The East of the Middle

To that amazing guy across the street

2014-08-29T01:49:00.000-07:00

Night falls. The moon
cold and in solitude, envies you
as it peppers
the stagnant air above your bed
with lunar dust, thinking
“that looks pretty cozy”.

Perhaps it doesn’t know
the air you breathe is mustard gas
and those are not
creases on your cotton underpants.
They are colossal tears
of sweat.

You lie awake
on your soaked moonlit bed.
The dusty curtains hanging heavy
As if you are inside
gravity herself.
Your sand-filled lungs wheeze quietly.

Intruders watch you
From the sill
Your windows flung ajar.
One nears your bed
attracted by your potent smells
his shadow
travelling across your hairy belly.
You look.
A giant cockroach.

Who are you
hero of the night
the bravest man on earth.
You have achieved
the unimaginable.

Through the open windows
I see your moonlit legs
Shifting in the night.
And I think
“How?”

You truly are
A legend
the one and only
most audacious creature
who lay in bed at night
in August
without aircon.
This is an ode to you

Just wanted to make a confession...

2012-04-17T08:55:00.000-07:00

Courchevel, whilst you bask in all your vomit-inducing Eastern Bloc nouveau riche glory, I am actually in love with your April slopes. There. I said it.

Back by popular demand: The Gaash Spa

2011-12-19T06:49:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I was cursed with finding an issue of Israeli TimeOut magazine in some place the devil planted it. He obviously roofied me beforehand, which is why I can't even remember where I found the damn thing. Perhaps I wouldn't be so negative about TimeOut if they hadn't deleted my passionately-hatred-infused comment on their facebook wall.

Anyway TimeOut, you failed at your Kim Jong Il-ly (?) (RIP) antics because it turns out your followers would much rather read my crappy reviews of your abominable recommendations than look at pixelated pictures of badly decorated food. Long story short, the satanized copy of TimeOut that landed in my talons recommended that readers check out the "oasis of thermal spring activity" that is the Gaash Spa. Those were (almost) the exact words TimeOut used although I can no longer be sure since I drenched the copy in garlic and kerosene and threw it into Eyjafjallajokull. The utter trauma that followed my visit to this so-called "spa" induced bouts of literary paroxysms which resulted in the review below, posted here by popular demand of those who had the time to be warned before TimeOut pretended it never happened. Just remember: words are probably not enough.

Nov. 12, 2011. I don't know where else to write this so I'm going to help myself to this space.. In your last edition you recommended readers go to the Gaash Spa, with its thermal springs whatnot. I was looking forward to an awesome day of hangover marinating. and HOLY. SHIT. Does anyone go to these places before they get recommended? Timeout goes out to hotels, all sorts of upscale establishments--I think the cover of the next issue needs to feature an official apology for that recommendation, just for the sake of saving your reputation. I honestly refuse to believe that anyone could have gone to that place and not died from some flesh-eating disease and then written an ad for it in anything for anyone other than their worst enemy.

We arrived at the place and the first thing I saw was a manky towel on the floor covered in hair and dirt. Whatever. The further we ventured into this atrocity the more i felt the situation being morphed into some sort of horrible low-end communist sanatorium trip to hell. When we entered the actual "spa", I think I shat a chicken. In one sentence, they took a rural village in the middle of some third world country where people have no teeth or hygiene, multiplied it by 1000 in size and grossness, and crammed said people in a 10 meter pool. Oh and on top of that these hoards I mean HOARDS of people were consuming really gross food all over the place--including in the pool, on the massage chairs, etc. The air was so thin and disease-ridden that I was holding on to whatever oxygen molecules I think were caught in the creases of my sweater.

Anyway, the only way I can erase this memory from my head would be to get hit by a jumbo jet. I sincerely hope I was one of the very few who actually read that thing, but I BEG you please don't subject people to something like this again. It will take weeks of counselling before I'm ready to touch TimeOut again. You owe me a pint.

Because no camera could handle what I had witnessed without shattering into a million pieces, I am sans photographic evidence. However, I scoured corners of the innerwebs in search of something that could come close. Nothing did. Although something vaguely reminded me of that experience, sending shivers down my spine....

Be warned!

