I was supposed to go with Rinat to Ramallah yesterday. We were going to watch a football/soccer match at Stone's Cafe, hang out with a few friends and get some local colour for an article Rinat wanted to write about World Cup fever in the West Bank.

But in the end, to my regret, I had to cancel because I had an important work-related meeting with Yoda and Dalit.

Yoda, by the way, happens to be the only private investor in the controversial film Paradise Now, although he'd laugh in your face if you called him a leftist. "I'm a businessman," he says. Then he adds that he only invests in projects he believes in. Yoda is descended from an old Jewish family that has lived in this part of the world for a few generations more than a Maronite Christian friend of mine from Nazareth; her family migrated down from Lebanon about six generations ago, during the Ottoman period. Which does not, of course, mean that she is somehow less rooted here.

Yoda, Dalit and I met at Cafe Noach, where I ran into a non-Jewish Italian friend (we first met at yoga class) who lives in Tel Aviv just because he likes it here. His job requires him to travel frequently and he says it really makes no difference whether he lives in Tel Aviv or Europe. He just prefers the Tel Aviv lifestyle  -  the weather, the people, the beaches, the cafes. He can live much better here than in Europe, for far less money.

Shortly after I returned home, Rinat called. I knew that something was "up" because she spoke to me in English, not Hebrew. "Lisa, are you near a computer? Could you check and see if anything is happening in Ramallah right now?"

Sure. I clicked through all the Israeli and Palestinian news sites, but there were no news flashes.

"Nothing," I said. "Why, what's going on?"

Rinat explained that a bunch of armoured IDF vehicles had just entered Ramallah and that there was a shootout going on outside the shop in which she and her friend had taken cover. She didn't know what kind of forces they were or why they were in Ramallah. So I told her I'd call a few reporters for more information and get back to her. I tried all the Israeli reporters I knew who covered the West Bank and Gaza but they had turned their mobiles off (weird!), so I called Samer in Ramallah.

He was at home.

"Yeah," he said, smothering a yawn. "Some IDF special forces are after a couple of wanted men. They're shooting each other, one of the guys is dead and another wounded. Tell Rinat that it will be over in about 30 to 45 minutes, maximum, and that she shouldn't worry. If she needs help, tell her to call me and I'll come pick her up in my armoured car." (the car is courtesy of Samer's employer, a North American television broadcasting company).

I called Rinat back to update her and heard a couple of shots in the background while we were talking. "Don't worry," I said. "It'll be over soon. Is anybody panicking?"

"No," she said. "They are behaving exactly as we would if there were a pigua in Tel Aviv. Everyone is calm."