Letter from Israel ( November 2013)

             The heavily decorated section of the security wall, right of Bethlehem, West Bank 

Since August I had few nostalgic days around my old stomping ground, Cornwall and also found my self walking on ‘the not so cobble paved streets’ of Yorkshire in early November. However this letter is from Israel a place I had planed to visit in 2002 (the year my husband passed away) and finally had time and money to make a very expensive journey in November 2013.

 What a journey it was! All the way to Jesus’ stomping ground where my husband would loved to have been but I had to settle with the second best to keep me company, his memory! The journey was only for seven days and seven nights however I came home with head full of new experience with lots of questions unanswered. The tour guide, an Israeli Palestinian Arab knew his subject and the history of three major religions of his country (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) were brought to life every day as I travelled with a group of 15 from the West. The guide followed the Pilgrimage route starting from Tel Aviv and quickly moved on to the old port of Jaffa and then on to Druze village for a home cooked lunch with a Druze family (followers of interesting philosophy!).

 

 

We travelled to see Roman ruins of Caesarea, then to Akko, Nazareth, Safed city of spiritualists and artists. Travelling dangerously and avoiding the minefields on the way, we stopped at Golan Heights (disputed area) for photo snaps of Syria which looked green and pleasant from the border but still undergoing a bloody war somewhere beyond the border line. Another short stop at Jordan River for a holy dip (for few but not for me) and then off to Tiberias for the night. Boat ride in the Sea of Galilee reminded me of lots of loaves, fish and walking on water miracles by Christ. Living dangerously again and travelling on the almost deserted Jordan Valley Road to Masada and then to the Dead Sea to watch people floating! (Having spent money on mud packs I discovered later that the Dead Sea is fast losing its lustre due to the removal of mud for beauty products… sad, sad,  sad……). For desperately needed pee stop (W.C. in Israel) the driver had to make big U turn and introduce the group to the deserted Palestinian town of Jericho, the oldest continuously inhabited place on earth.

 

A visit to Holocaust Museum, reminded me of black and white world war movies at home. A visit to Bethlehem where the Star was born and the Palestinian refugee camp behind the gigantic Security Wall separating the West Bank (where Banksy and others made their Graffiti marks) were all very short but emotional. The final day in East Jerusalem was spent exploring the inside of the Old Jerusalem Wall: the Temple Mount (highly contested land mark on the planet and has its’ own security check where Christians are not allowed in.. sad.. sad.. sad), Wailing Wall (open to all), The Church of Holy Sepulchre (where Christians meet from all over the world) and the rest of The Holy, Holy, Holy sights…all well protected by CCTV systems. Israel being the world leader in CCTV system I was well protected ?

 

Would I go again or better still recommend the trip to my friends? Not really and here are some of my reasons. Israel has some of the most stringent security polices in the world and I should really feel safe, I did not! When boarding the plane from Amsterdam, I had to answer some silly questions such as “do I know any body in Israel” (yes I did have 2 friends in Israel but did not confess, what would happen to me if I said Yes, I shall never know?) and “why am I going there anyway” (I thought that was pretty obvious?). Once I landed at the airport in Tel-Aviv at 2 am, I was interrogated again with same questions; luck was on my side I escaped a full interrogation in a little room! (Some of my fellow travellers did not). So the start of the journey was a bit unpleasant but it did not get better as I and the rest were reminded all the time by the guide to be ready for any questions about our travels at various Israeli check-points. When we were on the road to the Palestinian town of Jericho we stopped at a road sign and were encouraged to take photos (see below) and our guide pointed out that the road was not safe for the tourists like us, he was not joking!! (Kidnapping immediately came to my mind!).

 

You would think that the Israel would be glad to get rid of you once you had finished your holiday and spent your well earned money to help the economy, but the answer is “NO”. They make sure you go through some more check points leading to the Tel-Aviv airport and once you are at the airport (which looked pretty deserted Friday afternoon, who in the right mind wants to go on holiday to Israel anyway?) you end up having to answer more stupid questions such as "what is your father’s name, what is your mother’s name what is your sibling’s names etc…".and if you are unlucky your luggage is opened and each item is examined by young kids with plastic gloves who are employed to do their national service at the air port. Luck was on my side again, I escaped another Spanish inquisition and luggage examination which was taking place out in the open area of the air port for everybody to watch! (How embarrassing, imagine all my dirty laundry out for public display ……)   

