many of their descendants still reside in Amman. During that time and the early decades of the 20th century, the neighboring city of Salt was more important as a regional administrative and political center. However, after the Great Arab Revolt secured the state of Transjordan, Emir Abdullah bin al-Hussein made Amman his capital in 1921.

Sights of Interest
"Most of Amman’s noteworthy historical sites are clustered in the downtown area, which sits at the bottom of four of Amman’s seven hills, or jabals. The ancient Citadel, which towers above the city from atop Jabal al-Qala’a, is a good place to begin a tour of the city. The Citadel is the site of ancient Rabbath-Ammon, and excavations here have revealed numerous Roman, Byzantine and early Islamic remains. The most impressive building of the Citadel, known simply as al-Qasr ("the Palace"), dates back to the Islamic Umayyad period. Its exact function is unclear, but it includes a monumental gateway, an audience hall and four vaulted chambers. A colonnaded street also runs through the complex. To the north and northeast are the ruins of Umayyad palace grounds.
Close to al-Qasr lie the remains of a small Byzantine basilica. Corinthian columns mark the site of the church, which is thought to date from the sixth or seventh century CE. About 100 meters south of the church is what is thought to have been a temple of Hercules, today also known as the Great Temple of Amman. The temple was built in the reign of the emperor Marcus Aurelius (161-180 CE), and is currently under restoration.
Also on Citadel Hill, just northwest of the Temple of Hercules, is the Jordan Archeological Museum. This small museum houses an excellent collection of antiquities ranging from prehistoric times to the 15th century. There is an exhibit of the Dead Sea Scrolls, a copy of the Mesha Stele (see Madaba section for explanation) and four rare Iron Age sarcophagi."

Downhill from the Citadel and five minutes walk east from downtown, the Roman Theater is the most obvious and impressive relic of ancient Philadelphia. The theater, which was built during the reign of Antonius Pius (138-161 CE), is cut into the northern side of a hill that once served as a necropolis—or graveyard. It is very similar in design to the amphitheater at Jerash, and can accommodate 6000 spectators. The theater is still used periodically for sporting and cultural events

To the northeast stands the small theater, or Odeon, which is still being restored. Built at about the same time as the Roman theater, this intimate 500-seat theater is used now as it was in Roman times, for musical concerts."
http://www.virtualtourist.com/travel/Middle_East/Jordan/Amman-1800107/Things_To_Do-Amman-citadel-BR-2.html

"The Citadel's best preserved structure, the square - now domed - served as the entrance hall to the Omayyad Palace Complex. It was completed with the rest of the Omayyad buildings in the Citadel, in 720 AD, on the foundation of a Byzantine church, which gave the structure its cruciform plan. The entrance to the hall faces the Omayyad Mosque further south, though the two have different orientations as the mosque had to face the direction of Mecca. While the Palace could just as well have faced Mecca, the fact that it utilised existing foundation made it difficult. The interior of the Entrance Hall has beautifully carved stone walls and a lofty courtyard with four iwans giving it the cruciform plan.
Built by the Omayyad dynasty in 720 AD, the Palace Complex housed the governor of Amman and his entourage. The Complex included a mosque, an Entrance Hall, residential and administrative buildings and a water cistern. The mosque was located just outside the complex, and the non-religious section was accessed through the entrance hall where visitors were received. The Entrance Hall (see separate tip) is the best preserved structure in the complex. The rest lies mostly in ruins, but whose foundations are clearly visible. The entire complex lasted only a short period as destruction befell it in the 749 AD earthquake."

Political News
The news and the conversation about Palestine is in the air. The evening news from the BBC brings the brazen new of the Israeli's continued occupation and 700 new settlements in Jerusalem they declare a "special case." The special case is that the houses are on Palestinian land and it has been seized to make way for Israeli homes.

The moral outrage is seen in my new artwork that this genocide is inspiring. As Picasso spoke in Guernica, I in my way will speak. I will tell you more of the museum of Extinct Races: Special Exhibit The people who lived in the area West of the Jordan River before the Rightful Owners Returned After a two Thousand Year Absence.

The Saudis are indifferent at best and are caught between the fear that their paper lion kingdom, the so called guardianship of Mecca is only sustained by oil and patronizing the Wahhabi zealots, and that it is unwilling to do anything truly substantial to help their Palestinian "brothers." Saudis are the ultimate whores. The guardian ship of the holy sites were wasted on them. While we are there – King Hussein that dwarf of a king who so readily sold out Jerusalem to sign a peace with Israel. In this brothel of the Middle East there are no shortages of whores and pimps.

