So I called the aide to a very senior member of the Palestinian Authority in Ramallah and had the following conversation in Hebrew:

Lisa: Hallo? Hassan? * Shalom, how are you? It's Lisa, we spoke last week about arranging an interview with your boss for [Major European Newspaper].

Hassan: Ah, Lisa! How are you, sweetie? Shana tova [happy new year] to you and everyone you love. May it be a sweet and good year with peace for everyone.

Lisa: Thank you so much! And happy holidays to you too. [Ramadan is starting now].

Hassan: Thank you, thank you.

Lisa: Hassan, listen, did you receive my fax with the formal request for an interview?

Hassan: Walla, I'm not sure. I'll have to check again and I will call you back, my dear. I'll call you tonight, inshallah.

Lisa: Okay, no problem. But do you think we can arrange an interview for this week? It doesn't matter where - Ramallah, Gaza, Jerusalem. Just let me know when and where and we'll be there.

Hassan: I will call you tonight and let you know. Shana tova. Be well.

This conversation is hilarious because I sent the fax nearly one month ago, following a series of phone calls that were always cut off because his mobile phone has terrible reception. He always greets me with the enthusiasm one would expect from a close friend, he always says he'll check and get back to me, he always speaks to me in fluent Hebrew, and he always wishes me good health.

The big difference between dealing with aides to Israeli politicians and Palestinian politicians is this: the Israeli aide is often brusque to the point of rudeness, but s/he gives you answers. The Palestinian aide is always warm and polite, but incredibly difficult to pin down. You've just got to be persistent.

*Not his real name.

While waiting at the Ra'em army base for the bus that would transport the media to the closing ceremony at Neve Dekalim, I fell into a conversation with an Orthodox female photojournalist who works for a right-wing Israeli newspaper. She wore the traditional female settler's garb of long, shapeless smock dress over a long-sleeved T-shirt, sandals and a scarf covering her hair.

We talked about the disengagement, which was of course over by then, and she sighed and said that it was sad, but she had come to accept it. I'm a right-winger, she said, but I think that the government was crazy to let those people move to the West Bank. First they were kicked out of Yamit, then Gush Katif, and believe me some day they're going to have to leave the West Bank. How many dislocations can they handle? What are they thinking about? It's crazy!

And then she continued:

My son lives in [the West Bank settlement of] Tekoa, and I told him not to get too comfortable there. I told him that one day, probably soon, he'll have to leave. Because I'm a pragmatist, even though I'm a right-winger and I'm religious. I'm not an extremist. I know that it's only a matter of time before the government decides to evacuate the West Bank settlements. That's just the way it's going to be.

Then she looked at me straight in the eye and said, waving her hands for emphasis,

"The fact is that the Nation of Israel [Am Yisrael] simply does not want the settlements. It just doesn't want them, and that's it. And we have to accept that."

As soon as she turned away I scribbled down the conversation so I wouldn't forget it. It was like hearing an American Christian evangelist tell me she was reconsidering her position on abortion and school prayer.

The next post will be about Gaza, and then Tokyo.