Alejandro and I coincidentally had similar schedules that lead us both back from Petra to Amman at the same time. The next morning he was supposed to head to Israel, while I was scheduled to fly back to Cairo. I was a bit nervous about heading back to Egypt, especially since every local in Petra was warning against it. The news was still portraying a violent and chaotic image of Tahrir square. Though I'm sure it was more contained than how it appeared, I didn't want to take the risk of getting caught up in any political unrest, especially traveling by myself. Fine. I will actually admit it. It was difficult to be a foreign woman in Cairo. I hate recognizing that my gender can, in some ways, impede my ability to travel.
So a few hours before my flight's scheduled departure I made the decision to follow Alejandro to Israel instead. I had a friend there also, who I planned on convincing to come travel Egypt with me in the next week anyway.
We set off the next morning to cross the King Houssein Bridge a.k.a. the Allenby bridge that runs near Amman into the West Bank. The word bridge in this sense is really misleading. After hours of waiting on the Jordanian side, we finally boarded a bus to cross the alleged bridge, which was actually a span of road designed to look like a bridge that could probably be walked across in less than 30 secs. If you blinked, you would miss it.
Though 3 hours had passed since we left our hotel, we were only halfway through the border crossing process. It took 3 more hours, several more lines, and multiple interrogations before we finally made it across the border! From there we hitched a bus to Jerusalem, where we maneuvered are way through the maze like streets of the Old City to our hostel.
It may be blasphemy to say, but I was not exactly excitited about being In Jerusalem. Last year I was privileged to make a most memorable tour through the region with an amazing group of people. The trip changed my life and ultimately set me on a path that has led me to this trip now. However, it also was a reminder of how much has changed. I wasn't exactly prepared to deal with that. This might seem counter-intuitive especially since I am scheduled to attend University at Tel Aviv starting in October. It's not. The two cities, though in the same country, are worlds apart. And while I was in Jerusalem, I couldn't shake this feeling that of discontentment in that I wasn't supposed to be there....yet.
Jerusalem is a city that seems to carry heavy emotions from anyone who has spent time there. The heaviness was almost debilitating as I walked by a police station with my friend. "That's where they beat Aziz's (a friend of ours) brother to death. With the oppressing tension that hangs in the air of the city, I spent most of my time in Jerusalem feeling like a rat in a cage.
On our way out of the West Bank, we had to disembark the bus in order to walk through the check point. Never in my life have I been made to feel like such an animal, being herded from one "stall" to the next, waiting in line, passing through gates that immediately locked behind us into other gated corridors. It was quite an interesting experience to say the least.
Ultimately, Jerusalem was filled with nostalgia for me, as it is for most people, but after a few days I was thankful to make plans that took me out of the city.