Goodbye 2019

Tuesday, December 31st

7 am. We slept well last night and had a small breakfast in the cozy room with a fireplace, while the sun was already shining from outside. We cuddle with Diesel one more time, say goodbye to Chris, leave our big luggage at the reception and start walking. Our destination: first the Arafat Museum, then Anas' father's tailor shop. Anas instructed us to say 'Hi' to him since we are in Ramallah. Once again, we accidentally walk in the wrong direction and eventually have to ask passersby for directions when we realize that we are very close to the tailor shop. So we decide to go there first before visiting the Arafat Museum.

Surprisingly, we actually stand in front of the shop that Anas described to us without knowing the exact address. The name of the tailor shop is correct, so we enter and look around, searching for an older man. However, we only see a younger man busy with his sewing machine in the background, and a young woman looking at us curiously. We ask her if she speaks English. 'Of course!'. Great. We ask her if she knows an Anas. 'Yeah, I'm his sister!' Wonderful!

It turns out that we are dealing with Noor here, Anas' sister. When she laughs, the resemblance to Anas is unmistakable. We explain to her how we are connected to Anas, and she is very happy to see us. She tells us that her father is out today. Only she and her cousin are here in the shop. Noor is super nice and offers us a cup of tea first. She then tells us about all the places she has already lived with her husband, including several years in Belgium, and how much she missed her hometown Ramallah. Now they are back here and she is undergoing training to become a tailor. Her self-made bags, which she sells here in the shop, are really beautiful, and we immediately buy two of them from her. She tells us that the next time we are in Ramallah, she will invite us to her home and cook for us.

We are so engrossed in the nice conversation that we don't even notice how quickly time flies - it's too late to visit the museum now. So we say goodbye to Noor and hurry back to the hostel, where we pick up our luggage and then head back to the bus stop. It's really a shame to have to rush here now. But we want to be back in Amman tonight for New Year's Eve. But I will come back. Definitely.

The bus is much emptier than on the way there when we start driving. We stop at the checkpoint that separates the West Bank from Israel. A heavily armed young soldier and her colleague get on board and now check the passports. I see the Palestinian woman in front of me handing them a crumpled A4 sheet, which seems to be her ID. I don't understand most of what the two of them say to her, but I understand that they are harsh and unfriendly. After a short discussion, the patrol continues. They approach the next passenger, an old man with a crutch. Again, I don't understand what the problem is, but I understand that he has to get off. Laboriously, he extricates himself from his row of seats and limps slowly down the aisle to the rear bus exit, while the armed soldiers watch him. This man is obviously not allowed to leave the West Bank. We are next. The soldier briefly glances at our German passports and then continues, without even having held our passports once. How unfair and cruel this world is. I can't say it often enough.

Without any further incidents, we reach Jerusalem again, where we have enough time to leave our luggage at the bus station and go back to the Old City one more time. We get some last souvenirs, meet Sophia's parents, have a Shawarma sandwich and then take a mini-bus back to the border with Jordan. Our Palestinian driver tells us where the Israeli settlements are located here (mostly on the hilltops) and where the wall runs that separates the Israeli from the Palestinian areas. Then, in the middle of the highway, there is a driver change: our driver swaps with the driver of an oncoming minibus who then takes us straight to the border.

Contrary to our expectations, everything goes smoothly here again: without any questioning or baggage checks, we only have to pay the Israeli exit fee and then we can take a taxi to Amman. The taxi is big enough that even with 5 people we still have enough space inside, and the driver is very entertaining, so we arrive back at the 2nd Circle in a good mood about an hour later. Here, Hanni and I say goodbye and walk back to the apartment, where Rebecca and Lea have already prepared everything for the New Year's Eve celebration.

At midnight, we toast on the rooftop terrace and watch exactly one fireworks rocket. Surprising, but definitely in a positive way. While the rest of the party continues, Hanni and I go to bed. We spontaneously decided to go to Petra for the next two days, so we have to get up early tomorrow.