Friday, January 01, 2010

First of the new year. Drinking a bottle of champagne with an Italian couple in Petra. Celebrating – the uncertainty?

Petra:
There are hundreds of photos on my camera of Petra. The camera is bursting with Images about this astonishing jewel. I have notes on my Blackberry, while sitting against a rock, undisturbed, one grain of sand observing another. In that moment, experiencing the profound humility of a life form that will be here at the most of 80 years or so and vanish.

Petra – Trying to capture the beauty of Petra from my imagination and photographs. In the town of Wadi Mousa, Moses River, a non descript Jordanian village that depends on the hoards of tourist that descend from all over the world to capture photos of this place. Spend one day taking photos and then 1,000 days astonished.

In the unfamiliar journey, we walked through the streets of Wadi Mousa, a coffee here and there, a sweet, and a bit of conversation. My rusty Arabic getting the kinks out, finding the local words, tossing out the fragments of Egyptian, Moroccan and Yemeni colloquial phrases. They always make for good color and a smile. I told the man I learned a bit of Arabic in Yemen, he then asked, “Why do you speak Arabic with a Moroccan accent?” Hmmm, my language skills are more of a source of amusement than scholarly appreciation. I thought I had a career as an international comedian, since my linguistic skills most often seemed to make people laugh. And that is even when I am trying to communicate seriously. Fully evident last night, chatted with Danielle in Italian, a bit of French, and as we were getting drunker on some very fine champagne, I slipped back into Spanish.

On the second day driving into Petra on the Donkey Wagon and called out “My people. The revolution is near!” “Greetings my people. Your king loves you!” “L’etat cés moi!” Zoe nearly beat me! My "people"loved it.

Enjoing the jari hasan, in this broken down cart for 15 dollars. The walking was getting to us. But I always want to walk as slow as possible. in The first part of the walk into Petra must be savored very slowly. I need to get to my hand written notes


Saturday, January 02, 2010

Genocide machine
FINAL SOLUTION: Essay
MUSEUM OF EXTINCT RACES in Jerusalem:
It is extraordinary and not generally available to the public at large, but I was able to gain access to a new museum in Israel it is called the museum of Extinct Races. Though it is called a museum of Palestine, since it is sponsored by the Israel government and their policy to remove all traces of the Palestinians.

The museum of Extinct Races is actually built here on this empty lot. It is a Palestinian home that has been razed. The reason is, there was no permit to build, though the house was built around the 1920s, 25 years before the found of Israel, the Israeli official said, Ä rule is a rule, who am to argue.

Monday, January 04, 2010
Intro
The thing about travel is that it "slaps you upside your head" It gets you out of your complacency. Traveling is the "travail" cést le vive petite dur, mais pour les gent qui sont blanc y riche, vraiment cést facile. At 55 I need to compel myself to get out of this easy rut in Hillbillyboro HBB, out of the sweet order of life. I spoke earlier I had spoken of the "fear," certainly with all the crazy stuff here, and guns I do get "concerned.

When I was a child I had lived in Spain during the Franco era. When I returned after a forty year absence to Seville, I said to a man who was about a decade older, the difference is that the "fear" is absent. That was a word I didn't understand as a child or able to articulate. This is the element as I am in an unfamiliar environment trying to navigate, with my Arabic rusty, my command of local culture a bit obscure. I am thrown into Terra Incognita. I hate the loss of control and yet it is what keeps me fresh and vibrant. Don't we all? But this is the teaching of traveling, surrender your expectations, surrender your knowing, keep your wits about you, keep your powder dry, and wet your finger to find out which way the wind is blowing.

Good to travel with Zoe, easy going, rolls with the punches, good traveling common sense, we complement each other well in this regard. And, fun to be with, her 5 or so languages, and mine, with a good sense of joie de vivre and roll with the punches.
Then somewhere along the way, I get out of my strange and needed desire for control, and open up to the day.

Once I surrender the past, of home, (Hillybillyborough HBB) and Blue Heron Pond, I feel such a sense of freedom and peace. The uncertainty of the road, the sudden hidden dangers, the necessity for survival and negotiation are part of the allure of travel. Though I readily admit I am not much for exotic travels, though I have traveled on five continents, I don’t have the desire to run with wolves or trek naked across the Kalihari… but then again, negotiating with Israeli soldiers might be a challenge.

