A Nabulsi Story

The End

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 21:34:00 +0000

... and so the time has come. To say goodbye to Palestine and to this blog.

It's difficult knowing what to say. Impossible to sum up the past two years in one entry. Suffice to say coming here has been the best decision I've ever made and the the time I spent here a gift.

I don't know what's in store for Palestine or the ever meandering Peace Process. What the future holds for the people who touched me, the children who became mine or, eventually, their children.

I leave it much the same as I found it. Despairing on the verge of hope and full of a life that is teetering on the edge of collapse.

For everyone who has followed these stories, thank you. I wanted to show a side of Palestine that we don't often get to see. The humanity of it, the beauty of it and its relentless grip on life.

It is way beyond me to do it the justice it deserves, but I feel lucky to have been given the chance to give it a go.

Chapter 123 Yaffa

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Mon, 25 Jun 2012 06:31:00 +0000

It was in Yaffa that it hit home. Yaffa, that last bastion of Arabness; a remaining pocket of cultural survival.

Yaffa, bride of the sea.

A stunning coastline. Yet generic, potentially belonging anywhere. It made me quiet, drawing closer within myself.

Well tended parks and synthetic bridges supported teenage feet, their owners yelling out to each other in Hebrew and laughing. Alongside expensive, modern looking villas with barbeques on the terraces we strolled. Bland, contemporary architecture housing the rich who ‘summer’.

The ocean, the same ocean that crashes with intention onto the shores of Beirut, flowed under the piers. A boulevard of burger places and trendy restaurants framed the dark skinned fisherman who sat weaving nets on the wooden walkways.

The panorama of condos pushed me further into myself. And the more mono syllabic I became.

Finally my companion became frustrated and demanded an explanation to my sullenness.

I turned to him, exasperated yet mute.

Gesturing with my hands yet unable to fill them with words. Lump in throat, I swiped angrily at the unexpected tears that had begun streaming down my face. Then buried my face in my hands... it came pouring out.

“It’s gone. They’ve taken it. They’ve taken all of it. This is the most beautiful part, here on the sea – here where the wind blows. Where are we here? Where are we? Nowhere? Living in shacks and poverty in the city’s underbelly? Pushed underneath the rug of this picture perfection?”

Where was our history? Where was the proof of our existence here?

Gone. As if it had never been.

This same ocean that embraced me only a few miles north of where I stood, rejected me there and was no longer mine. The ocean that involves humiliating checkpoints and long hours of waiting to visit; an ocean that many born to it can only dream of its touch.

This blog was always meant to be about Palestine.

Not my feelings about it; which are wholly insignificant in the face of its reality.

I wanted this blog to be something that showed a new and unexplored side of Palestine. I stayed away from the politics or describing the same images the world has seen a million times. I wanted to paint a new picture. Show an equally important side, tragically neglected.

But it was in Yaffa that it hit home for me. And it hurt.

Chapter 122 Nablus circa 1890

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sat, 23 Jun 2012 00:20:00 +0000

Chapter 121 Battir

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Tue, 19 Jun 2012 08:26:00 +0000

Chapter 120 He played the oud

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Thu, 07 Jun 2012 11:44:00 +0000

As his fingers rippled across the strings, all watching were transported to a candle lit night wrapped in a balmy breeze.

The notes floated away, each tripping over the previous as it caught up with it.

He looked up from the instrument towards the door of his dirty little old city workshop, distant contentment in his eyes. The grind of life slid off their shoulders, defeated in the face of the peaceful strength of his music.

“I was working as a nurse in Saudi Arabia when I finally gave in to the desire to come back to my country and pursue this, what had always been a hobby and latent talent for me.”

A beautiful old oud, fallen into disuse and disrepair, was the start. “Nobody could fix it and I decided I would do it, one way or another. Over time, I learned all the tricks and secrets to making ouds.”

Now his ouds sell for up to 5000 shekels (approximately €1,000).

A good oud takes up to three months to make and the better the type of wood, the more expensive it will be. A slow, painstaking process of sanding, conditioning, shaping and tuning creates the instrument that produces such stunningly emotive music.

His hand slid over the curve of the rosewood oud. “They are like my children, I love all of them.”

