amorfati1
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- 2014_Caminho Portuguese (Lisboa to Santiago_4 weeks in May)
so many gorgeous paths, such a short glorious life ... sigh...
best wishes - C
~~~~~~
http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20170428-the-ancient-path-through-palestine
Infamous for walls and checkpoints that keep people apart, the Palestinian Territories are united by a walking trail tracing the footsteps of Abraham, the father of Islam and Judaism.
Shamous is the snappiest of dressers. She matches fluorescent pink Wellington boots with turquoise leggings and a black ra-ra dress. Playing on the shell of a burnt-out go-kart, she sticks her nose in the air and grins cheekily through the desert wind.
The sparky four year old lives in Ras al-Auja in the West Bank, where Bedouin huts sit between Roman archaeological remains and tumbling waterfalls. Her mother and father are among some 25 families who welcome visitors to stay in their homes along the Masar Ibrahim al-Khalil, a 321km walking trail across the Palestinian Territories.
The Masar Ibrahim al-Khalil is a 321km walking trail across the Palestinian Territories (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
Noura Abu Khurbesh loves seeing Shamous and her three other children take a shine to guests. âThey are happy when new visitors come â they give them presents and play with them,â she said. âI want my children to know how to receive foreigners, to do this work when they grow up.â
People see this place as âThe Holy Landâ and forget the people who live here.
Snaking through the West Bank from the city of Jenin in the north to the city of Hebron in the south, the Masar Ibrahim is part of a wider project, the Abraham Path, a long-distance trekking trail celebrating the route taken through the Middle East by the man held by some as the father of Arabs and Jews.
War has stalled the path in Syria, and the route in southern Turkey passes through what is currently less-than-secure territory. But the West Bank section has been one of the most successful. Hundreds of foreign tourists and local Palestinians walk the path every year, crossing cultural and religious boundaries and breaking down stereotypes.
âPeople see this place as âThe Holy Landâ and forget the people who live here â how they live and think,â said Zaid Alazhari, the pathâs field co-ordinator around the city of Nablus, a little more than 70km north of Jerusalem. âThis is a way for Palestinians to have a choice about telling the world their story.â
Khurbesh: âI want my children to know how to receive foreigners, to do this work when they grow upâ (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
Intensely aware of the scenes of violence that dominate news coverage, Palestinians are keen for visitors to see things with their own eyes.
âMany guests have said to us that when they told their friends they were going to Palestine, they got the reply, âThere is war. That is not a good thing to doâ,â said Rand Murra, whose mother operates a homestay for walkers in the village of Kafr Malik, perched 800m above sea level 25km northeast of the city of Ramallah. âBut when they come here, I like hearing them say, âWe changed our minds, and we saw the bright side.â That is the most important thing for me.â
Over the course of three days, I, a photographer colleague and our guide wove our way south from Nablus to Ras al-Auja through olive groves and peach orchards, up rocky slopes and around field boundaries. Some were cultivated with wheat and other cereals. Others were apparently left fallow, overtaken by wild poppies and purple thorns.
The trail offers a glimpse of everyday life in the West Bank (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
Creating the path has not been a walk in the park, quite literally. Masar Ibrahimâs co-ordinating team has worked hard to develop unmarked sections of the route. Theyâve had to work around numerous obstacles, like military checkpoints operated variously by the Israel Defence Forces and the Palestinian Authority, where vehicles and travellers undergo ID checks and searches. At Awarta, south of Nablus, for example, walkers must travel an 8km section by car to bypass a major inspection point.
When they come here, I like hearing them say, âWe changed our minds, and we saw the bright side.â
Sometimes, what we saw along the way made us want to cry. All the hospitality in the world cannot deter from the sadness that afflicts these lands.
We arrived in the village of Duma, 25km southeast of Nablus, at sunset on the first day of our trek. This small community of 3,500 people was ripped apart in 2015 when 18-month-old Ali Dawabsheh and his parents were killed in an arson attack on their simple, low-slung house. The air was still filled with silent sadness.
Our guide, Anwar, was from the same clan as the victims, and he showed us the remains of the burnt home. âI always bring walkers on the Masar Ibrahim to the house. I donât like coming here, but we have to see it,â he said, looking at the ground.
The path weaves through orchards, rocky slopes and field boundaries (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
But more often than not, we were smiling. On the second day, we shared beers and anecdotes about summer nightlife with Madees Khoury, the female beer-maker at Taybeh Brewing Company. When it was established in 1994, it was the Middle Eastâs first microbrewery, located in the Christian village of its name.
