Ramat Gan, Israel

Picture this: you are enjoying time with your kids on a crowded playground when suddenly you look up to see the friendly crowd around you has been quietly moving away from you. Something has changed. The happy faces have turned to blanks. Instead of that smile of recognition of common "mom" purpose, other moms are now eyeing you suspiciously. Kids are whispering, hanging back. As a friend put it, "It's like that moment at the bar when you realize everyone else is just a little too drunk". This could go either way.

We went to an Israeli playground in Ramat Gan. I don't want to exaggerate the experience because after all, nothing actually happened. Most of what went on was like an undercurrent, so it had a big impact on a mental/emotional level, but technically everything was just fine.

The weeks before the trip to Israel were difficult. Some of those weeks I wished I could pack up and go. I have been housebound A LOT. The playgroup failed and I canceled it, the friends I've made have gone home for their summers, the house was disorganized, the kids were both going through something that made them grumpy, I had aggravated a back injury...anyway, rough weeks. I reached out to a woman here whom I had met only twice but who I like a lot. She is one of those people who always has a solution and she's very confident about it. She also has 2 kids the same ages as my 2. She is palestinian with a Jerusalem ID which means she retains the right to enter Israel as a Palestinian by maintaining a Jerusalem address and paying taxes there (more on that later). She has recently moved back to Ramallah from abroad and she has a similar perspective to mine on how difficult things are here for young kids.

She says that going to Jerusalem to partake of the clean, modern amenities (like green grass, water, excellent playscapes, zoos, clean food, kiddie museums, good healthcare) is the way she gets by. In her words, there is nothing for kids inRamallah, "it's all crap."

But to get to Jerusalem you have to have a yellow plated car and if you are stopped you'd better have the right stamp in your passport. I currently have this and she has the yellow plated car of a Jerusalemite. At her insistence, following a tearful and desperate phone call from me in which she correctly diagnosed me as depressed and in need of some new ideas, I was convinced to go with her to a playground in Jerusalem. I have been rather desperate.

But I knew it would not be easy, and it is the desperation that won me over.

We had to cram into her car as mine is not permitted in Israel. That meant Sufyan rear-facing in a toddler seat in the FRONT SEAT of her Jeep. Her 2 kids were in their seats in the back, and Laila was IN MY LAP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BACK SEAT. We didn't even have a seatbelt. I told you I have been desperate. Nothing but sheer exhaustion of other options could have put us in this situation. But before you forgive me, let me tell you about the roads: small, windy, unkempt until Israel where they become fast highways of aggressive drivers. No, no excusing me.

We made it to the park. It was an incredible park and play area. Ducks, waterscapes, greenery, a restaurant and snack bar, acres of play space. Women were wearing what they wear in America: tank tops, shorts, tattoos. I haven't seen that much skin in 5 months! Not a hijab in sight (just to set the scene, I've no problem with hijab and actually think they are pretty most of the time). We got to the actual playground and I am not exaggerating to say it seemed space age to me. There was a recycling bin out front. RECYCLING, people. I was thrilled! The playground was permanently tarped from inclement weather and sun. It was very safe, very clean, and very full of happy kids. Here is a picture:

(Laila can keep up with the big boys on the trampoline)

We had so much fun despite the heat and despite the fact that I was nervous being surrounded by a hostile country. It turned out that as long as they assumed I was American, I was fine. Kids came up to us, shared toys with us (notably there were about 3 Plasma Cars and 5 SuperMopis. Rich kid toys--not Ramallah toys).

(awesome swings)

But when people got the idea where we were from they got visibly uncomfortable right away. They stood back, moved away like we smelled bad. They literally moved away from us. A man handed out treats to some kids, but not Sufyan who DID notice and was asking me why he couldn't have one (well, that actually was fine with me. Candy from a stranger, after all.)

After meeting a lot of eyes and some of them not at all friendly, we decided to leave. It was getting late anyway.

The park is so big that we got lost trying to find the exit. By the time it was time to go, my friend's child wasn't feeling well and the poor kid was refusing to walk. We didn't have a stroller, so we were up a creek because we each had our hands full of our 18 month olds. We had to ask for directions, and some people refused to give us directions even though we were in an obviously bad predicament. They sort of looked through us when we tried to stop them. We were walking with heavy diaper bags, carrying 1 baby each and each with a toddler in tow (1 who was toddler who was collapsing into a heap on the ground every 2 steps due to illness). It was a bit of a fiasco and surely it was obvious we were in need of help. One man did stop and at first he was reservedly friendly. But it was odd: the longer he talked, the more his face changed. He gave us shorter, ruder answers. And then he just walked away mid explanation. It seemed as though he sort of placed us as he talked to us, finally knowing we were from the "other side" and once he knew he got a sour expression and just ditched.

Eventually out of options and still towing kids who were less and less agreeable, we split up and I literally ran through the park with Laila while Sufyan stayed behind with my friend and her 2 kids. I found her car, then I found a pizza delivery guy with english enough to tell me how to find my way to the other end of the park where I could pick up the rest of my expedition. I put Laila in the front car seat and drove off onto strange roads with signage all in Hebrew...I luckily am good with directions because I know exactly zero Hebrew. oh, and I cannot legally drive in Israel...

While I was getting the car an old man sat down to flirt with my friend (who is, did I mention, beautiful). He stayed until he found out she was Palestinian. Then he got up and left.

Now, I know none of this is a shock. Palestine and Israel are not happy neighbors. There is a lot of hatred on both sides. Of course people moved away. Of course there is suspicion. Of course we were treated like untouchables. Its just that I had my kids with me. My babies. And I am not a bad person. Nor do I smell bad. Nor did I come to Israel for any other reason than a day out with my kids and old fashioned curiosity. Have you ever seen Ramat Gan?

But while this experience is old hat for some, I have never felt like this before. Wanting to hide my identity yet feeling compelled to stand in opposition to the racism and fear. Playing with my children should feel and be innocent enough, yet I had to shield them from the strangers who hated them just knowing they were Palestinian.

It felt awful. I wanted a day out for my kids (who mostly loved it, by the way.) I wanted them to have a day without trash and broken things.

I was so relieved to return to Palestine! I literally breathed a deep sigh of relief when we crossed the line under the yellow sign in Hebrew announcing that we were entering Palestinian territory.

(sunset over Tel Aviv as we drive home)

I was happy to see the pot holes, the mangy cats, the donkeys roaming the streets, the kids up way past bedtime playing near the street, the old women in their traditional garb carrying parcels on their heads, the insane traffic with no rules....what a relief to be "home".

And no surprise, Laila (who nursed constantly on the car ride and certainly knew I was stressed out by the trip) took her time to fully decompress from the strange experience. She was acting very upset and easily put off balance for the 2 days after.

It didn't help that we actually got lost INSIDE the 2nd largest Israeli settlement

(called Ma'ale Adumim here is a pic I took)

on the way home and had to ask a police officer for directions out of the damn place.