The scheme – which has transformed Riyadh’s main Wadi Hanifah watercourse from a polluted dumping ground into a showpiece array of lakefront parks and water recycling – won the award, and the magazine, Saudi Aramco World, ran my story in their Jan/Feb 2012 issue under the title “A Wadi Runs Through It”. Click here to read it.

I also developed the theme elsewhere, including for the BBC, who broadcast my radio script today in the From Our Own Correspondent strand (audio begins 11’40″) and repackaged it as a news story here.

Wadi Hanifah astounds from just about every angle. In environmental, engineering, design and architecture terms it is groundbreaking: conception, execution and finishing are immaculate from beginning to end (PDF 3MB). And in terms of urban planning, economics, social development and even global diplomacy, Wadi Hanifah provides a fascinating commentary on the priorities and mindset of the Saudi government, not least on its deployment of resources. Riyadh gains this billion-dollar redevelopment while the sewers in Jeddah overflow, people continue to live in poverty and human rights are severely restricted. As I mention in the BBC story, “greenwash” is playing its part.

The wadi’s role in Saudi history, and the fact that this physical link between Dir’iyyah and Riyadh – evoking Ibn Abdul-Wahhab and Ibn Saud – has had such attention lavished on it is also no coincidence.

Yet at least the project’s existence is allowing these issues to be aired – and, ultimately, the people of Riyadh get to enjoy the benefits over their barbecues every weekend. Each babystep towards progressive social integration, however left-field, should be welcomed.

The story’s big takeaway is that environmental conservation is not just about birds and animals, but society as a whole. It is healthy, in every sense of the word. And in tourism terms, how many Middle Eastern capitals have a 50km-long nature trail running through them? I’d love to return to Riyadh and do a story on slow travel, taking a couple of days to cycle through Wadi Hanifah from one end of the city to the other without once venturing onto asphalt. Anyone care to join me?

Thrilled and delighted this weekend to have another piece on BBC radio’s From Our Own Correspondent, after ones earlier this year on Saudi Arabia and Cairo. This time I’m talking about Jerusalem’s new Light Rail.

Article transcript is here.

Audio is here.

And there’s a bit of background about how From Our Own Correspondent is put together here (8min audio).

The piece as aired was edited slightly and cut down to fit the running time. Here’s the original, as submitted.

My favourite Cairo graffito of the moment, spotted this week on an underpass in the leafy residential quarter of Zamalek, is ‘Il-Tahrir fee Midan il-Tahrir’, or “Liberation in Liberation Square”. But it’s when you go walking in the square that it becomes increasingly clear different people have different ideas of what liberation might mean.

Tahrir is less of a square than a ramble of grassy islets flanking a roundabout that is normally marooned in a sea of honking traffic. Now, though, traffic is barred. In its place, gaggles of men (and it is mostly men) gather at points around the square to debate the revolution, in a high-octane, high-stakes version of Speakers’ Corner in London.

“I was here!” shouts one muscle-bound character in a plaid shirt, leaning forward and beating his chest in a declaration of revolutionary authenticity. “I was here on January 25th [which was the day the anti-Mubarak protests began]. But these people here now” – he points over to the ragtaggle groups of protesters on the Tahrir roundabout, bedecked in banners – “they’re all just druggies.”

The little crowd which has gathered around him shifts and mutters. And then, in an expert piece of rhetoric which throws a spotlight onto every enemy lurking in the minds of his audience, the speaker delivers his coup-de-grace.

“These junkies,” he says, “They’re all on Twitter and Facebook, dealing drugs. Al Jazeera says that THAT” – and he gestures at the roundabout again – “is our revolution. No! Those people are the counter-revolution! The army must take charge!”

Beside me, protester and social media activist Amr El Beleidy laughs. Psychological warfare, he calls it, before telling me how 100 Egyptian pounds – roughly ten pounds sterling – can buy the services of a rabble-rouser for a day to poison hearts and minds on Tahrir Square.

Well over six foot, with a clump of fair curly hair and a grin wider than his ears, Amr cuts an unlikely figure, strolling amiably across the square as if on a country ramble. With an engineering degree from University College London, and a masters from Imperial College, Amr straddles two worlds. I met him first on Twitter, months before shaking his hand in real life.

Even now, as we walk, he is snapping photos on his phone for later upload. But, in the uncertainty of post-revolutionary Cairo, informants and counter-revolutionary spooks have free rein. A mustachioed character steps in front of us, holding up a phone as if videoing our faces. I duck away, and Amr challenges him.

“What are you doing?”

The man scowls, and mutters, “I’m doing what you’re doing. Taking pictures.”

I later discovered that Amr posted an image of the man’s face onto Twitter, to warn other protesters.

Yet, as so often happens in Egypt, Tahrir also overturns prejudices. When a shabby-looking man with a limp blocked our path and held up a newspaper, I thought “Here we go again”, expecting an argument.

He asked us what the headline was. Amr read it aloud. The man nodded thoughtfully, then jabbed his finger at another headline. Then another.

He couldn’t read. But he wanted to be part of the revolution. So, rather than rely on rumour and street gossip, this man had come to Tahrir to find out for himself what the media were really saying. The newspaper was the privately-owned daily Al Masry Al Youm, the opposition’s favourite read.

