J arrived back from Nablus to find the boys cavorting around our flat, naked as usual. Rashimi ran up to him, looked him straight in the eye and shrieked 'bounce! bounce!' which was the last thing they had done together on the trampoline in Jerusalem. So Rashimi clasped J's hands with sticky digits and dragged him off to bounce on the spare bed, while the Lozenge started making 'soup' with a jar full of almonds and one of J's books about Hamas, tucked under his arm, which he explained was his 'thoup rethipe book'. And the weekend began. What a joy it was to be all together again.
J has been staying with a family in Nablus, which is a large Palestinian town on the West Bank, about 50km north of Jerusalem. The family has 8 children between 24 and 8 years old and J stayed in a small apartment above their house. When learning a language, there's nothing like living with a family and hearing it all day and all night. In some ways I could quite do with an experience like that myself, but the great thing about being married is that certain experiences, you can live vicariously. He brought me a beautiful icon hand painted in gold leaf by a Greek Orthodox priest there and it now sits above the mirror in our bedroom casting an air of serenity. When you look at the brush strokes it's as though they were done by a brush no thicker than one hair - a bit like the Pakistani miniature paintings. I've always loved the aura of an icon, and it seems an auspicious time to have one in my life.
The main population in Nablus is Muslim, but there's a Christian community there, and also a small Samaritan one. Nablus is well known for its Samaritan community as there are only about 750 people who still belong to this ancient Abrahamic religion, related closely to Judaism. The family J stayed with was Christian, which made it a bit easier to have contact with the ladies in the house. His first families didn't work out as for a lone man, finding a place to stay in more conservative Muslim communities, can be a challenge. Ironically, he would have had an easier time finding somewhere to stay, had the dwarves and I been in tow. But that's about where 'easy time' would have ended...
He will be spending another six weeks there between now and Christmas so I am looking forward to meeting the family and having some local people who we can visit and get to know in the West Bank when we're living in Jerusalem.
In the meantime, I've found a great line up of 3 or 4 Palestinian men and women in Jordan who have agreed to talk about their lives to me for my series on the Nakba. They are all in their 80s, and they include: a farmer in the Jordan valley, an embroideress, a painter who has spent his life documenting the crucial role of the Palestinian woman, and a writer/journalist/historian.
On Saturday I spent the morning filming an interview with an archaeologist who was responsible for excavating and restoring a site in one of my most favourite places in Amman. It is built on the ruins of a Byzantine church, which is presumed to be built on top of what remains of a Roman temple dedicated to Hercules. One of the most special things about the place, beyond its vital role in the Arab art scene of today, is the similar thread that all cultures who've built on the site, have used. The temple was dedicated to Hercules, renowned for his strength, the Byzantine church, constructed in the 6th Century, is thought to have been a memorial to St George, also famed for the strength that enabled him to slay the dragon. And following this, the early Islamic communities used the site to remember Al Khadr - a Muslim hero and strong man. The continuity of cult is a reminder, in our time, of how similar the roots of our belief systems really are. And, as the archaeologist pointed out, the fight of good against evil. The whole area is now part of the Darat al Funun gallery which is the subject of the documentary I'm making in slow time between now and next year.
I woke early in the morning to get to the site and set up - with grey rain clouds looming. It was the first time in four months I'd seen any, and they chose that day of all days, to appear. The rain held off until the evening, when it tumbled down for 10 minutes releasing the most wonderful damp smell from the dusty ground. The Lozenge and I watched from his window at the beauty of the rain drops through the dusk which we haven't seen since our fortnight in Scotland. But instead, the interview was interrupted by all the Saturday sounds of central Amman, including the van belonging to the man who collects and sells scrap who circled the site where I was interviewing, announcing his trade in decibels, through a loud speaker. We had to keep stopping and starting as a result, and also because of the hum of planes over head, and many other things besides. The archaeologist had to return to the US the following day so there was an increasing time pressure, and I had to grab as much as I could in a very short space of time. I am nervous about how much I'll find when I get to the editing stage - but that is always the feeling I have until I'm in it, piecing it together like one of the dusty Byzantine mosaics that still remain on the floor of the site.
J left us again on Sunday morning for a further week, and my priority now is to find someone who might help us with the dwarves when the Glammy goes to find her fortune in the US. When she told St Grace, our cleaner she was leaving in November, Grace told her she was going straight to the church after work to pray for the Glammy not to leave. But we've all had a chat, and it might be the St Grace herself might be up for a trip to the Holy Land with us in January, and next week the Glammy is going to see if she considers her skills with children as adequate enough for the dwarves, for whom she says feels quite a deep sense of responsibility, having shared their first stint in the Arab world these last 8 months.
