The car stopped a kilometer away from the Erez terminal. A barrier blocking the road and prevent to move further. Our companion (two of us, me and the surgeon in Hong Kong) takes us up to become a container prepared in the office next to the bar. Palestinian police check our passports and check that our names are on the list of people that day to leave the Strip. I greet our tour. "Are you happy to come home?" he asks. "No, I'm a bit 'sad." "Why?" "I want to stay here a while '...." Ride. "I am sad because I would go potermene but neither I nor my family can get out of here." We embrace. We load the backpacks on their shoulders and begin to walk km on the road that day was probably paved. Around the total devastation, most of the houses is not even the outline. Ahead of us the wall of 12 meters. We come to a passage formed by two walls of reinforced concrete. A first gate with an intercom. We play. A few minutes later the gate opens and we go on. A second step, this time protected by wire mesh. A half a turnstile of iron. We get right to the source wall. An iron door with the cameras. The instructions are to make us see the cameras, waving to our observers. After fifteen minutes, the iron door opens. We enter the terminal. A corridor with three iron turnstiles. On each a red light and one green. Are on only the red ones. Expect that one of the lights turn green and move on. We go into a room where I finally meet a person. He works for the Israelis, but Palestinians. No Israeli in the flesh you would find here. We support our bags on a table and open them. A camera on the ceiling examine them. Ok. Continue. We enter a corridor. There are bathrooms. Our manager had suggested we take advantage of it. We take this opportunity. Down the hall again turnstile of iron. Intercom. Red light. Green light. Another assistant will provide two trays of 80 square cm per side. In an all electronic devices and electrical we have, including credit cards, luggage and all the other metal accessories. Wait 15 minutes for the machine in which the trays are placed where they eat. One by one we enter into a cylindrical cabin. A voice through a loudspeaker warns us to keep his hands up. In front of us, above, can be glimpsed through the windows of the Israeli officials who control procedures. The cabin is closed, a scanner rotates around the body. You reopen the car from the opposite side from where we entered. Pound. Red light, green light. We find our electronic items. Harvesting and processing them. Last gate. We enter a room. Our luggage was on a table, completely open. An official with gloves examine them. Smiles when he sees the cookies Palestinians in the cardboard box. "You know you can not take them?" "No, I did not know ...." "Remember at the airport to put them in the hold." Ok, thanks. "Up to this point has gone over an hour. Passport control. The official is a little girl. She sits in her glass booth. I the I stand up. Start to browse the passport. The usual questions. "Who is it? What does it do? Why was it in Gaza? Where is it headed? Where will I stay in Jerusalem? When again for Italy? Your email? His cell phone number? (Rugo not make stupid comments that the time is dramatic!). This stamp in the passport? "" South Sudan. Last year. Mission. You know, Sudan is divided into north and south, I was at the Christian .... "He smiles. See the links. Call." I have a letter from my NGO that certifies that I have been in Sudan for humanitarian reasons. "You see the again. After 20 minutes. "Excuse me, but the problem is Sudan?." "Yes." "Look, I had the same timbre even when I arrived in Tel Aviv, and when I returned to Israel from Taba three weeks ago and I had no problems "(false: The first time blocked for two hours, the second for five). He smiles and says" Yes, but now he was also known in Gaza and Gaza more ... Sudan ... "Of course, how stupid ..." Sit down there. "After 30 minutes I recall. Ok, I can go! Seen for two months. "Can I return to Israel in the future?" "Sure," he says. Perhaps, however, change of passport ... Since the beginning of snakes and ladders have been two and a half hours. It must be said that no one is rude. They are meticulous, but only follow the procedures. One can well understand, have the right to protect themselves. I do not dispute this. I'm just saying that a place from which only some can go out, and not too easily, in my house it's called prison. PS: The best informed say that beauty comes tomorrow when I'll have to take the flight from Tel Aviv to return to Italy ...! Arrival in the evening at the airport.
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