It’s only our second shoot and
I’m wondering if our subjects are trying to complicate identity
issues more for me or just trying to say something like “Hey…I
can be a Cowboy and still be Chinese” or “I can be a Christian
living in the midst of religious conflict and still be Chinese
too”. As my stream of conscious wanders, I’m distracted by the
Klezmer Hip Hop tuning in from a near by radio in the kitchen.
We check out and say goodbye to everyone before heading off to
Jerusalem, taking the scenic route through Nazareth along the
Sea of Galilee to avoid possible snipers. Cheuk is exhausted
from the driving after we passed the Jordan River. I take over
with the West Bank ahead. Driving into Jerusalem through rush
hour traffic was quite a kamikaze ordeal. After much getting
lost, we find my bed and breakfast and Cheuk flies home early
while I stay behind for a few more days.
I spend the next few days shooting (not literally) diverse faces
and different neighbourhoods in and around Jerusalem, Old City
and Bethlehem. I’m told to avoid the Arab quarters by the
Israelis and the Arabs tell me not to tread too deep into Jewish
neighbourhoods. At night, I mostly look for Swiss-run (neutral)
cyber cafes to check for e-mail… just kidding about the Swiss
part.
Sexy babes in army fatigues are a common sight here. Living in a
country where you’re surrounded by potential enemy attacks,
every soldier must carry their automatic assault weapon even
during off-duty hours in bars and discos. After causing a domino
affect on a row of Uzi’s leaning up against the bar, I meet
Rachel. She invites me to join her to bath at the salt springs
in the Dead Sea after I asked if that was her Uzi or is she just
happy to see me? Yeah… so I’m a bit cliché… but what else are
you gonna say to a hottie in uniform? Especially one with an
Uzi.
Rachel and I spent the next forty-eight or so hours together. I
can’t say that it was a “till sunrise” experience. We both knew
that a Saba would never leave Israel and I could never see
myself living there. So we made the best of forty-eight hours,
spent the night together, went to the Dead Sea the next day.
After that, we could only stand each other long enough for a
sweet goodbye at the airport as the sulfur from the salt springs
made both of us stink like rotten eggs. Nonetheless, it was an
amazing forty-eight hours and my former girlfriend has become
more or less a faded memory.
The airport experience was the worst I’ve ever had. Thank God I
gave myself plenty of time. I was grilled and interrogated by
midget cops for nearly three hours. Standard interrogation
tactics, but really annoying. I was cooperative until they blew
up one of my lamps. After that I just lost it and demanded to
speak to Canadian authorities, US cash for compensation and told
them to kiss my sulfur-clad ass. Since I lived to tell the tale…
it’s needless to tell you that I got my US cash in a neat pile
without any paper work and was personally escorted to my gate by
head of security but they never did kiss my sulfur-clad ass.
Previous