PETRA MORNING

Morning in Petra and a longing to continue in this magnificent city. As always, I am too rushed in my understanding and experience of a place. In my fantasy I imagine I can travel down here from Turkey, through Lebanon, down into Jerusalem, and into Jordan. The world undivided, open, and available to travel fluidly.

This is the sadness in 2010, the world is divided into bitter camps, nations armed to the teeth, and ready to kill each other. A short time ago it was possible to travel from West to East overland, from Europe to Turkey, Lebanon, Iraq, Afghanistan, but there was the barrier of southeast Asia.

New Years eve, sitting in the lobby of Hotel Semah, playing guitar, sedately without trying to draw attention while waiting for my equipment to charge up, and the hotel fellows wanted a song. Their knowledge of English songs was limited -- Beatles, Elvis, and finally I taught them a verse or two of "Wild Thing." A universal favorite and easy to sing. Then an Italian couple sauntered by, we chatted them up, and before too long they said, "We have a bottle of champagne." My Italian feels a bit tenuous, but I managed to make my way through with a bit of French and Spanish, surprisingly very comfortable with the Italian, and the drunker I got, the better the Italian sounded too, or at least to my ear. Good champagne in south Jordan with Italians toasting in the New Year and singing “Wild Thing” with the Egyptian hotel keepers. Wild Thing indeed.

The real challenge later in the day to come. For 70JD a ride to the King Abdullah Bridge. Jzr Malak Hussein. We get there and the taxi driver is told that only the taxis in that town can take us to the bridge. Another JD to the boarder crossing. Ooops, we didn't read the guidebook clearly, or misunderstood. Despite my best effort, we could not get across until the next day at 8: 30 am. An overnight in this little one mule town? My stubbornness is growing. Arrrgh~! This is great stuff to observe. This is the lesson of travel. In my little town, I like the control, the ease, I know the ropes, there are no surprises, a few bumps, but it is on such automatic pilot, and for the most part it works. I can concentrate on writing and creating, all the bullshit that often gets in the way of writing/ creating/ thinking is mitigated.
So we get hustled a little bit, another 30 JD which is equal to 30 pounds, damn! Then the driver tells us now it is 40 JD. We negotiate to 35JD. Then we go to Sheik Hussein Bridge.
On the way we go to the site were Jesus was Baptized by John the Baptist. We walk by the Jordan river and I don't feel an overwhelming sense of awe or praying like a Christian,"Where he walked." A dusty, hot region with lush vegetation by the river.
How much of this is the "true"location or a mere reference? Most of the New Testament was written down some 80 years and more after Christ died, and the gnostic tradition of direct knowing and faith was deemed as heresy.
We then get to another taxi spot and the taxi drivers are paid another one JD to take us to the boarder crossing two kilometers further. We get out of the taxi, process our suitcases and what not, then jump back in the taxi, another 500 meters further to the visa office. Then we purchase an exit visa. Careful to get this stamp on a separate paper, to avoid rejection in Syria at the end of the month. Then on to another bus for about a kilometer at most. Finally, we arrive in Israel.
Israel: The ogre. My ancestor’s home. The center of a lot of my attention for a long period of time. Israel with its square block letters, Israel with all of its contradictions. Ah, to be back in Israel, the homeland after all this time. What must it have been like for my ancestors? Who were my ancestors? The fact that I can locate some historical past going back two thousand years, it gives me the sense that I can knock on the door of the nearest Palestinian and say, "My ancestors were here two thousand years ago, please leave. I am sure I have some rights to your home. Yes?" Hmmm, that is the way I feel about all the expropriation of land in Palestine.
The place of immense pride with the reclaiming of this desert land? No, much of this is bullshit. The Zionist, bought, bullied, and stole some of the most prime and fertile land in the Middle East. When you read the early Zionist propaganda it makes it seems like they saved the Arabs from themselves.
Surely there were massacres and killings on both sides, but from the historical accounts it seemed like the majority of the killings from the Irgun and Stern gang, and other Zionists was pure brutal savagery. The longer story of the Palestinians betrayal by their neighbors and their leaders is better left for other books like "the Lemon Tree.
My new articles to come out of this trip are: The Genocide Project: The Museum of Extinct Races - This museum is in Jerusalem and dedicated to the memory of Palestinians: and The Final Solution.
The Sea of Galilea is absolutely lovely and serene. No sign of Jesus and the storms. Maybe his 12 homeboys had been nipping the wine? They woke up and Jesus merely said, chill out boys. I could easily see living in a place like this, but I could not live, participate in an apartheid society. Even on the most superficial level of traveling you see this as an occupied country, kept in place by the Israeli Offensive Army, an offense to humanity, an offense to any semblance of the historical humanistic Jewish tradition. and now mainly to defend Israeli settlers as they continue to settle on Palestinian land. It is impossible to separate the land, history, and present politics from the discussions.
The struggle is Hebrew, I feel as if I "älmost" understand it, it feels like a first cousin of Arabic, though the letters mystify me. I do not feel comfortable with it.
Galilea: The surrounding area with huge fields of agriculture, and of course, the irony the day laborers are Palestinians. The same Palestinians who are compelled to build the large settlement houses. Why do I get the feeling of Jews in concentration camps working to support the Nazi war effort? I can't escape the parallels between Germany and Israel.

