I was instructed by my guide to not wear a kippah while on tour of the Palestinian city of Ramallah. I’m currently at a cafe in the old city section, enjoying a delicious kabob pita served by the gracious proprietors (my Magen David tucked securely under my shirt) situated just around the corner from Jihad (struggle) St.
The first thing that strikes me is how close the “refugee” camps are to the city. They literally are on the border, and their inhabitants can not only move to Ramallah if they can afford to, but some actually maintain homes in both places, which doesn’t, I’ve been informed, effect their refugee status for UNWRA.
More on my Ramallah excursion later.
