Passing through the checkpoint to Ramallah signals (as would a natural border like a river or valley) that you are entering “someplace else”.
First you are driving along a typical highway to Jerusalem, looking out over the Green Line at the Israeli settlements that line the road. Then abruptly you turn onto a torn-up one lane road. Up a small rise, and you are in a scene that is at first quite confusing.
To the right is an enclosed walkway, rather like a construction underpass, with Palestininans rushing through. They look like average people - students with knapsacks, men in suits, families - except that their eyes are down, their gait stiff and quick, and you are seeing them through barbed wire and mesh.
In front are piles of concrete blocks, stones and torn up pavement. It’s hard to tell where the road goes. To the right is the wall, half-constructed, and palettes of concrete slabs.
The soldier waved us through without much problem (”from her bat-Mitzvah, to this” said Howard). On the other side is a big lot of taxis - often passengers need to leave their taxi, walk through the checkpoint, and get another. After a bit, the road finds itself again. You pass a few abandoned buildings - and then you are in Ramallah.
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