Wood is sourced from woods such as ebony, mahogany and rosewood. They are first dried and cut into strips. The wood is then soaked and softened, it is cut into strips and placed on this heating mechanism to create the bend needed for the curved base of the oud

The skeleton the curved pieces of wood are placed upon to build the rounded base of the instrument

Making a base

A completed base, ready to removed from the skeleton and have a sound board attached

A oud with a sound board, yet to be strung

Ready for varnishing and finishing


Completed ouds

He plays - he forgets where he is

Ali Hassenin can be contacted via mobile on ‎00972599876567 or by email at z.oud@hotmail.com

Chapter 119 The hike to end all hikes

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Mon, 04 Jun 2012 10:18:00 +0000

Nablus to Taybeh:

Approximately 45 km over two days. Let me see if I remember the series of villages we went through.

Nablus to Awarta

Through the mountains from Awarta to Aqraba. In a huge stroke of luck we ran across a guide whose knowledge of the mountains trails saved us a good few hours in lost wanderings.

Aqraba to a Dora - a street lined with houses where the kindly shop keeper shook his head in astonishment as he let us refill our water bottles.

'But why do you want to walk all this way? You know there's a bus yes?'

We left Dora and started the long walk down the mountains and down down down to Ain Samia. A place of wonder with full springs where our 14 hour first day walk would surely culminate with us cooling our feet in the clear water.

Unfortunately the spring had dried up the week before (what're you gonna do?) and we collapsed on a flat topped hill and set up camp before day two.

An uneventful night, barring an ambush by Israeli IDF soldiers who had seen our fire from the road. They took our passports and we all stood around awkwardly while they seemingly struggled to find any sort of justification for their intrusion.

The next day we walked back up a mountain to Kafr Kana and crossed over to the other side and down to Taybeh.

I'm not going to wax lyrical about the landscape as I've done that many a time but there are, as always, pictures :)

Enjoy.

Chapter 118 Taybeh

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Fri, 01 Jun 2012 19:36:00 +0000

One of my first West Bank discoveries was Palestinian Oktoberfest.

Held in a tiny Christian village called Taybeh, the festival serves as a platform to sellers of Palestinian products from all around the area, helping them to sell and promote their wares.

The star of the festival is, of course, beer. Taybeh beer in fact. The Taybeh (meaning delicious) brewery is the only one in Palestine and serves up a genuinely delicious line of brews.

The factory is small but in stellar condition. It is efficiently run by the khoury family and currently managed by Madees Khoury - educated abroad, giving back at home - an impressive young lady who is serious about her work as a brewer.

The factory is worth visiting and looks very cool. There's also great Taybeh posters. Pictures below for you:

Chapter 117 Forbidden

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Wed, 30 May 2012 19:56:00 +0000

I’m not going to lie, Cremisan wine is not great wine.

Palestinian olive oil is second to none, but the wine; it’s not great.

I mean, it’s not terrible wine either.

It’s probably closer to terrible then great. It is, however, wine. And it’s cheap. And easy for us to get.

And it’s produced by Salesian monks at a picturesque old monastery in the West Bank, standing just outside of Bethlehem, bordering the West Bank and Jerusalem.

Now, that’s pretty cool.

They’re not incredibly friendly, the monks.

To be fair we only met the one. He was terse. In a stoic, European kind of way.

“Hi, we’ve heard we can get a tour of the winery?”

“No.”

“Oh… ummmm are you sure? Cause I heard that you guys do that.”

Crosses arms

“No.”

“Oh… well we came all this way.”

“It is forbidden. You can buy wine from the shop.”

He leads us to the shop and bends down to enter. He stands behind the cash register and regards us with blue eyes as we wander around awkwardly.

“Wow I didn’t know there were so many different kinds of Cremisan wines…”

Blank stare.

“So… how long have you been making wine.”

“1885.”

“And who actually makes it?”

“He is Italian, he helps us.”

“Oh… ok. So… just him then?”

Blank stare.

“Ummmm… so this is really lovely. Can we maybe walk around a little and see the gardens and the vineyard?”

“No.”

“Uh-huh… so just the shop then?”

blank stare.

“Ummm… any reason why?”

“It is forbidden.”

Well you just can't argue with that now can you?

Chaper 116 A whiter shade of brown

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Tue, 29 May 2012 11:42:00 +0000

source

Fair and lovely.

Lovely and fair.

Don't go in the sun and shade your face if you do.

Keep that complexion creamy and pale.

It's not that whitening creams are especially prolific in Nablus. They are easily found in most places nowadays, more's the shame.