An ode to the promised land + an anti-ode (?) to rest of world

2011-08-31T05:50:00.000-07:00

I figured a post where I wax lyrical about my love for the Holy land is long overdue, and let's face it there is an elephant in my pants concerning whether I some sort of hate the alleged motherland. Obviously giving you a straightforward answer to that would be a bit cliché so I'm going to communicate my repartee through the use of visual props and loin warming imagery. Didn't Socrates once say, a picture speaks a thousand words? N'est-ce pas?

Exemplar numero uno.. a full fledged 180 degree Mediterranean sunset. Note that a 180 degree angle Mediterranean sunset observation can only be achieved on a (kind of) parallel longitude to said sunset.. ie if you ain't watching it in Israel (or Cyprus or Lebanon or uhh other parts), it ain't in a straight line baby. And who wants to watch sunset in a crooked line? That's so lame.

Miami eat your heart out.. your sun will never set into the sea

The next specimen need no introduction. When was the last time you had butterflies in your tummy? I think I just had some now.

I was obliged to semi-decapitate Adonis's head (names have been changed to protect identity) in fear of ~~disappearing forever~~ accumulating a dangerously large fan base for him

Let's play a game of associations shall we. Me first.
Stallions..... Israel!

Never ending awesome weather galore... ~~Bermu.~~. No, Israel

Night life... yuppp, you guessed it.

Food... the first thing that comes to mind on that is actually Entrecote,, but for narrative purposes we'll say Greece and Israel.

The more acute amongst yourselves will realize that we don't have to play the game of associations for long for the fundamental truth to dawn upon us. Israel rocks the Casbah. What a blasphemous thing I just said.

Do you live somewhere that looks like this in August (no offence Edinburgh)? And think it's perfectly alright to live like that? I used to be just like you. But one day I realized I can live like this in January! And you can too.. Thank me later

And this!

Oh and did I mention this?

You're welcome for the existential crisis.

Richest Palestinian Munib Masri's crib. Eat your socks.

2010-12-07T07:17:00.000-08:00

don't act like you've never seen
a burning road before

I bet you didn't think Picasso and Modigliani when you thought Palestine. Well, yall better start shifting your paradigms, because up a long windy and literally fiery road in an obnoxiously hilly town called Nablus (that's Palestine, not Israel, Google maps) you may encounter something I can only accurately describe as an exact-except-probably-better replica of Antonio Palladio's 16th century Italian Villa Rotunda (go on Wikipedia it. Bets on when Jimmy's despondent gaze will stop making my intake of information unnecessarily uncomfortable?).
The villa is modestly and suitably complimented with freshly imported textiles and woodwork from Ikea. Ha Ha. I kid. Cuz by Ikea I mean auction-scouted Renaissance art and furniture, complete with a 16th century statue of Hercules and a greenhouse built by Napoleon for one of his mistresses. Mmm. A greenhouse is exactly what comes to mind when I think gifts from Napoleon.

Did I mention all the brickwork was imported from France? The foundations of "Beit Falastin" (Palestine house as the crib was titled) were laid by 500 local workers just in time for Israeli soldiers to occupy them during the second intifada, which I believe gives my story an extra spicy kick.

So anyway, the Palestinian Rotunda belongs to none other than the "king of West Bank" Munib Masri--the richest Palestinian in the world and a once very close personal friend of Yasser (and now ME, obviously).

Call Munib's house ostentatious or other fancy pedantic words that come to your mind but I can't help but think he is a very cool dude if only for the fact that, of all his choices, he decided to make the West Bank his swanky home. That's not the only reason why I think he's a cool dude, fiy. He is omnipresent in Palestinian politics but I know all you want to see are colours and imagery so luckily for you I have just that. Knock yourselves out.

That's my ~~Toyota~~ helicopter ~~rip-roaring up an insane steep hill~~ arriving in style to greet Mr Masri on Mt Gerizim

Wait a minute. This can't be the right way.. We're in Venice!

The 70 acres on which the Masri house is built is designated area "A" (under Palestinian control) with its very own Israeli army checkpoint chilling directly outside the entrance

Oh looky I took a picture of a checkpoint and didn't die

So yea here is the photographic equivalent of my story's climax. I hope you're wearing your seatbelt.

BEHOLD: THE HOOS

"Beit Falastin". Of course I read Arabic

The famous glasshouse Napoleon built for Josephine which Masri won in a bidding war. Josephine must have been ecstatic? I know I would

The vieeeew

See? Told you we were still in Palestine

Does this house have an inside? You bet. If you stick around for longer I'll throw in a surprise.

