Will we ever know why Israel decided to raid the Gaza aid convoy?

I thought I would wait a few days before posting anything regarding last week's situation in Israel. Partly to see how it would pan out and how the public and the media would react, and also to see how/if my initial emotive views would change.

Firstly, I am pleased to note that it appears that people are no longer afraid to criticise Israel and her policies for fear of being branded as an anti-Semite. Anti-Semitism, like any other xenophobic vitriol, is horrible, but I find it equally distasteful that it can be used as a defence mechanism for any sort of questioning as to the validity of decisions that the Israeli government makes.

What has struck me most about the whole situation is the ultra-defensive stance that Israel has taken following the incident, and indeed their confusion that anyone would question it. There have been reports of official parades celebrating the soldiers' actions, and Mr Netanyahu and his ministers have been refusing calls (though not yet officially) from Ban Ki-Moon for an international inquiry, stating that their own internal inquiry (in which no soldiers will be questioned) would be 'of international standards' and more than sufficient; the main focus will be on the legality of the blockade on Gaza and the raid on the ship, rather than if it was a reasonable or measured response. The fact that video footage from people on board the ship was confiscated by the Israeli Defence Force (IDF), and that all of the visual reports that have been released have been heavily edited and disputed by witnesses, doesn't fill me with much hope that an internal inquiry would carry any transparency or credibility.

There was also the bewildering spoof video that was made and distributed to foreign news journalists by the Israeli government press office, mocking the people on board the Mavi Marmara - nine of whom were killed by the IDF. The government has since been forced to apologise, but the fact that it was made and seen as appropriate, humorous (is humour even an attitude that an official state organisation should be taking in this instance!?) response in the first place really shocks me.

Is this a state that the international community can trust with an arsenal of nuclear weapons any more than it does Iran or North Korea?

The flotilla included an octogenarian Jewish Holocaust survivor, three German MPs, a Nobel Peace Prize winner, a distinguished author, journalists and supporters from 33 countries (including more than 40 British citizens), and a member of the Knesset, whose parliamentary privileges have since been suspended. Hardly, the collection of extremist terrorists brandishing weapons that the IDF claimed to be protecting its shores from.

The international political community has not reacted well to Israel's actions and normally cordial relations with Turkey (quite possibly Israel's only Muslim ally), for example, have been strained. Even the United States seems to be having problems defending its little cousin, seeming very cautious to either condemn or support the raid.

Obviously there needs to be a solution to this conflict, which has been ongoing since Israel's foundation after the second World War, but surely as a race we have learned by now that fighting conflict with conflict simply breeds more... well... conflict. Wasn't the establishment of organisations like the United Nations supposed to signify that we had progressed into something a bit better, where words, diplomacy and compromise (yes, compromise!) were our tools rather than tit-for-tat fighting, guns, bombs, and reckless killing?

Perhaps I'm just a young idealist. But maybe our leaders need to try a bit harder to reach that ideal.

The Leaning Tower of where...?

Arriving at Pisa’s very 70s airport from one of the day’s last flights from Barcelona, I had planned to make myself comfortable in a corner somewhere à-la Tom Hanks, before making my way into town at dawn. I have long lived by a rule that things should never be planned because they never work out as you had hoped, and this is certainly one of those instances. I guess like many other small airports, Pisa doesn’t stay open 24 hours…, so at 1am I, and about 50 others who had had the same idea were kicked out onto the pavement to sit in line with the taxis outside. Normally, this wouldn’t have caused me much grievance; I had after all spent the night on the mean streets in Bratislava only a few days previous, but that night I was so inappropriately dressed, for spending the night in the elements. And again, to be fair, the elements weren’t exactly tsunami inducing. We’re taking warm days and clear skies, but Pisa, that night took on a Sahara desert-like guise where it is warm during the day and turns frostbitingly cold at night. My shorts were too bulky to put anything else over and I haven’t quite managed to get to the stage where I can undress outside an airport, so I went into hedgehog mode and curled myself up into as tight a ball as I could and wore out the storm. The airport concourse opened again a few hours later. How dramatic. Somehow I think Ray Meyers isn’t exactly eyeing me up as his apprentice.

When the sun began to rise and I had a warmed myself with airport cappuccino (even in airports Italy makes good coffee), I decided to hop into Pisa proper – only a short train ride from directly outside the station. There is, I think, probably only one reason to visit Pisa, and I’m sure you can guess the name of the wonky pile of marble to which I refer. Pisa itself is pretty much an average Italian university town, and whilst I spent little more than a few hours there, doesn’t seem to have much to write home about. You probably could stop here for more than just to see the Tower and the beautiful square it stands in, but there are far prettier towns and villages nearby that require far more attention and have fewer coach loads of tourists stopping off for half an hour on their way to see David via Venus in Florence.

