Everything here is holy, every mountain is named in my Bible. This is the promised land. I was warned that this place might not bring me any closer to my faith, that it might wreck what I had instead of strengthening it as so many of the faithful hope for when they come to Israel and Palestine.

This weekend I made a pilgrimage of sorts to an organic farm that sits precariously on the edge of Bethlehem. Comfortably and entirely in Area C which is under full Israeli control still. I was drawn there when my colleague, our dreamy eyed art teacher, told me about a farm where I could camp. As a girl who has grown up in jungles and deserts and around campfires in every imaginable corner of the earth- I was very interested.

I adore my city with it's hilly roads and bustling souk but I was ready to get out into nature. It's a tricky thing with land so divided, settled and tightly controlled.
So, on Thursday I made my way up to the station where I could pick up a three row minivan-like taxi which would take me to Ramallah. The drive to Ramallah is lovely, winding and devoid of too many checkpoints. It is my favorite drive here, I can be so distracted by the scenery I don't notice the countless close calls we have with oncoming traffic, which is really something.

Once in Ramallah, I grabbed a Brazilian soda (hello nostalgia) and walked up to the station there. There were about 5 times more people going to Beit Lahem than there were taxis. After 45 minutes of nursing my Guarana I talk my way into a car whose driver has just returned and is charging us all 5 shekels extra to make the trip. We grudgingly give in, it'll be evening soon and I'm not trying to make this trip in the dark thankyouverymuch. The trip started out normally enough, but a sudden stop in traffic and an ominous message on the walkie talkie and we were off roading it. There was a checkpoint up ahead, so we careened precariously up above the highway on dirt roads. Occasionally the driver would jump out, cursing under his breath to move rocks or goats from the roadway.
This particular detour lets out at the entrance to a settlement. We tried to blend in with the outgoing traffic which won't be stopped by soldiers. Everyone stares, we were the only non settler car on the road.


After another checkpoint, a spectacular wadi and an hour of driving we arrive in Bethlehem and I find a local cab to get me out to Area C and Hosh Yasmin. The sun is setting. I arrive just in time.

Hosh Yasmin is heaven on earth. She sits on a hill overlooking a valley. There's a city in the distance I honestly don't know whether it's Ramallah or Jerusalem. It's all so close. The farm feels like it's a million miles from everything despite the fact that I can see the massive wall, and I noticed that strangely, I was on the other side of it. Not the side with houses and mosques but the....other one.
The building here has been threatened by bulldozers multiple times but it's pre 1948 so Mazan the owner has been able to run this place and keep it open to Israelis and Palestinians.


I dropped my backpack in my tent and ordered
 dinner- the food here is legendary. Farm to table is a common enough concept here, but this stuff is organic. I order a lamb dish  and hummus. The lamb reminds me of my mother's pot roast. It tastes familiar and yet so new. It's heaven.
After dinner, homemade Arak- a liquor common throughout the levant, Turkey and Greece in different forms and with different names. We don't drink at all in Nablus- it's a dry town. I
drank very, very slowly.








The next morning I woke up at 6am and strapped on my backpack. I was determined to walk to the Church of the Nativity and get out of town before the crowds bear down on Bethelem. I walked for an hour and a half, though what must have been an Israeli neighborhood and past a massive sign warning me I'm entering Area A and outlining the illegality of this crossing for Israeli citizens.

 

Waking up in my tent!

Olives at Hosh Yasmin

You know it, it's a tourist destination in it's own right. Great street artists have emblazoned it with their work alongside the rough spray paint scrawls of whomever gets close enough. I stroll past the wall, stopping to take in it's sheer size only for a minute before turning back to my mission.