The Immigration officer is in one of about twenty little boxes, staggered in front of a barrier leading to the luggage hall, he's pale and thin, gaunt even.
"Shalom" I hand him my passport.
"Ah! An Irishman!" He's all funny uncle smiles, usually they are hostile, accusing.
"You get many today?"
"No your the first and probably the last" Then he confides."I like the Irish, much more than the English." He wrinkles his nose and nods his head side to side at the very thought.
"Yeah...Me too!".
He's flicking through the pages of my passport, I spent about 8 months in Palestine last year, my last attempt to re-enter from Egypt got me a three month visa extension with the three month bit crossed out and two weeks written in biro next to it.
"What is the purpose of your visit?"
"I'm voluntering at the Arab Americian University in Jenin. I'm a teacher." Lie
"For how long?"
"Three months" Lie
"Really, Jenin...You'll find no Bulmers* there!"
"Ha Ha - Ha Ha"
"Ha Ha- Ha Ha"
"Ha Ha - Ha Ha"
"Ha Ha- Ha Ha"
"Tell you what! I'll give you a month"
As he's stamping it, "You won't find any loyalists there either"
"Excuse me?"
"In Jenin. They're all on our side"
After another search and X-raying, I looked in my passport. He'd given me two weeks.
*Irish Cider
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