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I meet Shehada at his home early in the morning and we set off with his friend and neighbour, Isa, in the direction of Hebron, the West Bank’s largest city. It should by rights be a half-hour drive: Hebron is
I return to Ramallah from Taybeh, beer and wine in tow, to find Shehada, the Palestinian violin maker from bus 18, waiting for me outside the Al-Wehdeh hotel. He is here to take me to his home in the Old
The most famous section of the Israeli-West Bank separation barrier is also the shortest: the eight feet tall concrete slabs festooned with anti-Zionist graffiti, the vast majority of it written, somewhat tellingly, in languages other than Arabic, make up only
Reuven Shalev is round, balding and deeply fascinating: one of those voices that betray the complexity of the Arab-Israeli conflict, that hint at a too often unreported-upon willingness to compromise and a tendency towards self-criticism, and that at least tilt
At the bottom end of Metula’s HaRishonim Street, where old men on tractors cart fruit into Israel’s northernmost building and boxes of fruit out of it again, Hadar Sela and I stand leaning on the yellow fence that opens out onto the
Israel knew I was coming. Within seconds of disembarking Aegean flight 928 from Athens to Tel Aviv, on the darkened tarmac between the boarding stairs and the terminal shuttle bus, I find myself beset by one of Ben Gurion International’s
The first thing that strikes you about Jerusalem is its specificity. Tel Aviv could be almost any beachside city in the world. It reminded me of Surfers Paradise, or a toned-down version of Venice Beach, while the guidebooks all seemed to