Motorbiking Palestine (feeling like Che Guevara in his diaries)
Last week I got up at 6:30 am to bike to Shuafat (a neighbourhood in East Jerusalem) and catch a VIP ride (thru a diplomatic checkpoint) to Ramallah. At 9 am I met Bassam Almohor, a Palestinian tour guide, author, photographer and video-maker. We hadn’t planned anything, I just knew it would be a motorbike tour.
“What about following the Green Line (the pre-1967 border or 1949 Armistice line) up north?” Bassam hands me an Italian helmet (great touch) and we’re ready to roll.
Lessons learned:
Don’t assume you know enough about the ‘topography of the occupation’
I thought I had done my homework. I lived previously in Jerusalem; I’ve visited the West Bank several times; I read quite a lot. My visual brain is equipped with: 1) the map with the Green Line separation, Israel on the left, Palestine on the right; 2) the knowledge of the area A (Palestinian cities), B (Palestinian villages and towns) and C (Israeli settlements and military areas) that make up the West Bank (check out this map of the West Bank). So when Bassam suggested seeing the separation wall, my very first reaction was “uh, done it already”. Luckily my hubris disappeared quickly and I said “Sure”.
Now: being on the road really makes a difference.
You realize how tiny the country is; how the beautiful landscape is punctuated by villages (a mosque, black water towers), settlements (red tile roofs) and illegal hilltop outposts; you begin to grasp the crazy maze of fences separating Palestinians from Israelis (it’s rarely a concrete wall, but cameras and sensors are very visible); you see the contrast between the roads (above) connecting the Israeli settlements and the roads and tunnels (below) connecting the Palestinian towns and villages, running underneath the settlements (the latter roads are not very recommended during the rain season as you can get flooded and even die). Many Palestinian villages are connected to the settlers’ roads, so we could ride on them. But Bassam explained that villages might have a gate at the entrance, and inhabitants can be locked in for security reasons.
I’m not trying to provide any analysis. Far from it. I’m just stating that motorriding opens your eyes.




You might have a Paypal account, but Palestinians have a Palpay one
How do you pay your bills electronically and recharge your phone “with ease, convenience and security” especially if PayPal is not available in your country? With Palpay!
Some Christians are very welcoming, some are not
We passed through Emmaus-Al-Qubeiba where Jesus appeared before two of his disciples, actually one of the 3 claimed Emmaus in the Holy Land…. anyway. We wanted to visit a Catholic monastery but the nun who was coming out of it made it very clear we were not welcome.
Opposite experience: in the village of Aboud an elderly woman opens the church just for us. It’s a Greek Orthodox church dedicated to the Dormition of the Virgin Mary (she did not die, she fell asleep… didn’t you know?), with very interesting building and sculptural elements that show its Byzantine and Crusader past.


Not only olive trees and old stones. The future is now, here as well.
Before entering any Palestinian town you always see a variation of this sign: dangerous, forbidden or not available (not sure what ‘not available’ means) to Israeli citizens.
But NOT outside the model-city of Rawabi, a Palestinian development town in mildly grandiose Emirati style. Founded by a wealthy Palestinian with Qatary capital, it promises to bring the hyper-manicured city’s population to 40,000; house tech companies (Israeli ones as well); and be synonymous with innovation, sustainability and entertainment. At the moment it looks pretty much like a ghost town but has a 15,000-seat open-air Roman theater in which I performed ‘Va Pensiero’ (Nabucco, opera by Giuseppe Verdi). My audience was made of 3 security guards, who left very quickly.

Enjoy your motorbike-related uniqueness
Almost everybody, from oldies to kids, stares at us as we ride by… as if they’ve never seen a woman on the backseat of a motorbike! Well, that’s extremely probable (and in general there are very few bikers in the West Bank). Some of them smile or offer a friendly wave, others just show their bulging eyes.
If you need a pee stop, pester the locals
Bassam takes me to an Ottoman throne-village to visit Suhweil palace (under renovation). We checked the centuries-old locks of the big wooden doors; we walked on the rooftops and admired the panorama; we praised the carved shelves in the rooms… but I really need to pee. I look around in search of a suitable place, but Bassam starts knocking at the doors of neighbors and asks if I can use the hamam (Arabic for bath — unfortunately not Turkish bath). I’m a bit embarrassed (would you knock at some door in Europe or America to ask to use the toilet?) but not the targeted family: a kid signals where the bathroom is, and I leave Suhweil in better shape.
Welcome to Chicago
We drove through a couple of towns (some ghost ones, some more lively ones) where, especially in the summer, the majority of inhabitants are Palestinian-Americans. These guys are very wealthy; some of them build luxurious palaces but not necessarily finish them…. their children might do it, Bassam explains. We stopped to buy water and cigarettes at a supermarket in Turmus ‘Ayya, and we had a chat with the cousin of the owner. He’s from Chicago and whatever I say, he replies back with ‘Really?’ (Maybe a Chicago thing?). He tells us that half of the 3500+ residents of Turmus ‘Ayya are from Chicago!
There’s nothing better than a local beer when you’re tired and sweaty
Our final stop was Taybeh, a (mainly) Christian village famous for its family-owned micro brewery (the first in the Middle East). They were about to close, but we got a tour and a taste of their new delicious white beer. Taybeh is also exported abroad, I wish them best of luck!
In sum…
This is a map of my incredible 150 km motorbike tour (courtesy of Bassam), mainly in the Ramallah and al-Bireh Governorate. And below more pictures I took on the road.
Once home, I realize that my shoulders are scarlet and that I walk in an awkward way (my bum was sitting on a not very wide seat for at least 6 hours). But who felt anything on the bike? I’m dead but also the happiest person ever. And I have a new friend.
I highly highly highly recommend Bassam if you want to tour the West Bank, on any form of transportation — but on a motorbike it’s the best: almohor@gmail.com. He’s also a bit nuts and totally unboring.
Originally published at themanurennt.wordpress.com on September 9, 2018.