 Israel is very fussy about who is allowed into their well protected Fort Knox heavily guarded country. If I had a passport with entry stamp from Islamic country such as Saudi Arabia or Bangladesh the chances are that I would have been sent home. Again luck was on my side; my 10 years passport was renewed, just before my travel to Israel (my old passport carried lots of Bangladeshi visa entries). On arrival at Tel-Aviv airport I was given Entry Permit (a little paper slip) and at the point of leaving the country, I was given an Exit Permit (another paper slip) thus avoiding stamping the tourist passport like mine. This is to ensure that I and other tourists like me can travel to any Islamic country without being turned away by them, such as Bangladesh. (I guess?).  

 

 Security aside,  which was unnerving, I felt that the whole of The Holy land is made to look like one big theme park and in return for few New Israeli shekels the tourists are encouraged to take photos. As a non believer of religions on show I felt uncomfortable taking photos of sacred places where prayers were said (I came home with 500 photos… shame, shame, shame on me). Believe it or not, in the Land of Milk and Honey, water is like gold dust. Israel buys its bottled water from abroad and it is cheaper to drink water from a plastic bottle. There are massive big bottle banks every where. One water expert I met at the airport pointed out that Israel will run out of water by 2020 and some experts have forecasted the next world war, if it takes place, will be over water, scary!

 

We all know that the tiny state of The Holy Land has been trying to find peace for over 60 years. There is a Peace Centre in the heart of Bethlehem, near the Nativity Churches and people come from all over the world, including some from my city of Coventry (Coventry is a city of Peace and Reconciliation) to spread the Message of Peace. The final message I brought back with me is the writing I found on the side wall of the Peace Centre:   

 

 This year Kenya was celebrating 50 years of Independence and fifty years ago I and my family were kicked out of Kenya and we landed in England with our British passports and found new home. My British upbringing spiced up with Indian and African background gave me freedom to travel with my passport and experience through my own eyes the wonders of this magical planet I live in. I hope the similar freedom will reach the home of one young Palestinian student I met in Bethlehem and many more like her. She told me she was studying English at Bethlehem University and she told me she wanted to travel……...........she told me …………….

 

 

Finally, I feel I have now reached the end of fifty years of my travel blog. I have written approx. 65000 words and so far received approx.3000 page reviews from across the world!! I like to thank all the comments (made privately) by family and my friends… with that in mind I might just start another blog:  “travellingwithabuspass.com”, so watch this space?

Post card from Great Shoddesden ( Hampshire) August 2013

Farm in Great Shoddesden

The visits to beautiful Great Shoddesden for my annual pilgrimage, a retreat to the country side are a pleasant distraction for me from the city life. Since my last visit in September 2012 the country side surrounding my place of stay had not changed at all and I guess the country side rarely show any dramatic changes in its landscape over a short period of time. However this time in  August I was pleased that  the barren farm land which  I could see from my bedroom window last year  was  full of beautiful yellow fields ready for harvest. I got there just in time with my camera for photos as the combine harvester was waiting in the wings to do its job.

 The county of Hampshire is popular place where The Ministry of Defence (MOD) has their bases at place like Andover and Tidworth and great deal of army training is carried out in and around the county. Tidworth, the town not very from Great Shoddesden has a small convenience store run by the Nepalese for the Ghurkha people serving in the army. Every time I visit this incredibly beautiful county with its thatched roof cottages and ever green fields, I often feel out of place as I have never bumped into any one from ethic background. My visits to Great Shoddesden always remind me that this green and pleasant land is “for ever England”, for the true blue English breed! I cannot see our Government, ever sending any asylum seekers or the refugees to places around Hampshire. After my few days of stay in Great Shoddesden, I am always pleased to be homeward bound; being “sent to Coventry” is in fact a joy for me to hear because I live in Coventry amongst people from different ethnic back grounds, recently large number of refugees and asylum seekers.

 The scenic route from Great Shoddesden through Dorset to sea side resort of Poole leads to the Island of Brownsea, which is managed by National Trust. The Brownsea Island is rich in wildlife and has been made famous by Lord Baden-Powell who started the scouts and guides movement over a century ago and it has spread world wide. Driving back from Poole via Sandbank away from busy sea side resort of Bournemouth was worth the visit to the lovely little village of Great Shoddesden.       

