google translator said

My visit to Jordan to renew my visa happened perfectly. As is often said, Bedouin are a people "incroyaaaaaaablement nice" ... apart from that they hate Arabs, abuse and die tourists no longer have land, it is quite true. I visited Petra by mule, free, I ate free, I even had a magnificent stone of Eilat, or turquoise Jordanian free. An atmosphere of anarchist country, where people are plagued by boring more than anything else. Strange combination of freedom, Islamic dictatorship and ancestral history. The return was much less ideal. The border has done so in ways, and this time far more oppressive than the airport in Tel Aviv. Questions very pesonnelles and poorly placed on religion, on my family, my beliefs in the state of Israel, short of fierce legitimacy. After a certain point of tolerance of their paranoid and their terror of Arabic, one begins to find it painful and there hell begins. Finally, 7 hours on a bench of the desert border between Jordan said Arava and Negev. These 7 long hours spent waiting literally, that one accepts me in the territory, to see German tourists spend in 5 minutes, made me miss the bus. The only bus in the afternoon which was to bring me on Jerusalem, 500 km away. Then starts the long road in the sandy wind of the National Eilat / Jérsalem. 5-hour stop, insolation, improbable encounters, ranging from instit 'proletarian disappointed by the Israeli left, the descendants of obese Americans who eat chips soaked in the juice cream butter with coca of course . I arrived in Jerusalem late and in a shock that I had not anticipated. The questioning of the Israeli police had been right in my cynicism. I was wasting my breath. I handed over my troubles with the usual fatalism. I am back in my refugee camp, in my NGO, in my house Bethhléem in occupied territories. And only then I realized that live abroad. Again I was in transit. A three-month visa in my bag, but why and for whom? This is not for nothing that I have received just returned from my trip, my mail coordinator, who said he would rethink and photo workshops established. After all, it was necessary to look at the truth in the face, it was not at all. The kids arrive late, the courses are not taught the material is not maintained, in short work of Arabic! It took 36 rdv in 24 hours, t here I am part for 6 to 8 weeks of training for adults, black room, scanning and photoshop. From the photo, the real. My personal productions accumulate, time, the taste for the editing of images, make me seriously lacking and I will be able to publish 12 books on the fertile crescent by my return to earth metropolitan. I found an abandoned kitten. I gave him milk to the syringe, I slept with 2 nights for it is hot. He died last night. I've buried under an olive tree. Today is a day I think fairly representative of what Palestine in the minds ... A heat worthy of what everyone thinks of Arab countries, olive trees are budding and Jews in the countryside to explore the lands where they will build their future settlements. At a time when I wonder about the turning point that will take my career as a volunteer, now that I did halfway and it is time to see farther, I think of writing to 'edition, to flee as well. Enough to tell, see.