Nor is it that Nabulsi women are not particularly dark as it is.

It's that it's near impossible to find a non whitening face cream here. Despite the availability of almost every major brand including Olay, Garnier and Nivea - it's pretty much limited exclusively to their whitening lines.

Why? It's hip, it's trendy and it's oh so very close to the pictures of those nice ladies in magazines whose lives are oh so very different from theirs.

source

Chapter 115 Parent teacher conference

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Fri, 18 May 2012 19:07:00 +0000

"Oh we expect to be in Nablus for a long time. Except if the Israelis attack... then we'll go to America."

"She's never gotten over when the PA took her father away for a month. After he was released, she would sob every time he left the house, even if he was just going to the store down the street, panicking that he wasn't coming back."

"I want my son's English to improve as much as possible so that he can get out of here one day and make a good life for himself."

"I'm so glad he's doing well at school. My wish is for him to become a politician one day and help change things for us."

Chapter 114 Seriously, hike

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Fri, 04 May 2012 06:33:00 +0000

You thought I was kidding about the hiking stuff didn't you?

You smiled and nodded gently thinking it was the giddy excitement of novelty. You accepted them on the basis they resulted from the fallen standards of winter.

Trust me on this. Come. Hike. In. Palestine. If you're not the 'well let's just stop the car here and start walking type' then I've just the thing for you.

Walking Palestine, a soon to be released book detailed 25 stunning hikes in the West Bank. Painstakingly mapped out and written by Stefan Szepesi.

There's a sample chapter on his website which formed the basis of our last hike from Jenin down to the Christian/Muslim village of Zebebdeh.

An easy three hour stroll through warm, enveloping landscape.

Chapter 113 Over the counter

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 05:36:00 +0000

'Hello Pharmacist, do you have something for an itchy throat? It's not hurting or anything, just a little uncomfortable'

'Of course! Let me take a look. Aha! Here they are. Take these three times a day after eating.'

'Ok cool. What are these?'

'Antibiotics.'

'Oh... yes. Very good. Ummm... I was thinking more like a strepsil or something...'

silence.

When I was in school, our school nurse prescribed throat lozenges for anything from a headache to a broken arm.

Here it's antibiotics.

Sore throat? Antibiotics.
Runny nose? Antibiotics.
Tired? Antibiotics.

They're sold over the counter and, more often than not, prescribed by the pharmacist himself.

I recently met a girl over from Europe who was studying the waning effect of antibiotics here. Would love to know what she found.

Chapter 112 The West Bank's Biggest Secret

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 19:56:00 +0000

"You can hike around the West Bank?"

You can hike SO MUCH around the West Bank. You could get dropped off anywhere, head off in the direction of the nearest mountain, and find yourself surrounded by lush, flowing landscapes and colors that seem inconceivable in the land the world forgot.

I won't get too carried away with the hyperbole as there's a shocking number of photos below that tell this story. It is for reasons like this that I've kept up this blog. The West Bank is an unbelievably rich gold mine of outdoor activities and touristic wonders.

This may be its biggest secret.


Tubas city centre and the start of our hike. Not too far from the Jordan Valley

A mural of Yasser Arafat next to the Municipality building of Tubas

A discarded bee hive

A traditional stone oven. Check out my musakhan posts to learn about the deliciousness these ovens produce

Tortoise in the West Bank. Who knew?

This incredible eagle (?) soared overhead, coasting on the winds and searching for prey


Old old olive trees. All wrinkled and twisted... wonderful

Lovely little red flowers are sprinkled everywhere. They are very common here and I believe are called anemones.

On the way back to the servees station and Nablus after a hefty 5 hour hike around the area

Chapter 111 Running

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sun, 18 Mar 2012 07:02:00 +0000

Visas. Practically currency in the West Bank.

A 20 year old, wearing boredom in her holster and two years of compulsory khaki, determines your fate with youthful carelessness. She occupies, is militarized and questions your presence at her window.

Best case scenario? Jackpot – life in three month installments... each ending with a nail biting cliff hanger and no clues as to what the next season will bring.

“When’s your next visa run?”

“December – do you think I’ll have any problems?”

“I shouldn’t think so, you’ve only done one before. What are you going to tell them?”

“The truth.”

“Always the best thing. They know, you know. Also make sure there’s nothing incriminating if they Google you.”

