Thursday saw one of my rare nights out drinking in Ramallah, when me and my housemate discovered we were both free for the first time in two whole months. A new bar had opened with nibbles and minimalist décor. Despite the fact it’s not in the centre and doesn’t yet even have any signs up, giving you the feeling of just wandering into someone’s house, by the end of the night it was brimming with people. From journalists to activists, European NGO workers, Ramallah’s cool art-types and young women who looked fresh from the pages of fashion magazines – it seemed all sections of Ramallah’s small intense community were up to claim this new place as their own.
In Ramallah it is impossible to introduce anybody to anybody, as everybody already knows each other. My housemate knew my workmate, who both knew my friend, who all turned out to have lots of mutual friends, many of whom I’d already met. I think if I weren’t too antisocial and underfunded to go out here, it would quickly get pretty claustrophobic amongst the elite. I say the elite because, as diverse as this group of people might be, we are unified by sitting in a bar drinking 30-Shekel drinks (about £5.50/US$8).