Palestine: The Bitter Harvest
It is a hard bitter harvest like the olive trees. It grows in stony soil, dry arid conditions, produces a harvest of bitter inedible fruit, and it is only edible by soaking in a salty brine. From the stony soil this harvest grows. The Olive trees like today in Gethsemany, massive twisted olive trees, some that are hundreds to some say a thousand years old, but regardless, the trees thick with character, shaped by the wind, heat, and arid climate. Almost as if it had eyes and witnessed the hundreds of wars, the thousands of killings in the name of religion, and it soaked all that pain into its pores. The gray sinewy bark, calloused, and dead; yet, beneath it new shoots of tender life grow.

Today, in Jerusalem, we were in Gethsemany, the garden where Jesus prayed before he was betrayed. Though I am not a Christian I am moved by the story of him praying in the garden, the simplicity of offering himself to, "thine Will, will be done."

I was moved by the gardens, by the witness of the faithful, who have created and have spoken this story of Jesus. True or not true, here or at another place, it is somewhat irrelevant. This space of convocation and witness.

Integuments of Faith: Garden of Gesthemane

Vile beaty of fatih
Garnished with heresy and love.
Wicked with desire for
baraka and benediction

The whores of the Apocolpse
dance the Hava Negila
in the desert of love
a lion awaits to devour

I too have wept in Gesthemane

Not for god's love
But for the faithless lies
in the city of peace

Harlots of war
March to Armageddon

Whores of hate dressed
in prayer and praises to god

Incense of frankincense
to staunch the bleeding

Driving down from Tiberius on the sea of Galilee where Jesus "walked" on the water. I think the Apostles really needed to get a handle on their drinking, but that aside, it is a marvelous town on the edge of the sea. Beautiful climate, but no tennis. Surrounded by all the historical elements of biblical times, including ruins of the Roman city.

The journey into Hebrew is familiar because of my Arabic, but it is like listening to one of the first cousins of a romance language I don't know, but I can almost understand. I was talking to one bus driver and i felt I understood, even though I don't speak Hebrew.

JERUSALEM
Getting a taxi from Galilee and arriving at Jerusalem at 9 PM ish. Wonderful to see Quds. Quds. Uunder the stem Quds means glorification of Allah. He is Al-Mutaqaddis (The one
attaining sancity); Al-Quddus (The Most glorified) and Al-Muqaddas (The sanctified). In
Quran angles adress Allah saying (While we glorify three and sanctify three).

Consequently the word Al-Quds the purified township elevated
over defects and shortcomings.

Al-Quds is an inseparable part of the Islamic faith. In the opening of the Sura (chapter) of
Isra'a Allah says: -

"Glory to (Allah)
"Who did take the servant.
For a Journey by night.
From the sacred Mosque (of Mecca).
To the Farthest Mosque.
Whose Precincts* we did.
Bless, in order that we
Might shoro him some
Of Gur Signs. For he (Allah)
Is the one who hearth
And sees (All things)

Jaffa Gate: Bab al Khalel:
The city is one of the few intact cities from the Medieval period. The walls built in the `15th century by Sulemain the Magnificent. Of course, the walls were attacked, rebuilt, and destroyed throughout the centuries. More history in a few meters of walls than most places around the world. We arrive at the New Imperil Hotel and drag our luggage up a 25 meter stair. Then he says, “We gave your room away.”Tired and bedraggled by the day, this was the last thing I needed. But the hotel clerk arranged for another room across town, paid for the taxi and apologized profusely. Arrrgh. I was not pleased.
This is the teaching: There are 1.5 million Palestinians under lock and key in Gaza by the brutual jackboot of the Israeli Army. And I am bitching about going a few hundred meters to another hotel?
Hussein at the Rivoli Hotel was a gracious host in this run down hotel. This is in the East Jerusalem Arabic quarter outside of the old city gates.