âWhen people find out about our Oktoberfest, they are shocked,â Khoury laughed, explaining plans for Taybehâs annual version of the famous German beer festival. âWhen they find out that I make the beer, they are even more shocked. Iâm not your typical âgirly girlâ. I drive a forklift. I carry cases of beer. I fight with the truck drivers.â
In Kafr Malik, Murraâs mother, Misada Muadi, has fashioned guest accommodation in her familyâs elegant three-storey home, where the 100-year-old stone walls are at least half a metre thick and arched windows line the tranquil courtyard.
Inside, every surface was covered in tatreez, traditional Palestinian embroidery. Cushions, wall hangings and chairs were lined with tiny rows of emerald, ruby and sapphire-coloured needlework.
Four year-old Shamous plays on the shell of a burnt-out go-kart
(Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
Upstairs, Murra, wearing snazzy gold shoes that gave Shamousâ pink wellies a run for their money, treated us to a fashion show. She showed us her motherâs wedding thobe, an embroidered gown in thick ebony velvet, stitched over with pink and purple threads. Such garments have been part of the region's culture for hundreds of years. Up until the mid-20th Century, a womanâs social class and hometown could be deciphered from her robe.
More dresses appeared, in cream and red, which traditionally signifies fertility when worn by a married woman.
âYou can try them on,â urged Murra. âWe show these robes to guests when they come. People are inspired and really like them.â
And try them we did, to much applause from an audience of Murraâs sisters.
We always welcome everyone, whatever their language or their religion or their culture.
But despite the fun, it was impossible to forget the conflict in this part of the world. The politics are woven into the land, and we met the people who live them.
âWe always welcome everyone, whatever their language or their religion or their culture,â Murra said as she put away her motherâs thobes. âWe like getting to know them, and learning from their cultures and customs.â
Ali Abu Khurbesh, Shamousâs father, agreed; he does not care for carving lines between Jews and Arabs, Israelis and Palestinians. âWe work with Jewish people, and we do not make any problems with them. They visit me here; we drink tea together,â he said.
âHappiness does not come through cars and offices,â Ali continued. âYou can find it everywhere, and I found it here. I am Bedouin â that is where I belong.â
Families along the trail are proud to show their slice of the West Bank to anyone who wants to see (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
As the wind whipped the sandy hills outside our tent on our final night, we wondered how Shamous will build her own identity, and what walkers on the Masar Ibrahim might see when she is big enough to fit into Murraâs gold shoes.
For now, her parents are proud to show their slice of the West Bank to anyone who wants
best wishes - C
~~~~~~
http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20170428-the-ancient-path-through-palestine
Infamous for walls and checkpoints that keep people apart, the Palestinian Territories are united by a walking trail tracing the footsteps of Abraham, the father of Islam and Judaism.
- By Lizzie Porter
Shamous is the snappiest of dressers. She matches fluorescent pink Wellington boots with turquoise leggings and a black ra-ra dress. Playing on the shell of a burnt-out go-kart, she sticks her nose in the air and grins cheekily through the desert wind.
The sparky four year old lives in Ras al-Auja in the West Bank, where Bedouin huts sit between Roman archaeological remains and tumbling waterfalls. Her mother and father are among some 25 families who welcome visitors to stay in their homes along the Masar Ibrahim al-Khalil, a 321km walking trail across the Palestinian Territories.
The Masar Ibrahim al-Khalil is a 321km walking trail across the Palestinian Territories (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
Noura Abu Khurbesh loves seeing Shamous and her three other children take a shine to guests. âThey are happy when new visitors come â they give them presents and play with them,â she said. âI want my children to know how to receive foreigners, to do this work when they grow up.â
People see this place as âThe Holy Landâ and forget the people who live here.
Snaking through the West Bank from the city of Jenin in the north to the city of Hebron in the south, the Masar Ibrahim is part of a wider project, the Abraham Path, a long-distance trekking trail celebrating the route taken through the Middle East by the man held by some as the father of Arabs and Jews.
War has stalled the path in Syria, and the route in southern Turkey passes through what is currently less-than-secure territory. But the West Bank section has been one of the most successful. Hundreds of foreign tourists and local Palestinians walk the path every year, crossing cultural and religious boundaries and breaking down stereotypes.
âPeople see this place as âThe Holy Landâ and forget the people who live here â how they live and think,â said Zaid Alazhari, the pathâs field co-ordinator around the city of Nablus, a little more than 70km north of Jerusalem. âThis is a way for Palestinians to have a choice about telling the world their story.â
Khurbesh: âI want my children to know how to receive foreigners, to do this work when they grow upâ (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
Intensely aware of the scenes of violence that dominate news coverage, Palestinians are keen for visitors to see things with their own eyes.
