I went to Ramallah today to attend a yoga introduction class at Farashe Yoga Center (Farashe means butterfly in Arabic). The class was great and I felt a lot better after it (I especially love the Sun greating) - and I have signed up for their introduction course the next 6 weeks.
But coming to Ramallah from Jerusalem and finding the place in Ramallah was a challange!
I knew thar the white-and-green Arabic bus no.18 goes to Ramallah, and that it goes along the main road just next to where we live. I wanted to look around Ramallah before the class, so I left home almost 3 hours before it should start. Waiting for the bus took half an hour - but I had a good audiobook and the Sun was shining. Once in the bus, the traffic soon jammed, especially around the Qalandiya check-point, were I saw several examples of "creative driving" the wrong way in the roundabout to skip some of the line. After the checkpoint the trafic was still jammed a long way, and many of my fellow passengers got of and walked, which was much faster. But they knew where they were going, I was new in the area.
Finally, after almost 1½ hours in traffic, we arrived at the bus "station" (really just a parking space) in Ramallah. I got out and was overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the city. It looked like downtown Cairo, with people and cars and busses everywhere (though no donkeys), colourful shoes and clothes and big fluffy hearts (it's soon Valentine's, or "romantic holiday" (3eid al-3ashaq) as it's called here) and food and sweets everywhere along the street, and of course trash in piles or pieces in every corner.
My Lonely Planet had described Manara Sq. (the central square in Ramallah) as a "Trafalgar Square in miniature and with a Palestinian twist, complete with columns (though no Nelson), stone lions (bearing Palestinian-flag graffiti), trafic and pidgeons", and I easily recognised the lions. And the Yoga Centre should be close to.
Now, addresses are not something commonly used in the Arab world (as far as I know), and instead of an address I had directions to find the Yoga Centre: "beside Manara Sq, opposite the police station, on the street that connects to Ein Misbah. The building's door is green, we're on the second floor." I assumed the police station would be easy to find - and was proven wrong. After some wandering around I went into a bank to ask for directions, went down the street he pointed to, and found nothing. Got back to Manara Sq, asked a cap driver, who pointed in another direction - and found the police station! But it lay on the corner of a road, so "opposite the police station" could be two directions. I went in the first, found a green door and went in. The stairs were dark, and nothing on the door on the second floor... So back again, and try the other street. And bingo! The green door was there, and there was a small, but new and clear sign on the door: "Farashe Yoga Centre". And I was even five minutes early for class!
On the way back (with the same bus and the same driver) we of course had to go through the check point - and the trafic jam around it. And going into Israel always requires more control, so most of my fellow passengers got of the bus to walk through all the checks inside the check-point, while the few privilegded of us with the proper papers could stay in the bus. Two soldiers got in, with each their machine gun, one to check the vehicle, the other to check our papers. But they wished the driver "aHla leila" (good evening) and smiled as they left - they're just doing their job... We picked up the other passengers again, and off we were to Jerusalem. With one more slight delay when the Light Rail Train drove lazily across an intersection in its testing mode.
I was a bit tired of waiting and delays and checks after all this; almost three hours to go to Ramallah and one going back, for 1½ hours of yoga practise... But I can go back to Denmark - the Palestinians are living in this.
