Our lunch in Tubas was a traditional meal of Mansaaf - bread with rice, meat, almonds, and a yogurt sauce on top. And, we ate it traditionally - with our bare hands!

Marthame and Fr. Hossam then made the journey back to Zababdeh together, forgoing the donkeys you can hire to carry you or your bags across the destroyed road.

We cleaned up a bit, shined our shoes (to get the dust off), and headed off for the engagement party of the Anglican priest, Fr. Hossam.

The IDF is still in Beit Jala, and gun-battles are in the streets of that Christian village. Our inbox is clogged with pleas for help, to call/fax/email Israeli and American leaders and officials to stop this reoccupation and escalation of the conflict, particularly pointing out the occupation of the Lutheran church and orphanage.

Young men were gathering in trucks, red flags flying, shouting into megaphones laden with feedback. Abu 'Ali Mustafa had been assassinated just a few minutes earlier in Ramallah, and word spread like wildfire.

We had a wonderful visit, as we played with their children and listened to our friend's father-in-law regale us with his stories of living as the only Christian in various Muslim towns around the area.

Today was day one, and as happened last year, we received our new schedules we entered the school this morning.

Monday through Thursday means getting ready for school, which will start on Saturday.

It's encouraging to see continuity with good ecumenical relations.

As with any change, there is always a mixture of feelings, but for the most part there does seem to be a renewed energy and excitement to work with Abuna Aktham.

With our big backpacks and luggage, we took an extra taxi from Ramallah to the Qalandiya checkpoint and walk across along with the rest of the taxi's passengers.

It was a nice finale for our summer.

This morning was Abuna Louis Hazboun's last Mass as the Roman Catholic priest in Zababdeh.

When we arrived at Surda, we were getting out of the taxi when a tear gas canister flew overhead.

This kind of stuff gets really old once the excitement wears off, and once you’re actually going somewhere and not coming to see the action.

The village of Al-Ghayar lies just northeast of the Golan. In 1967, the Israelis assumed it belonged to Lebanon and left it alone. Instead, it had been a Syrian village and was now cut off from the rest of Syria by the Israeli presence in the Golan. Now it is under full Israeli military control and guarded by quite the bevy of troops.

The Palestinian villagers say that they left the older people of the village gathered in one house at the edge of the village since they couldn't run fast enough to escape to the hills. They returned to find them all shot and killed. The Israeli soldiers deny this part of the narrative.

While confiscation in Israel mostly stopped then, the systematic repression and control of Palestinian lands continues, mostly through zoning laws (which Arab Israelis have very little influence on).

We had learned about the bombing the way most Palestinians do - disconnected from it personally (the bomber apparently was from 'Aqaba, not far from Zababdeh, but very far from Birzeit) but living the consequences of the punishment.

Kahane's followers are essentially calling for the ethnic-cleansing of Israel of all Arabs. They have made bumper stickers that read, "No Arabs, No Terrorists" in Hebrew - in other words, you get rid of all the Arabs, you get rid of all the terrorists.

OK - we've only got a little more time in Ramallah, so we're going to make the most of it.

One of their friends who is from Birzeit came over and recounted his story of getting grazed by a bullet in the skull at the Birzeit checkpoint a few months back. Nothing like that to sober us up from our dreaming.

We caught our taxi from Damascus Gate, which is always such a Eastern cultural counterpoint to the Western feel of the New City.

Tonight there was a large Peace Now demonstration in Tel Aviv, which was calling on Sharon to stop escalating the situation, asking him to move away from war and return to the negotiating table.

Later on we connected with friends for a couple of games of cards before heading off to the Ramallah pool hall.