J has been staying with a family in Nablus, which is a large Palestinian town on the West Bank, about 50km north of Jerusalem. The family has 8 children between 24 and 8 years old and J stayed in a small apartment above their house. When learning a language, there's nothing like living with a family and hearing it all day and all night. In some ways I could quite do with an experience like that myself, but the great thing about being married is that certain experiences, you can live vicariously. He brought me a beautiful icon hand painted in gold leaf by a Greek Orthodox priest there and it now sits above the mirror in our bedroom casting an air of serenity. When you look at the brush strokes it's as though they were done by a brush no thicker than one hair - a bit like the Pakistani miniature paintings. I've always loved the aura of an icon, and it seems an auspicious time to have one in my life.
The main population in Nablus is Muslim, but there's a Christian community there, and also a small Samaritan one. Nablus is well known for its Samaritan community as there are only about 750 people who still belong to this ancient Abrahamic religion, related closely to Judaism. The family J stayed with was Christian, which made it a bit easier to have contact with the ladies in the house. His first families didn't work out as for a lone man, finding a place to stay in more conservative Muslim communities, can be a challenge. Ironically, he would have had an easier time finding somewhere to stay, had the dwarves and I been in tow. But that's about where 'easy time' would have ended...
He will be spending another six weeks there between now and Christmas so I am looking forward to meeting the family and having some local people who we can visit and get to know in the West Bank when we're living in Jerusalem.
In the meantime, I've found a great line up of 3 or 4 Palestinian men and women in Jordan who have agreed to talk about their lives to me for my series on the Nakba. They are all in their 80s, and they include: a farmer in the Jordan valley, an embroideress, a painter who has spent his life documenting the crucial role of the Palestinian woman, and a writer/journalist/historian.
On Saturday I spent the morning filming an interview with an archaeologist who was responsible for excavating and restoring a site in one of my most favourite places in Amman. It is built on the ruins of a Byzantine church, which is presumed to be built on top of what remains of a Roman temple dedicated to Hercules. One of the most special things about the place, beyond its vital role in the Arab art scene of today, is the similar thread that all cultures who've built on the site, have used. The temple was dedicated to Hercules, renowned for his strength, the Byzantine church, constructed in the 6th Century, is thought to have been a memorial to St George, also famed for the strength that enabled him to slay the dragon. And following this, the early Islamic communities used the site to remember Al Khadr - a Muslim hero and strong man. The continuity of cult is a reminder, in our time, of how similar the roots of our belief systems really are. And, as the archaeologist pointed out, the fight of good against evil. The whole area is now part of the Darat al Funun gallery which is the subject of the documentary I'm making in slow time between now and next year.
I woke early in the morning to get to the site and set up - with grey rain clouds looming. It was the first time in four months I'd seen any, and they chose that day of all days, to appear. The rain held off until the evening, when it tumbled down for 10 minutes releasing the most wonderful damp smell from the dusty ground. The Lozenge and I watched from his window at the beauty of the rain drops through the dusk which we haven't seen since our fortnight in Scotland. But instead, the interview was interrupted by all the Saturday sounds of central Amman, including the van belonging to the man who collects and sells scrap who circled the site where I was interviewing, announcing his trade in decibels, through a loud speaker. We had to keep stopping and starting as a result, and also because of the hum of planes over head, and many other things besides. The archaeologist had to return to the US the following day so there was an increasing time pressure, and I had to grab as much as I could in a very short space of time. I am nervous about how much I'll find when I get to the editing stage - but that is always the feeling I have until I'm in it, piecing it together like one of the dusty Byzantine mosaics that still remain on the floor of the site.
J left us again on Sunday morning for a further week, and my priority now is to find someone who might help us with the dwarves when the Glammy goes to find her fortune in the US. When she told St Grace, our cleaner she was leaving in November, Grace told her she was going straight to the church after work to pray for the Glammy not to leave. But we've all had a chat, and it might be the St Grace herself might be up for a trip to the Holy Land with us in January, and next week the Glammy is going to see if she considers her skills with children as adequate enough for the dwarves, for whom she says feels quite a deep sense of responsibility, having shared their first stint in the Arab world these last 8 months.
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