"Today we go into Arab territory to reach Bethlehem, but we don't stop at the checkpoints. Checkpoints is for Palestinians. The Palestinian cars has the different license plates, and all the Arab cars is old. That Toyota is Arab, the Lexus is Israeli."
We hurtle past the guards in their booth at the border. Two darkskinned young men stand side by side with automatic rifles over their shoulders, and they look exactly alike in their khaki uniforms except for their different colored berets. They're laughing at something one of them has just said, and their teeth are white and straight in their tanned faces.
"One is Israeli, one is Palestinian," Sol says as we speed by.
I glance back, but the dust obscures the checkpoint and the two identical young men.
