Next day, wishing all my new tourist friends and the Palestinians farewell, I climb aboard the bus to Israel.
As I board, some of the Palestinians hand me a few letters for their friends and families in Israel and ask me to deliver them when I arrive since no mail is permitted between the countries, but as the bus crosses the few miles of desert to the border I reflect that these letters, written in Arabic which I do not understand, could cause me more than a heap of trouble so I tear them up and toss the fragments out of the bus window.
As I board, some of the Palestinians hand me a few letters for their friends and families in Israel and ask me to deliver them when I arrive since no mail is permitted between the countries, but as the bus crosses the few miles of desert to the border I reflect that these letters, written in Arabic which I do not understand, could cause me more than a heap of trouble so I tear them up and toss the fragments out of the bus window.
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