 P.S. I have brought myself up date with writing my blog sooner then I thought I would and I  have until April 2014 to complete what I started, that is my fifty years in England, using travel theme and my 7000 photographs to help me write this blog. Though I am slowing down and enjoying my life walking to the end of my garden ( take note those who think I am never at home) I have few more trips on mind and hope I shall be able to make them to take me to the end of my blog period. I will continue to write this blog at Xmas time, perhaps on Xmas day, that would a novel way to avoid the festive day? So do look out for this space, for some more of my traveller's tale after the festive season is over!

 

 

Post card from London, July 2013

Camden Market in Camden Town, London

London, beautiful city of London, the great capital of England was my home for a short time and I visit the city almost every year to watch the crowd, visit art galleries and meet old friends. This year because I have been writing this blog since May and remembering my past and getting very emotional writing about it, I had this sudden desire to visit my old haunts, yet again, this time with a camera in tow. So off I went for three days adventure down the memory lane. Starting with a walk from St Margaret’s station to my old flat, in St. Margaret’s (Twickenham). No answer from the knock on my old flat number 4, instead I had a chat with the couple in the big house below my old flat, took pictures of them for memories, because memories are made of photos. I then walked to the Richmond Lock and stood at the bridge thinking about all the private letters (38) I sunk to the bottom of river Thames, with a brick in a plastic bag, polluting the river with my anger! Memories are made in writing too! Caught a train from Richmond to Kew where I lived in No. 28 Cambridge cottage, within walking distance from the botanical Kew Gardens. Then the garden’s entry fee was one whole penny! Now it is £16/£14. I then caught a red London bus number 65 all the way to Ealing leading to Madeley Road where I shacked up in a bedsit for few weeks without the landlord’s knowledge! Memories are made of lots of odd bits and pieces!

 The highlight of my trip to London was of course down the memory lane however I added some more photos to my ever increasing file of memories now stored on my computer. A long train ride to  see the Olympic Park was disappointment because I was not allowed in but I was able to take photos of the sculpture Orbit by Anish Kapoor, from the view observation platform situated outside on the road side. Then,  after few tubes ride away I landed myself  near the Tate Modern and over the wobbly bridge ( my brother-in-law had a hand in building it) which gave me a chance to view and photo the newly built skyscraper The Shard. My final resting place after travelling around London’s concert jungle was in Camden Town Market, incredibly vibrant with life and colour. I loved being there, if only for few hours.

Post card from Caldey Island ( Pembrokeshire) April 2013

Caldey Island

Another year and another special date to remind myself that I am getting older. Fifty years ago in 1963, Martin Luther King had a dream for his people; it was also the year when I landed in England with my mum and two sisters to start our new life full of our very own dreams. I followed lots of mine, some of them turned into nightmare, some impossible made possible and most just boring old dreams, sharing day to day dream life with the rest of the human race on this planet. However 24th April 2013 on Caldey island I felt I was all alone on one of my desert Island dreams, it only lasted for a short time though and it was nothing like the desert island Lucy Irvine (writer of her book “Castaway”) went to when she answered the advertisement for “writer seeks wife for a year on a tropical Island….”  

 Caldey Island lies three miles from Tenby harbour and has a population of mere 25 of which 12 are monks. It is a private island owned by Reformed Cistercian Order and is entirely self sufficient. The monks farm the land, milk the cows, start praying for the world peace and the rest from 3.45 am and have set up enterprise schemes such as making perfumes, toiletries and chocolates to sell to the tourist. There is bird life, sea life and lot of woodland kept in pristine condition to get away from the crowd of tourists. The few vehicles allowed on the island are used for transporting goods and people from the jetty. The local boatmen ferry tourists and Islanders to and from the mainland town of Tenby.

 

My short stay in a house next to the lighthouse, up the one and only road in the village will never be repeated again because real dreams come into life only once and I have lived to tell my tale. Furthermore the number of men who wants to become Monks is in decline and the idyllic life I had experienced and those who still live it on the Island will die sooner rather then later; sad but true!

 

 

Post card from Eatbourne ( East Sussex ) 2012

Stormy sea in Brighton

I was in Eastbourne in the summer of 1976 for two weeks workshop set up my employer. The sandy sea, (the English Channel) of Eastbourne was on its best behaviour then and I remember taking lots of evening walks on the beach. Well it was summer time then.  However in December 2012 the sea decided to behave so, so badly, the mighty wind joined in and the rain decided to throw in its towel too that all three nature’s forces became a melting pot for one of the worst winter Eastbourne by the sea had suffered for a long, long time. I was there for three days to witness the whole drama unfold. 