âMany guests have said to us that when they told their friends they were going to Palestine, they got the reply, âThere is war. That is not a good thing to doâ,â said Rand Murra, whose mother operates a homestay for walkers in the village of Kafr Malik, perched 800m above sea level 25km northeast of the city of Ramallah. âBut when they come here, I like hearing them say, âWe changed our minds, and we saw the bright side.â That is the most important thing for me.â
Over the course of three days, I, a photographer colleague and our guide wove our way south from Nablus to Ras al-Auja through olive groves and peach orchards, up rocky slopes and around field boundaries. Some were cultivated with wheat and other cereals. Others were apparently left fallow, overtaken by wild poppies and purple thorns.
The trail offers a glimpse of everyday life in the West Bank (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
Creating the path has not been a walk in the park, quite literally. Masar Ibrahimâs co-ordinating team has worked hard to develop unmarked sections of the route. Theyâve had to work around numerous obstacles, like military checkpoints operated variously by the Israel Defence Forces and the Palestinian Authority, where vehicles and travellers undergo ID checks and searches. At Awarta, south of Nablus, for example, walkers must travel an 8km section by car to bypass a major inspection point.
When they come here, I like hearing them say, âWe changed our minds, and we saw the bright side.â
Sometimes, what we saw along the way made us want to cry. All the hospitality in the world cannot deter from the sadness that afflicts these lands.
We arrived in the village of Duma, 25km southeast of Nablus, at sunset on the first day of our trek. This small community of 3,500 people was ripped apart in 2015 when 18-month-old Ali Dawabsheh and his parents were killed in an arson attack on their simple, low-slung house. The air was still filled with silent sadness.
Our guide, Anwar, was from the same clan as the victims, and he showed us the remains of the burnt home. âI always bring walkers on the Masar Ibrahim to the house. I donât like coming here, but we have to see it,â he said, looking at the ground.
The path weaves through orchards, rocky slopes and field boundaries (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
But more often than not, we were smiling. On the second day, we shared beers and anecdotes about summer nightlife with Madees Khoury, the female beer-maker at Taybeh Brewing Company. When it was established in 1994, it was the Middle Eastâs first microbrewery, located in the Christian village of its name.
âWhen people find out about our Oktoberfest, they are shocked,â Khoury laughed, explaining plans for Taybehâs annual version of the famous German beer festival. âWhen they find out that I make the beer, they are even more shocked. Iâm not your typical âgirly girlâ. I drive a forklift. I carry cases of beer. I fight with the truck drivers.â
In Kafr Malik, Murraâs mother, Misada Muadi, has fashioned guest accommodation in her familyâs elegant three-storey home, where the 100-year-old stone walls are at least half a metre thick and arched windows line the tranquil courtyard.
Inside, every surface was covered in tatreez, traditional Palestinian embroidery. Cushions, wall hangings and chairs were lined with tiny rows of emerald, ruby and sapphire-coloured needlework.
Four year-old Shamous plays on the shell of a burnt-out go-kart
(Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
Upstairs, Murra, wearing snazzy gold shoes that gave Shamousâ pink wellies a run for their money, treated us to a fashion show. She showed us her motherâs wedding thobe, an embroidered gown in thick ebony velvet, stitched over with pink and purple threads. Such garments have been part of the region's culture for hundreds of years. Up until the mid-20th Century, a womanâs social class and hometown could be deciphered from her robe.
More dresses appeared, in cream and red, which traditionally signifies fertility when worn by a married woman.
âYou can try them on,â urged Murra. âWe show these robes to guests when they come. People are inspired and really like them.â
And try them we did, to much applause from an audience of Murraâs sisters.
We always welcome everyone, whatever their language or their religion or their culture.
But despite the fun, it was impossible to forget the conflict in this part of the world. The politics are woven into the land, and we met the people who live them.
âWe always welcome everyone, whatever their language or their religion or their culture,â Murra said as she put away her motherâs thobes. âWe like getting to know them, and learning from their cultures and customs.â
Ali Abu Khurbesh, Shamousâs father, agreed; he does not care for carving lines between Jews and Arabs, Israelis and Palestinians. âWe work with Jewish people, and we do not make any problems with them. They visit me here; we drink tea together,â he said.
âHappiness does not come through cars and offices,â Ali continued. âYou can find it everywhere, and I found it here. I am Bedouin â that is where I belong.â
Families along the trail are proud to show their slice of the West Bank to anyone who wants to see (Credit: Leila Molana-Allen)
As the wind whipped the sandy hills outside our tent on our final night, we wondered how Shamous will build her own identity, and what walkers on the Masar Ibrahim might see when she is big enough to fit into Murraâs gold shoes.
For now, her parents are proud to show their slice of the West Bank to anyone who wants