Palestinians: East Jerusalem: Under the jackboot, but not defeated

Though I am “the Tourist” and get a lot of freebies, and people defer to me. I get by with my sometimes dodgy Arabic which is kicking off the rust. I am a white European/ US guy. I get a pass. I can speak Arabic and not consigned to the living daily hassle of a Palestinian. To live as a Palestinian in January 2010 is to be a Negro in Alabama in l945. Free but not quite free. The petty brutality and disregard for treating Palestinians as humans is apparent at every turn. 36% of the population, paying 40% of the taxes and receiving 7% of the services.
Palestine is the ghetto of our ancestors. It is Prague where Jews lived behind the walls of the old city, fearing to venture out, and tightly controlled in all phases of their lives.
Despite this. This is what I want people to see and hear.
The Palestinians I’ve met, have been unfailingly courteous, kind, thoughtful. I am sure that in time I will see more of the hard and tough side, the side that has been brutalized by the occupation that consciously and otherwise endeavors to strip away the dignity and worth of Palestinians. It is a prison defined and controlled by Israelis. Though Palestinians make walk the streets, smile, laugh, their destiny in the Israeli eyes is to be only partially human. Like the old documents of slaves who were seen as 2/3rds human.

In the old Muslim Quarter, electricity is a slipshod affair, wires and internet connections run like a madly woven spider web from outlets, jerry rigged connections, things seem worn and needing maintenance. But the maintenance is on survival. Trying to survive each day. Schools are vastly inferior, students are denied exit visas to study abroad, school supplies limited and classes are overcrowded. Yet, the Palestinians despite the obvious repression, continue to learn and thrive.
However, for the Jewish Israelis, it is education as if this was modern Europe. They have the freedom to come and go. Access to health care and state welfare.

I asked earlier, how can we, Jews who came from 2,000 years of Diaspora even imagine treating others cruelly or revisiting the horrors of Germany in the l930’s and l940’s on others. What is this mad thirsting hatred or fear the Israeli Jewish state has? There is more than enough room in the north and around the country without having to destry homes in the West Bank, without having to tear down homes, or engage in the jackboot behavior that has so come to define this phase of Israeli history.

I wish I could write about the glories of Islam, the wonders of this fabled city with a thousand stories tucked into each nook and corner of the city, the way that sunlight dashes through the narrow souks, the way that buildings have been shaped by the shifting of time, the façade of buildings colored by centuries of wear, or the magnificence of the Al Aksa or the Dome of the Rock…. I wish my entire attention could be lavished on this journey of imagination and celebration of the holy land but it can’t be. This land fought and contested, argued, and suffered for thousands of year, and now with this savage occupation this lack of humanity draws my attention.

Yet, I will write about the children playing soccer/ football in the streets, their ball bouncing off the walls of narrow streets, the pitch a cobblestone street from Roman times, and a few meters wide. The laughter of children playing something like hopscotch on cobbled streets. This is the timelessness of children. Yet, how do allow for the future?
How do we fulfill the promise that one generation gives to another?

In this sacred time, in the days and weeks to come, I will observe, listen, sit on the narrow steps, with pen and paper. Watch the green bereted army soldiers in patrols of three and six, nervously playing with the triggers, one young soldier barely eighteen with a nervous tick is tapping the trigger. Was the safety off? Other soldiers looking bored. In their boredom it seems that their favorite game is to hassle the young men. They don’t even have the formality to look them in their eyes. It seems the whole vibe I get from the scene is, “Nigger, show me your papers….Worthless nigger your papers aren’t right.” Hassle the nigger? Hassle the Palestinians?

I like the young Palestinian women, with their colorful gypsy kind of style. Unlike anything I’ve seen in other Arabic countries. Despite the presence of the Occupation they smile brightly like young women, probably gossiping about boys. There is still a brightness in their dark eyes. I like how they can dress conservatively and yet still be sexy. A demure smile with lowered eyes or a laugh as girls are walking down the street.

My Palestinian friends… the history of dictatorships is that they end. This was the story of jews in Egypt, and after years of slavery there was deliverance. Stay steadfast, don’t sell, don’t move. The world is watching and though it seems like you are alone, there are true friends who see the suffering of Palestinians and stand with you.

There needs to be true Justice in Palestine in order to have a future for Muslim, Christian and Jew.