Keeping it real with ‘my attorney' during twilight hours in Ramallah last week, watching Youtube clips of Britpop icons on Top of the Pops, I got buzzed by an old Montreal homie, now living in the midst of the Palestinian national liberation movement. Oldskool allies in Palestinian solidarity from Uni, we always laughed at how, despite being a Palestinian-Canadian, she actually had Zionists in her posse, and how I didn't. \ Amidst the Pulp music video chorus, "you wanna live like common people," my friend told me that a mutual buddy, originally from her North American social circle, now beach parked in Tel Aviv, was coming to visit. Evidently I was "Janice's" culturally sensitive tour guide of choice, and being a freelancer on the edge of developing a new batch of stories, I was also the most available option. \ There are some unspoken rules about the obligations of internationals living in Ramallah who seek to show their understanding of the place and commitment to "the struggle." \ First off, when a curious, non-political western Jew comes to town, you have an obligation to introduce them to the Occupation. Secondly, while you only show them the international community and bar scene, you and your friends must compensate by spending all your time illustrating the inescapable visibility of apartheid. Finally, as you reinforce the recent calm of ‘normalcy' in Ramallah, you must intersperse it with explanations of the various markers to Palestinian resistance fighters on Ramallah's main streets, where Israel gunned them down. \ Rising to the call of duty, I ended the conversation to engage in a rigorous consultation session with my attorney. Still hazy the next afternoon, I jumped a Jerusalem bound bus under the cover of aviators and a blue brimmed hat to bring Janice through the other side of Jerusalem to the other side of the Wall. \ Meeting up in an alternative West Jerusalem café with the self-styled image of ‘the other Israel,' we chatted about Tel Aviv work life, learning Hebrew and how all her Israeli friends and colleagues had warned her against coming to Ramallah. "A nice blond Jewish girl like you, you'll be kidnapped for sure," Janice recalled several people saying, who - chances are - if having been to Ramallah, only did so during their military service. \ Beneath a solid layer of upper middle class North American Jewish cultural direction and self professed apolitics, Janice's instinctive belief in equality for all highlighted her latent anarchist or communist ethics. As we talked about the basis of American support for Israel being to produce a destabilizing power in the region, she blurted out "it seems like the whole mess is just being created for the benefit of rich people." \ However, the conversation eventually shifted to Janice's turn-ons including flirtatious uniformed Israeli soldiers and how - if she moved here- she felt it would be important to join the army. Janice defended the choice on the grounds of participating in the collective identity, however couldn't reconcile it with the army and government's institutionalization of an unequal and unjust society. "I always thought of the army as a personal experience and didn't think of it as taking a side like that that," she said. \ Mindset tuned to the off-kilter surrealism often required to deal with Jerusalem, we took a wander through the ultra-orthodox neighborhood of Ma'er Sherim on way to the Green Line and beyond. After having group of pint-size Hassidim hurl insults and stones at Janice for evidently not being Yenta-able enough, we left our 17th-century shtetl and crossed into occupied Palestine circa 2008, marked only by a group of bored flirting soldiers on a street corner. After seeing the usual settler speed race through the Damascus gate - where small groups of Jewish settlers hurry their way through crowded Palestinian streets as the army looks on - we jumped the bus to Ramallah. \ Getting on the small cramped green bus that operates as the main West Bank transportation source, I took on the role of informal sightseeing guide. "If you look just ahead of you you'll see a settler bus stop. You can tell by all of the white people in a Palestinian neighborhood that are being guarded by an army post," I contended as a brand new city bus pulled up at the stop. "On your left you'll see an army jeep keeping an informal checkpoint as we approach the wall," I pointed out as we passed a border guard unit. \ Crossing the wall, Janice had a blank but receptive look on her face, appearing somewhat shocked while attempting to contextualize the experience into something familiar. Arriving into Ramallah during the early hours of the evening, a fresh pizza and us headed towards my apartment roof, which looks over the valley below the city. Along the way we passed several ‘martyr memorials' - flower pots surrounded by Palestinian flags and posters of the Palestinian resistance fighters. Janice was quiet and fairly unresponsive; seemingly half taking it in while half listening. \ Darkness fully descended, the settlements formulaic lights and radio antennas were dotting the surrounding the hilltops. "They seem so close," Janice expressed in surprise as I blew smoke towards the most visible one. Finishing up, we headed out to the only bar that's open until 3:00 a.m. for my Montreal friend's birthday celebration. Although Palestinian-owned, it has an overbearing international presence that is in part due to its discriminating against most young Palestinian men arriving by themselves. \ On the way, just as I felt like I was reciting a monologue rather than chatting, Janice jumped in. "It seems like all people talk about here is the situation," she contended in frustration. I responded that because the occupation influences so many aspects of daily Palestinian life, it inevitably forms the core of many conversations in Ramallah. Approaching the bar I added that apartheid is often discussed quite differently between Internationals and Palestinians. "Internationals incessant talk about the conflict derives from the reason they're here or a desire to feel apart of Palestinian society, while for Palestinians it comes up in explanations of being late for dinner," I explained. \ Arriving into the crowded, smoky bar, top 40 pumping and most of my friends well on their way to being shit-faced, Janice soon found herself in many in-depth explanations of the daily realities Israel creates. After knocking back pints for several hours, we wandered into the quiet empty streets, and after a brief stop at the birthday girl's place, we stumbled into a taxi and home. The streets were completely empty apart from the occasional armed patrol of PA security driving past us at breakneck speeds, and the calm was quiet enough to make you feel guilty or strange for still being out. \ As usual, rising later than intended the next morning, we were left with little time before needing to get Janice back to Jerusalem so she could make it to Tel Aviv for work. Naturally combining last ditch sightseeing with severe need for caffeine, we ended up in the kitschy, partly subversive postcolonial and partly American knock-off, "Stars and Bucks." However, without even enough time to show Janice the nearby refugee camp, we soon left the popular upper class Palestinian American hangout to take the bus through the checkpoint. \ During the...