Hercules and some living quarters

The viewww

Allegedly this throne once belonged to Khedive Ismail, a 19th century Egyptian monarch and grandfather of King Farouk, currently accommodating Munib Masri. I have no idea who that is trying to cosy up to the throne. Could be ~~my mother~~ the maid. She likes shiny things.

So remember that surprise I promised? I'm tired so I'll make the end short and sweet for you.

What is this crap?? She tricked us with pictures of history and cultural things. AAAh, my eyes. Oh I dunno maybe it's just his very own 4th century Byzantine church excavations in the basement? Beat THAT, Rotunda.

I'm pretty sure that says CSI Vegas kicks Miami's ass hands DOWN. Of course I read ancient Greek.

4th century wha??

Ok bai kitteh.

Haifa and Acre (Akko): Baha'i Shrine and Gardens

2010-12-06T07:09:00.000-08:00

The more pacifist amongst yourselves will perhaps have heard of the Baha'i religion. It is the world's newest religion (not to be confused with the constantly appearing kidney-snatching bible belt sects) which started in Iran (where else would it start, right?) by this gentleman called Baha'u'llah in the late 1800's. He was imprisoned for his beliefs and exiled to Akko in Palestine which was meant to be an extremely manky, harsh environment. Long story short, Baha'u'llah turned out to lead a biologically and mentally fruitful life in Akko having produced fourteen children and many more works on the Baha'i faith whilst under house arrest in this prototype of my future house:

Baha'u'llah's house arrest crib in Akko

Among the things the Baha'i faith teaches are a universal god, acceptance of all religions, the unity of the human race, Peace with a capital P, and intensely well maintained gardens. Since Baha'u'llah declared mount Carmel (present day Haifa, Israel) the center of the Baha'i faith this is what has become of it:

The hanging gardens of Haifa. How despicably well maintained.

The avid gardening didn't stop there. If gardening is your thing, you probably shouldn't look because your yard will never look this good. The secretary-general of the Bahai faith Mr. Albert Lincoln and his wife Barbara kindly showed us around the Baha'i community center in Akko (accessible only to Baha'i followers). Soo...Versailles, eat your heart out.

Place was riddled with prototypes of my future house

Mmm sunset

So apparently there are over 5 million Baha'i worshippers around the globe, and the number is growing steadily. Since Baha'i is basically a combination of all world religions and accepts people from all faiths, you should probably convert asap. You get to visit the gardens!

So as an end note I will leave you with this question: is there such a thing as a TOO well maintained garden? Discuss!

West Bank: Beit Jala

2010-12-06T04:38:00.000-08:00

People come in all shapes and sizes and surprisingly so do Palestinians. If you knew what a Palestinian was then you probably imagined a beardy Muslim brandishing a ~~rocket~~ goat in the olive grove. I am disappointed with your stereotype, mainly for the reason that about 4% of West Bank Palestinians are Christian, with a 75,000-strong diaspora currently residing in Chile (yea, I dunno either). The highest concentration of Christian Palestinians is in the three "Jesus" towns in the West Bank (those are Jesus's delivery ward Bethlehem and his local hangouts Beit Jala and Beit Sahour). I have partaken in Jesus veneration in Bethlehem about twenty times too many so this time we decided to admire him in Beit Jala, a town which I personally find really fresh and awesome. We were received by a super nice Beit Jalean (?) family who showed us around the hot spots: a Christian community center which induced bouts of jealousy in my childhood, Beit Jala's very own little mighty rugby club and--oh!--I almost forgot--a church.

Million dollar question: Can you find the recurring theme in this picture? (Hint: It looks like giant flying lipstick tops)

East coast Jesus and (literally) bloody Mary

--Jesus you must be reaaaly happy to see me, bro

--Oh yea well at least I don't look like a Hasidic yeti (Matthew 4:20)

Man I love churches. Almost as much as this:

Our trip ended with the usual: amazing Palestinian food, home-brewed olives and body spasms induced by 200 cups of Arabic coffee and football-sized baklava at the mayor's house. On a sentimental tear-jerking note though I have to add that the hospitality of people in the West Bank makes me question what I previously believed about ~~Ukrainian~~ human nature.

I enjoyed eating this almost as much as I enjoyed my black eye and olive shower when I tried to open it

As an ending touch I will throw in some controversy. Ta da!

PS have you SEEN the size of this pussycat??