“I will. Did you hear about Mike? He only got a month this time and Claire only got two weeks!”

“Two weeks? Seriously? Why?”

“They don’t like the NGO she works for.”

“Damn, what’re you gonna do in two weeks. What’s she going to do?”

“She’s not sure. Maybe go home for a couple months and try again.”

Wasta – The Arab version of an inside connection – might get you the expensive working visa that allows you access to the West Bank and Israel.

Oh and, that’s single entry by the way. It’s extra if you want a multi entry. Better sit tight and give up on the idea of seeing your friends and family again until your work in Palestine is done. Didn’t you know, beggars can’t be choosers?

Forget about Gaza, that’s a whole other molasses pool of tangled bureaucracy.

The stakes are high are they not?

The entire process sands you down.

Crossing the border is a misleading term. People never just ‘cross’ the border. People beg, lie, plead and crawl their way across the border.

You inch across that border.

Two steps forward and one step back. 10 minutes of questioning for every two hours that you spend on a metal bench, staring at your feet wondering where you will sleep that night.

Hour after hour strip layer upon layer of empathy, understanding and tolerance.

The one certainty you have is that, regardless of the outcome, it will be humiliating and destructive.

An extended volunteer visa. Source

Chapter 110 Where we winter

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 19:18:00 +0000

Jericho is the lowest city on earth. Which means it's always warm. Which is one of the many reasons I like it.

It's also one of the many reasons Palestinians like it. Jericho could conceivably be the West Bank equivalent of the South of France in the sense that its name fits comfortably into the following phrase:

'oh daaaarling, but you must come winter with us in Jericho this year. Maaarvelous weather we had last year, didn't we dear?'

I'm not super au fait with measurements, so I'm borrowing a friend's description of how much warmer Jericho is than Nablus on any given day:

Significantly.

It's hot, it's lush and going there feels like a holiday.

It's also home to the Interncontinental Hotel (which the kids love because there's a pool), the Banana Land waterpark, the Mount of Temptation and various other religious/historical sites.

So, to escape last week's death plunge to freezing, we decided to make a little day trip to the lovely Jericho.

Some pics for you. Hisham's Palace and the Jericho Equestrian Club - which was great despite having fallen on tough times.

The teleferique up to the Mount of Temptation

The entrance to the teleferique station - spiffy looking no?

Random camel chilling out at the servees station

Jericho is lush - palm trees are rarely seen in the rest of the West Bank

We walked to Hisham's Palace which is a few kilometres outside of the city centre

A model of the palace

Ruins - over 1000 years old

The private bathhouse in the palace with stunning mosaic. This image is the tree of life

An empty seating area over looking the outdoor riding arena at the Jericho Equestrian Club

Riders at the equestrian centre

An indoor arena

Chapter 109 Snow Day

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Fri, 02 Mar 2012 10:14:00 +0000


thank you to @PalestineRage for this beautiful picture. Ramallah

"It's going to snow tomorrow."

"No it's not. You know it's totally not."

"No really, everyone says so."

"Everyone says so every time. It's been two years dude, it's not going to snow."

And it never does.

Rumors of snow are forever circulating among staff and students. Whispers of freezing cold, raging winds and ghastly weather conditions.

The rumors are always attributed to some shadowy group of weather experts.

"They said it's going to snow."

But it never does.

"Miss Sara there's no school tomorrow."

"Really Maya? Who told you that?"

"My mom, she said they said it's going to snow."

"Has the principal said there's no school?"

"No. But nobody will come if it's snowing Miss Sara."

She's right. Most don't even come if it's raining.

But anyway it's a moot point because...

it never does.

Until today. The West Bank woke up to real, live, soft, white, still on the ground snow.

Twitter was abound with pictures and breathless descriptions of it.

It was a thing of beauty.

Snow fell almost everywhere.

Except Nablus.

Where it never does.

The sad, unsnowy view from my window

Around the West Bank. Photos courtesy of Maan News

Interviewing Change

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 13:10:00 +0000

Susan Macaulay has been a friend of mine for a few years and is someone I have a lot of admiration for.

She built her life and success with her bare hands and took every setback, every obstacle, and owned it.

She founded, created and grew the website Amazing Women Rock. It is an evolving tribute to the strengths and achievements of women throughout the ages and its community is spread all over the world.