 Eastbourne is not very far from the Beachy Head, another landmark under going through the same treatment, where the trees could not stand straight and if I got any where near the edge of the rolling hill of Beachy Head I would have been blown away to the bottom of the hill in to the sea, I mean the English Channel. The beautiful seaside resort of Brighton down the road was not spared either and few mad people playing Russian roulette with the never ending mighty waves coming in and out at intervals were having fun?

 There was a good side to my stormy experience, the expert say that sea air is good for us human kind and I felt it helped me to get rid of some of  my cob webs I had accumulated for the past eighteen months. During the last 18 months, my two brothers (in the photo below which I used for my first publish blog) had left this beautiful planet of mine. They are being missed by their two sisters and me, always.

Post card from Belfast ( Northern Ireland) Nov. 2012

Europa hotel in Belfast

Life is slowing me down but I found a reason for going abroad again this time to Belfast, not very far but still over the sea to another not so foreign land. The beautiful city of Belfast torn by war was also the place my husband went for his business. Last time I got any where near Belfast was in 1995 when I and my husband caught a train from Dublin to Belfast and stayed inside the Belfast train station to meet my husband’s friend. All throughout the troubled times my husband often use to tell me that he stayed in the most bombed hotel in the world during his business trips: The Europa, five star hotel in Belfast. I went to see The Europa. Though the title has been taken away by a hotel in Beirut (my host in Belfast told me, but Wikipedia disagree), my visit to the hotel and in fact to the rest of the city was very interesting. With a helping hand from my host (5W member) we travelled via the train to the city centre. The train station I was in 1995 had a good face lift but I could not but notice that there were lots of sad looking faces travelling through it. The hotel Europa had been given a face lift too and seemed it never went through any bad times, it was business as usual.

The city of Belfast is small, beautiful and had undergone considerable expansion and regeneration around the main Victoria square with lots of interesting architecture to admire. The city main shipping industry well known for building RMS Titanic is now part of history in newly built Titanic Exhibition Centre in the heart of Belfast. The Giant Causeway just outside the city is another extraordinary sight to visit along a deserted rocky coastline. Sadly, Belfast has not shaken off its past and the visitors to this beautiful city and its landscapes are very few. When I was there in November during the start of the festive season (Xmas market and lights etc..)  trouble started in the centre of the town over the use of the British flag and I was lucky to escape the horror which followed my departure from the city. I saw it all unfolding, minute by minute on my TV at home. 

Post card from great Shoddesden ( Hampshire) Sept. 2012

Farmers land in Great Shoddesden

Beautiful, beautiful Hampshire has become my retreat since a friend moved to little village called Great Shoddesden in 2011(I can’t even pronounce the name but I get there somehow). There is also a Little Shoddesden next door to the Great one but I am pleased that I have chance to visit the Great Shoddesden! It is in idyllic surroundings with farm land all around and horses for those who like breeding them! I remember once listening to one of my favourite artist, Grayson Perry who remarked that the artists who paint country side, invariably paint the true picture of the countryside with cars, trucks, farmer’s machineries, and a room with an ugly view. These things are all there as part of the country scene but not shown in beautiful painted picture. This time around I went to Great Shoddesden equipped with a camera and took photos of the good and the very good country side and then not so good and very ugly sights which I am sure we, the city people can not remotely link it with living “the country dream!” In my friend’s cottage if I forget to close the door leading to the outside beautiful country life , the cottage would be invaded by rats, yes there are lots of rats in the countryside too. The country side smell is what town people dream of but I have yet to experience the real country side smell. Whilst I was there I heard a local farmer was asked not to use pig slurry during the time when a wedding party had their guests arriving in the neighbouring country home! 

 Anyway, Hampshire is still one of the most beautiful county in England, farming land, thatched cottages, lots of country pubs still opened for business and horses to show off to the kids, beautiful  city of Salisbury and Winchester not out of reach, New Forest to drive to and the sea life in the quirky places like Bucker’s Head, all can be found with in driving distance from Great Shoddesden.

 

Great place for retreat, I desperately needed it, if only for few days.