Iftar in Jordan

2010-11-08T03:19:00.000-08:00

During last year's Ramadan we decided to break fast in Amman (ie the capital of Jordan, mhmmm mhmmm). Since Muslims fast throughout the day during Ramadan, the evening meal, called Iftar, is somewhat reminiscent of a Ukrainian wedding feast, except you have to attend said wedding every night for a month, all the while steering clear of the booze and merrymaking (nevermind, how Ukrainian is a booze-less wedding? Possibly less Ukrainian than the statue of liberty). When fasting, you are not allowed to eat or drink, and if you ever see a Muslim spitting profusely during Ramadan it is also because some people believe swallowing their saliva is un-Ramadany too. In my best efforts to be a devout Muslim for a day I went without Coke for about two hours. I was also explained that eating and drinking in public would be the biggest taboo that has ever lived, but having succumbed to my lack of willpower I scavenged the streets in search of an open shop to feed my fizzy soil colored liquid addiction. Having at last found a semi-open corner store full of men catching Ramadan z's I beyond awkwardly purchased some Bebsi (the Arab Pepsi. duh). I tried to offer them an explanation--something along the lines of--I'm saving it for later, but they didn't speak any English, so I'm pretty sure they thought I was rubbing the Bebsi in their faces. I then proceeded to crawl under the seat in the car and practise gluttony on a can of Pepsi in a foetal roll on the floor.
The thought of starvation continued to haunt me throughout the day. My state fluctuated between sheer delirium and the feeling of certain death for nearly an hour when the sun started setting and the scent of cooking on the streets penetrated my senses like potent smelling salts. We chose Tannoureen for breaking fast--a Lebanese feastaurant (or fastaurant? I have a degree in wordplay. No I don't! You so bought that). My delirious state, coupled with the afternoon prayer and the gleaming of the day's last rays directly into my eye made the whole thing unbelievably surreal. We were surrounded by burka-clad ladies and beardy men excitedly lasering the dates on the table with their eyes (it's tradition to break fast with dates first. I obviously funnelled down my plate of dates, pits and all, way before the sun was down). But here is the climax of my story you have been on the edge of your seat for: when our collective prayer finally made the sun go away and its rays stopped harassing my retina, the fury of hunger was unleashed on what I can only describe as a gigantic, never-ending, mind boggling buffet of extremely unfamiliar food fit to feed an army of godzillas. Despite the hunger-fuelled stampede, there was so much food in every corner of the room that malnourished tears were short of pouring down my face in disbelief at the heavenly display.
Obviously I was too busy hoovering down unidentified grub to take pictures. Photography only infiltrated my thoughts by the time I turned into this and it was dessert time.

Unidentified weiner-shaped meat~~balls~~sticks and something in a taco roll

Goga gola

This may come as a surprise but I know what this is called: it is called Luqaimat and they are like deep-fried sugar balls. Ta da!

So I guess Iftar in Jordan is one experience I will never forget. Just imagining that people get to do this every day for a month makes me wonder why I am not Muslim yet, but then I remember about the fasting part and that answers my question. Ok baiii

Golan Heights: Syria

2010-11-03T01:15:00.000-07:00

Wow where do I begin on this one. First of all, the Golan Heights is what the international community refers to as "occupied territories" you hear about all the time (I hope you know your current events. If not, go away. Just kidding. Kinda). It is a large plateau up north of Israel bordering Syria to the East and Lebanon to the north, which amounts to 6% of Israel (only according to Israel, cuz according to others it amounts to 100% occupied Golan territories. Just sayin'.). Until the Six Day War in 1967 the Golan Heights was happily Syrian until it was suddenly Syrian no more, because--tum dum dummm--Israel wanted it some Golan Heights too. Well no, legend has it that Israel tried to return the heights in exchange for being BFFs with Syria but Syria politely refused the offer, so Israel decided fair dues and rejectedly kept the land. And what lovely land it was--Golan Heights is agriculturally rich and produces 15% of all of Israel's water supply. Golan settlements also allegedly make the yummiest wine ever, and it's such a shame you've pledged to never touch it because endorsing settlement activity is totally PIC (I support your decision).