She has recently been joining forces with Here Women Talk, an online radio station that covers a huge range of issues and topics.

Susan and HWT founder Kay Van Hoesen kindly invited me to participate in an interview to talk about my move to the West Bank and motivations behind it.

The interview is here and features my story as well as Susan's and an inspiring story of a lady who remade her life after being declared legally blind.

It's about 45 minutes long and there's some interesting debate at the end about what makes someone want to make a big jump or change.

Hope you enjoy it! If you've made any big changes yourself and can add to the debate please do leave me a comment.

Being part of a diaspora, I know a lot of people who have packed up and moved their life more than once.

Chapter 108 Nazareth - a city of two tales

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 18:52:00 +0000

There are two Nazareths.

One is the Nazareth of legend. Stunning Ottoman architecture, floating spires, and fantastical churches; standing; watching; outliving us all. Setting the stage day after day for religious pilgrims and tourists.

Cobbled, winding pedestrian roads leading through a quaint old market.Sunshine dappling through huddled, hunched buildings. Carpentry workshops and little shops carved into ruins and coffee shops peeking out from beneath old Roman staircases.

The smells of spice shops, wood shavings and wafts of sheesha smoke.

Wonderful little restaurants.Candle light careening off ancient walls. To die for, absolutely mind blowing fusion food eaten with fine wines and followed by sinful deserts.

But there are two Nazareths.

The other is the only remaining Arab city in Israel.

Previously a majority Christian city, Arab immigration post '48 shuffled the deck and a 2009 census puts the Muslim - Christian split at 70 - 30.

This other Nazareth weeps at the lack of jobs for its frustrated youth. It offers dark corners and alleyways to family feuding, often ending in violence. Poorly lit streets house drunken teenagers with little to do.

There are two Nazareths.

This, the impression of an outsider, can only be as accurate as the small window of time in which it was experienced.

Go. See its beauty and its hardship. Come back and tell me how many Nazareths you see.

Carpentry dates way back in Nazareth. Beautiful carvings, all hand made

In the tiny carpentry shop

Inside the famous White Mosque (it's only white on the outside)


The awesomest spice shop ever, 3 small rooms, dried fruits, infinite spices and all the machinery next door

At the spice shop

The White Mosque indoor courtyard

In the courtyard of the White Mosque

Roman ruins inside a coffee shop

Entrance to the Church of the Annunciation

Church of the Annunciation - the massive outdoor area

Church of the Annunciation - the entrance to the church

Church of the Annunciation - inside

Recently uncovered ruins

In the old market

A view of Nazareth - many steps were climbed to bring you this picture

Chapter 107 Legal tender

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sat, 25 Feb 2012 08:51:00 +0000

In 1927, the British Mandate introduced the Palestinian Pound as legal tender.

It replaced the Ottoman lira and the Egyptian Pound, which had slipped into circulation following the fall of the Ottoman Empire.

The pound was made up of 1000 mils and, in accordance with Article 22 of the Mandate's charter from the League of Nations, featured the word 'Palestine' in English, Arabic and Hebrew.

The money remained in circulation until Israel's creation in May 1948. It was demonetized in Israel after September 15, 1948; June 9th, 1951 in Gaza; and June 30th, 1951 in Jordan.

Now you can find them in one of the many antique stores around the city. The coins are not expensive however bank notes, rare to find in good condition, can sell for up to 1,000 Jordanian Dinars.

Currently the standard currency throughout the West Bank is the Israeli Shekel. The Jordanian Dinar is also commonly accepted even though the currencies are not tied.

Some consider the Palestinian Pound to be a 'dormant' currency; waiting for its day to come again.

a one pound note, a large doughnut shaped 20 mil coin, a smaller doughnut (5 mil) a bronze 1 mil and a silver 2 mil

Prints of Palestinian bank notes on a heap of antique coins

The reverse side of a 1927 mil coin

a 1942 1 mil coin

Chapter 106 Antiquing

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 12:24:00 +0000

Lots of antique shops around Nablus. They have specialized buyers that travel to all the neighboring villages to value and buy old items and family heirlooms.

Dusty shop walls literally overflowing with knick knacks, old tea sets, jewellery, furnishings and stories.

History on shelves...

Cameo

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 07:28:00 +0000

I was delighted to be asked to write a guest blog for Alexander McNabb's blog. This is his second blog and expands on the realities and background behind his recently published book Olives - A violent romance.

