The Most Expensive Bus In The World

PICS FROM TOP TO BOTTOM
1) Ambulances idling at the RBC checkpoint, despite Palestinian calls for medical aid
2) Yours truly, in front of the destruction that was once a beautiful courthouse building.
3) Dozens of refugees lining up at the RBC (there were more, but there's only so much you can do with a phone camera!)



Yesterday, I had the dubious honour of riding on what is probably the most expensive bus in the world. We left our hotel in El-Arish bright and early and were at the Rafah Border Crossing (RBC) checkpoint by 9am. With all our papers in order, we thought it would just be a matter of flashing the RBC guards our pearly whites and waltzing through to Palestine.
How wrong we were. By the time we arrived, there were already more than a hundred people waiting there, with bags, boxes and suitcases.
Nearby, trucks with medical supplies were standing by to be allowed in as well.
And so the wait began. As the desert sun creeped across the sky, the night chill began to dissipate and the arid surroundings began to grow baking hot.
Not having had breakfast, we contributed generously to the cottage industry set up by enterprising Egyptians, who were selling hot tea, bottled water, dates, nuts and other tiny bites.
In all, we were made to sweat it out - both literally and figuratively - for more than three hours before the gates were finally opened at 12.30pm, but not before the border officials made us run back to town and make photocopies of our passports and letters from the Egyptian Information Ministry.
You'd think it was smooth sailing after that, but nooooooo. Once inside, we had to pay 2 Egyptian Pounds each to buy stamps for our documents and then made to wait another two hours while Immigration officials dilly-dallied over our exit from the land of the Pharaohs.
Language was a major issue, with only one member of our party speaking Arabic fluently enough to be understood (note to self: take up Arabic lessons when I get back). We also noticed many ambulances idling there and wondered why they were not being used despite the calls for more medical supplies and services.
And then came the most expensive bus in the world.
It was a rackety old thing, worse than the worst Malaysian stage bus you can possibly imagine. Guess how much it cost? 121EP! That's almost RM80. But, what to do? Pay-lah!
And so, the journey began. And stopped 3 minutes later. We had paid the 121EP for a 500m ride lasting all of three minutes to the Palestinian entry point! What a scam!
Ironically, Palestine, a country in chaos, processed our documents in a fraction of the time that the annoying Egyptian bureaucrats took and we were ready to hit the road by 4pm.
We piled into three ancient by roomy yellow Mercedez-Benz taxis and left for Gaza City. (The drivers in this part of the world would give Lewis Hamilton a run for his money! I've lost count of the number of times we all screamed like little girls when staring into the headlights of oncoming trucks.)
The signs of war were almost immediately visible. Bullet holes pockmarked many of the buildings like acne on an awkward teen and bigger holes, probably made by rockets, punctured many of the structures.
That being said, we were struck by how verdant and fertile the land around us was. On our left and right, as we made our way out of Palestinian Rafah, through Khan Younis and into Gaza City, we could see green fields, orange groves and rows upon rows of neatly planted vegetables.
Flocks of dirty sheep lined the roads and donkeys leisurely pulled carts on the roads, heedless of the furious honking behind them.
We were actually in a war zone?
Yes. As we neared the city, the destruction became more apparent. Roads, previously nicely paved with tar, began to get worse and the green fields began to be replaced by mounds of sand and earth.
Apartment blocks sported huge gaping holes and scorch marks.
We passed the Ministry of Education and right beside it saw the massive ruins of a huge building, which we learnt was a courthouse.
The once magnificent edifice (a local showed us a picture of it as it had once been) had been reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble, with only its marble arches, now lying on their side, testament to what was previously an imposing structure.
Destroyed by rockets fired from Israeli vessels at sea, the obliterated courthouse was a poignant reminder of how Israel has been ignoring international pressure and the rule of law in this cruel and one-sided war.
As we resumed our journey, seeking digs for the night, we saw other examples of destruction. Houses, mosques, public buildings all shared the same fate.
The destruction seems almost surgical in its precision. Untouched buildings stand next to those that have been totally annihilated.
If they can be so accurate in their destruction, how is it that the Israelis got their intel so mixed up on so many occasions, as they claim, and killed so many civilians?
We were also told that four fishermen had been injured today by Israeli gunfire out at sea.
We finally reached our hotel in time to witness a brilliant orange Mediterranean sunset. Our hotel room is comfortable, much more so than the place we stayed in at Rafah or Cairo.
But, as I looked around for the source of the odd chill in the room, I found that our windows had been shot out and replaced with plastic sheets.
So much for a semblance of normalcy.