On set of Lord of the Rings. Just kidding, it's the Golan Heights innit

The little known fact about the Golan Heights, apart from the fact that no one seems to know about the Golan Heights itself, is that the physical border between Israel and Syria is MANNED--that is, it is actually made up of UN personnel holding hands in peace and harmony over an 80 km stretch. Or maybe not exactly holding hands, but they're there, and they are called UNDOF: United Nations Disengagement Observer Force ~~by Steven Spielberg~~. I think the UNDOF mission is the most successful and thus least known UN mission ever, and I gotta say they sprinkled that border with sugar and spice and everything nice. The place was really clean and well run, and full of soldiers which is always a bonus.

UNDOF staff unpacking furbys and adorable kittens...--how did you think they maintain the peace in the Middle East?

Me hangin out.. you know how we do

There are two more cool things about the UNDOF border I remember. One, the Golan occupation physically separated families and villages, a significant number of Syrian citizens remaining on the "Israeli" side. Brides and students are occasionally allowed to cross the border on a one-way trip of a lifetime (meaning--there's no return). There is a movie about that--Syrian brides clad in wedding dresses strutting their funky stuff across the border, surrounded by soldiers, having bade adieu to their family. A bit sad, really.

The other cool thing is the town of Quneitra--the ex-Syrian HQ of Golan Heights, capitulated to Israel in the Six Day War. It is not so much a city as it is a ghost of something that with a lot of imagination could once have been a city, lying within the UNDOF border and forbidden to be rebuilt by the Syrian authorities as a reminder of Israeli might and wreath.

This was actually my view at the dining table as I dined in fear of the force of nature that is Israel

Driving through what actually felt like the set of the Pianist

The Golan hospital must have been a particular source of anger for someone with a machine gun

So that's it for now.. spread the word about the fluffy and nice that is the UNDOF border!

UN day Olive Harvest in West Bank

2010-11-02T09:52:00.000-07:00

So UN day is a vewy thpethial day during which the peoples of the world are reminded about UN's core values of peace and fluffiness. This year UN day in Israel was celebrated in the outskirts of the Palestinian Ramallah in the centre of the West Bank--in a small town called Turmus Ayya. When practising their love of living too close for comfort to Palestinians, Jewish settlers have graced the Turmus Ayya neighbourhood with a whole lot of their kind, in a 2300-strong settlement called Shilo (ya Brangelina's love child!).

Anyway, as everyone knows settlers like to live in style, and by style I mean machine guns and crop devastation. So, this year the settlers didn't disappoint, having uprooted a cropload of olive trees and flooded others with poison and sewage (click for a creepy picture of settlers in the bushes). Note: olive harvest is nearly the main source of food and income for West Bank Palestinians, and is generally a symbol of Palestine. In Turmus Ayya the super funny Shilo residents allegedly decided to flood the olive groves with chemicals and sewage... why do they do this, you ask? I don't have a definitive answer to that.. one theory postulated by leading scientists states that it could have something to do with the fact that they live off benefits and have absolutely nothing else to do. Also something about the Messiah, but let's not dwell too much on that.
So on UN day in Turmus Ayya around 300 UN staff and volunteers, matched by possibly as much media, showed up to help the villagers with the olive harvest. The avid gardener Salam Fayyad (prime minister of Palestine) came too, casually declaring that the state of Palestine will be viable by August of next year (woot?). Anyway who doesn't like picking olives? I know I do.

Fellow harvest supporters--they were adorable (I mean the kids, duh :P) Some of Shilo settlement is visible in the background... they didn't even come down to help, jeez what grumpy neighbours :(

UN envoy Robert Serry showing Al Jazeera how it's done

Tis me, olive fan numero uno

Prime minister Salam Fayyad and UN envoy Robert Serry sitting in a tree?

My best friends for the day. That flag is now mine. Selling it for $500 (hey, it's valuable memorabilia)

O hai Yasser

So overall the harvest day in Turmus Ayya was a success, I was a little disappointed that Shilo residents didn't come to help out--it's not like they don't have the time, right? I was particularly impressed with the Palestinian kids who were the most hard working and friendly. If you are ever in the region around October and dangerous olive picking is your kind of pastime, Turmusayya residents would love to hear from you! Ta da.
PS: I also found out that raw olives taste like toilet duck. Did you know that?