Alex asked me to write about my experiences crossing by land from Amman to the West Bank. I've made this crossing twice in two years and it was not easier the second time around.

The post is linked here.

I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 105 Strength

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 09:52:00 +0000

Nabulsi women are among the strongest women I know.

A Nabulsi woman of my age is living a life very different from my own. 9 times out of 10 she is married with at least three children. A house to clean, a husband to please, children to raise and, oftentimes, a job to help make ends meet.

She doesn't have the luxury of lazy afternoons sipping coffee while chatting with friends. She's not out shopping for clothes, planning a lunch break at the nearest salad bar.

She's working hard.

Of my good friends is the perfect example of this.

She is 36, with four children under the age of 10. Her husband is currently out of work and she works full time.

So... she wakes up every morning at 5 am to clean the house before getting the kids ready for school. She works a full day for minimal pay. She comes home in the evening and cooks a meal for her five person family as well as her husband's parents, who live downstairs.

She then cleans up dinner which, as any mother knows, is going to be messy if it involves toddlers and babies.

Then the kids have to be cleaned up, helped with their homework and put to bed before she can finally light up her sheesha and put up her feet.

On a good day, she puffs away in peace. On an average day she has to deal with her bored husband who has decided she must now also wear her hijab in the presence of his brothers.

Despite this, she must be one of the loveliest, most cheerful people I know.

And she is not alone. Most of the mothers I have met are of the same ilk.

The mothers we meet in the camps have dealt with the horrors of occupation; the imprisonment of their husbands, sons and brothers, deaths of loved ones and crippling poverty. They have done so with iron in their souls. Still, warmth flows through their touch and compassion colors their eyes, even when dealing with strangers.

Nabulsi women are among the strongest people I know.

Chapter 104 Products and posters

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 23:43:00 +0000

The desire to make money, regardless of the means, is well served by the simultaneous existence of the need to make ends meet.

This is also helpfully facilitated by controlling the flow of products coming in and out of a country.

Tapuzina Juice is one of the many Israeli products found on the shelves of supermarkets in the West Bank.

Hummos, skin care, cleaning products, shampoos, clothing, electric goods and medication produced in (or imported via) Israel are also widely available in supermarkets and shops.

A recent Gulf News article states that $3 billion worth of Isreali products are sold in the territories each year.

Choices are limited. International brands are expensive and local production is low.

There is also a slight element of snobbery. Some people prefer to buy Israeli products based on the idea that the quality is better.

While boycotting is not widespread in Nablus, these posters have recently made an appearance around the center of town. They are a part of a wider campaign that was launched last year.

I'm not sure to what extent people have rallied around this movement, but it's there.

A poster calling for a boycott of Tapuzina and other Israeli products to help fight the occupation

A car sticker of a fist wrapped in a Palestinian flag squeezing an orange

Chapter 103 Mmmmmusakhan

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 16:44:00 +0000

Warm, doughy flat bread topped with cooked onions, summac*, roasted chicken and almonds... drenched... practically dripping with pure home grown olive oil.

Tear at it with slippery fingers, olive oil running down your arms as you scoop mouth watering mouthful after mouthful into your mouth.

Mmmmm... musakhan. The ultimate Palestinian dish.

If you're in Nablus go to Mashawi Baladna. If you're in Ramallah take a serveese down to Ain Areek and find the Al Falaha Restaurant with its stunning outside seating area.

Plan ahead for the inevitable food coma.

Taboon - the traditional bread that forms the foundation of the dish. Source


Those are each one person portions at Mashawi Baladna in Nablus

At Al Falaha. The chicken is slow roasted and comes smoothly and easily off the bone

The stone oven used to bake the bread

The inside part of the restaurant is very small and white with traditional Palestinian dresses hanging on the walls

The outside of Al Falaha Restaurant in Ain Areek (a suburb of Ramallah). It used to be a separate village however as Ramallah grew it adopted many of the surrounding villages into its domain

The outside seating area in Al Falaha. There's a little playground at the end for kids

A fountain at the end of the garden in Al Falaha

You just gotta dig in

*Summac is a purple spice used fairly commonly in Middle Eastern cuisine to add a lemony taste to meats and salads

Chapter 102 Ads on wheels

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 11:09:00 +0000

A form of advertising that's gaining popularity in Nablus.

Now that's my idea of a yummy car ;)