As with all of the world’s tourist hungry monuments, it is best to get to the Leaning Tower of Pisa as early as possible. For me, not only do you get to avoid the crowds, but you get to see it in the day’s best light. I also love to watch a place waken up for the day, becoming part of the crowd, before leaving when the 52nd coach from Germany/America/Japan sends its fumes down your throat or an over-eager guide whacks you with the essential leading-umbrella.

I guess like the Eiffel Tower, Taj Mahal, Rome Collesium, St Mark’s in Venice, Big Ben, The Statue of Liberty and other ‘iconic’ buildings, the Leaning Tower is one of those that sends a smile to your face or a small spinal shiver when you first lay eyes on it. It’s unavoidable. No matter how blasé one tries to be towards these things, the image is so ingrained in the mind from childhood geography books and TV travel programmes, that to see it for real completes the mental picture.

The day I was there saw blue skies with a warm sun lighting the whole square beautifully. The contrast of green grass, blue sky and white marble almost too picture perfect, and even better, I had it all to myself. The cathedral, baptistery and tower work together as a trio to seduce the eyes, and the wallet. You can pay your dues and go up the tower, but what for. As I said, Pisa is not Tuscany’s most beautiful city with the tower being its best asset, so why view the city without it? I went into the cathedral, which – even by Italian standards – is pretty special and then simply watched as the crowds started to join me. After doing the circuit a few times – taking the obligatory ‘holding up the tower’ photo for probably three score and twenty American couples, and having one taken of me for posterity, I decided to move on to Florence, still with that ‘I’ve just seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa’ smile on my face.

People always say that such places are clichés. In my mind clichés , when it comes to travel, are often clichés for a reason – they work. Most of the time anyway. And for those who come to Pisa, but want to avoid the tower, for fear of become a tourist, then there’s always the airport…

Bruges: Revel in unashamed perfection, and free chocolate if you’re lucky

I was in Bruges (or Brugges) only for a short time – as an excursion from Brussels – but it has a place as one of my favourite cities, despite the persistent rain. I had been to this UNESCO World Heritage Site before – as a 12 year old on a trip round Europe with my school. However, its beauty and character seemed to have escaped me then. To be honest, as pre-teens, we tended to do the same in each city and it didn’t really involve admiring the canals and the houses alongside them. It was about more heading to the first McDonalds and finding shops that sold ‘The Simpsons’ related paraphernalia – hardly the cultural exposé that I’m sure was intended.

In any case, this time was different. From as soon as I stepped off the train and headed towards the eponymous Market Square (Grote Markt), everything about this ‘Venice of the North’ (yes another one) sent a shiver of delight through me. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what it is about Bruges that makes it so appealing. And perhaps that is it. Whilst it is widely regarded as one of the highlights of Belgium, it doesn’t shout about it, and it is this unassuming, private character that perfects the ambiance created by the architecture and landscape. Even the rain couldn’t diminish my smile. Autumn was beginning to take hold, and the damp reds and golds drifting down from the trees into the canals complimented the situation to a tee. 

Like Venice, Bruges and its canals are marketed as a romantic place to be. This is supplemented by scores of swans, which seem to have been placed to complete the scene of overhanging willow trees, stone bridges, and the individually pointed roofs of the waterside dwellings. I breakfasted with the regulars at a café that is clearly marketed at old ladies, not that there’s anything wrong with that – old ladies appreciate good baking, and continued to explore the city. It was then that I began to wonder whether Bruges was too perfect. Added to the picture I described above came a dozen or so windmills, the Benguine convent of bell-ringing nuns, and a gothically spectacular second floor chapel that allegedly holds the blood of Christ amongst its relics. It is also in the details: the park benches are held up by dragons rather than a simple plank of wood and a charming set of net curtains embroidered with Burgeon swans in someone’s window just made my smile even bigger. What more could you ask for in a city: beauty, romance, legend, water and net curtains.

But the best is still to come. Perhaps she sensed my tight budget restraints, but as I went to buy a single chocolate, the lovely Godiva lady not only refused payment, but also handed over some other to try. Now, that is perfection.

It was then, exhausted of superlatives and a face covered in self-satisfying Belgian chocolate that I boarded the train back to Brussels. It is here, at the end of this post, that I apologise if I have made some people vomit with these 500 words of brazen optimism and loveliness. For me, Bruges, is just one of the places that calls for unashamed veneration – and why not. A return will, hopefully, surely occur - let's just hope it wasn't a one-time-wonder.