Syria - Damascus

2010-10-15T03:59:00.000-07:00

I visited Syria a while ago but never really got to indoctrinate people with its awesomeness so I will attempt to do so now. Syria rocks for several reasons. First of all, it is a country under martial law since the 60's, and continues to be so, justifying its regime by the threat posed by the state of Israel. Unlike many other Arab Muslim states, such as Saudi Arabia and Egypt, Syria is not under Sharia law (religious Islam law) but is rather secular, and is ruled by the Socialist Ba'ath party. Being under military regime means you won't browse the likes of blogspot or facebook in Syria--or you could try, but then you get shot. Ha ha! Only joking, you get your typing fingers chopped off. Boring stuff aside, being in Syria totally has a communist slash retro-military feel to it. I like it!

Here is a really enthusiastic dictator-y traffic-blocking policeman who helped us get around town. He loved his job.

Here is Syria's president Bashar Al-Assad hanging out in the streets of Damascus, watching over the people what not

Our first pit stop was the beautiful Umayyad mosque in Damascus. John the Baptist's head is allegedly buried here, having been decapitated and presented to King Herod on a silver platter...

The amazing entrance to the mosque and secret VIP room which took 200 years to build

Tis me clad in lavish Arabian textiles

See what I mean by retro-commie vibe? Feels like you just got warped dead bang into the middle of the cold war.

Then we went to hang out at Azem palace, built in the 1700's for the Ottoman governor of Damascus. Syrian architecture is my worldwide fave so far, full of colour and insane minute detail. The picture below is a reconstruction of a bath house and they are just bathing! You pervert.

One thing Damascus is really famous for is its Al Hamidiyeh Souq (market) which is a really lively roofed street stretching out for miiiiles, with the most beautiful stuff on sale. Obviously, when there, you would have sinned if you didn't visit Bakdash--the world famous Damascus home-made ice cream place. It was crammed and I don't even like ice cream--but have you ever wondered what god has for dessert? Bakdash ice cream.. It's in the Bible, I checked.

We did ~~some~~ a LOT of shopping--stuff in Damascus is hand-made and cheap. If you like to shop then you probably shouldn't come here because this place will make your head pop.

In the evening we hung out at the Art House--a stunning converted mill restaurant/hotel with a never ending supply of incredible food I practised gluttony on. This place defo surpassed a Western place in the amount of free yum and fun.

Our trip continued with a visit to the Golan heights which I will cover later. All in all I have to say Damascus is is pretty much the Paris of the East. It doesn't get too much tourism mainly because people have no idea what it's like, but my verdict is you would deny yourself a lot of exotic pleasures if you didn't visit here NOW. Plus, you probably need the break from facebook. Am I right?

Visit to Hebron

2010-10-14T11:35:00.000-07:00

I recently got to join my parents on a trip to Hebron, the largest city in the West Bank and home to a cropload of Jewish settlers. We met with Mr Khaled Osaily--the city's mayor, who was super kind to show us around the place and invite us over to his kick-ass house. Awesome living quarters aside, Hebron is a city full of spicy history and action, and not really the good kind. As the favourite hangout place of Abraham and his posse back in the day, the Cave of the Patriarchs, located in Hebron, is the second holiest site for Jews after the Temple Mount, but also happens to be highly venerated by Muslims and Christians, as they too like a bit of Abraham and that. Anyway, fifteen or so years back one Jewish settler doctor decided to pay the jam-packed Ibrahimi mosque (located over the cave) a visit during Ramadan prayer time, bringing with him a token of friendship in the form of a massive machine gun, hosing the mosque down with bullets and killing 29 people before being bludgeoned to death by the angered crowd. Since then the mosque has been partitioned, part of it becoming a synagogue, with bullet-proof glass separating the two sides from "stray" doctor bullets.

Here is a terrible picture of the bullet-proof glass hanging out right next to the cenotaph of Abraham

We then had a stroll through Hebron's deserted markets. Legend has it that once upon a time the markets were filled with merchandise and visitors, until they began to pose a massive security risk to the settlers who decided to settle directly above them.. Having settled above the bustling Palestinian markets the settlers decided the ideal place for garbage and general toxic waste disposal would be.. tum dum dummm--the busy market streets! Here are a few pics of the kind of things people's heads and merchandise served as a dumping ground for.

Giant plastic barrels, bricks, wood boards and tables are not the type of objects I normally dispose of at MY house, but then again I also prefer a different exit route for my trash.

All in all it was a pretty fun day, I got to hang out with some soldiers wielding machine guns and have awesome lunch at mayor Oseily's house!

Mayor Oseily's home-made Hebronian food FTWWWW