Blocking access to reliable information is the first weapon in any autocrat’s arsenal. But that rubs both ways. Amr brought up the fear – among Westerners in particular – of the rise of Islamist parties in Egypt – particularly the Salafis, who advocate a return to an older, stricter form of Islam.

“But these Salafis are like the BNP in Britain,” he said. “You remember all that fuss about inviting the BNP onto Question Time? But it just showed everybody how irrelevant the BNP were. It’s the same here. Mubarak tried to crush the Salafis, but he just drove them underground. He gave them power. Now Mubarak has gone, so they are speaking – but most people aren’t listening. They don’t want them.”

Out on the square, gangs of boys are jostling to gurn into TV cameras, while fifty yards away shouts rise as an argument spills over into shoving. Teenage lads buzz to and fro on gleaming motorbikes, weaving dangerously between pedestrians, apparently just showing off to each other.

Control of Tahrir Square has become a cipher, indicating control of the nation’s political future. But, as one Egyptian journalist tweeted this week, the revolution is more than Tahrir. The story of Egypt’s liberation has a way to go yet.

The researcher and I exchanged emails and had several long chats on the phone – she asking me about the logistics of travel across the Middle East and possible points of interest for a driving show, me bending her ear at length about how wonderful the region is and throwing lots of ideas at her about how and where the trip might run.

I can’t remember whether it was her or me who mentioned the idea of the show following the route of the Three Wise Men, travelling from “the East” to Bethlehem. But it was probably her. Almost certainly her. I mean, let’s face it, it must have been her. Must have been.

Anyway, so there were more emails, and more long phone calls (“I wondered if you would be free for a chat about the Golan Heights?” “Do you know if it’s possible to drive through the West Bank now?”), and I passed on specialist contacts in Jordan, in Palestine, I sent her links for theories of where the Three Wise Men originated – perhaps Iran, perhaps elsewhere – I explained what frankincense and myrrh are, and where they come from… the whole thing. We got on alright, I thought.

Perhaps I was naive in freely sharing knowledge without fixing terms, or without discussing the possibility of being involved in the show (or at least being acknowledged somehow).

Perhaps she thought I was doing it for the love of the Middle East, or because she thought images of Clarkson in the desert would instantly cause a soaring rise in sales of my Rough Guide to Jordan, thereby recompensing me through vastly increased royalty payments at no cost to the licence-fee payer.

Either way, the emails stopped in May, and I heard nothing more.

Then, this appeared: a Top Gear Christmas special, broadcast on 26th December, centred on a trip whereby Clarkson, Hammond and May follow the route of the Three Wise Men, travelling from “the East” (Iraq) to Bethlehem, via Turkey, Syria, Jordan and Israel, with attempted detours via Iran (not possible with a BBC crew), across the Syrian desert, and into the Golan Heights.

Iraqi Kurdistan came off rather well, with lots of epic scenery and enthusiasm about the friendliness of the people. Turkey was portrayed as shabby and dangerous. Syria seemed rather fun. Jordan was dismissed as a basket-case. Israel was glossed over, and Palestine didn’t exist – we saw nothing of Bethlehem. Top Gear’s not my favourite show, and I’m the wrong demographic, but all that burqa-wearing stuff struck me as particularly stupid.

And, of course, I got no credit. Perhaps I’m over-estimating my input, perhaps my info was utterly tangential, but I think that stinks. Sour grapes? Of course it’s sour grapes. I’m wallowing in sour grapes. They chewed me up and spat me out.

I’ll leave you with an email from me to the Top Gear researcher, dated 1st February 2010:

hi again
Struck me over weekend that this might also be of interest:
http://jerashchariots.com
Can just imagine the 3 of them racing, Ben Hur-style, around the Roman hippodrome…

On the right is a still frame, taken from the sequence where the 3 of them race, Ben Hur-style, around the Roman hippodrome at Jerash, Jordan.

Great idea, BBC.

Peter Hill, Oman Air CEO

Oman Air is quietly working wonders. From a standing start in 2007, when Oman pulled out of the then-multicountry Gulf Air to focus on developing its own national carrier, the airline has gained a reputation for excellence, even while facing down competition from the ‘big three’ Gulf carriers, Emirates, Etihad and Qatar Airways. Peter Hill, appointed CEO in 2008, was one of the original founders of Emirates in the 1980s and previously ran Sri Lankan Airlines. He spoke to me on 9 November 2010 at World Travel Market in London; below are edited extracts of the interview.

Matthew Teller: What makes Oman Air unique?

Peter Hill: That is aligned to what makes Oman unique. We look after the travel needs of Oman from an outbound perspective, and provide nonstop, point-to-point air service. The government is looking to attract overseas business and leisure to the unique destination that is Oman, and we are working with the tourist board to make the world aware of what Oman has to offer.

Oman doesn’t have the glitz and glamour of man-made cities in this region. The national qualities of the country are [very special] – nature, peace and solitude. It’s a vast country which doesn’t have millions of people. It’s very relaxed. In Oman there is space, without the buzz of traffic.

But Oman is not as well known as it could be. We, as an airline, are working for 10-15 years ahead: we’re not going to be a global carrier, but we are aiming to become a significant player in the regional network and on routes from Europe, the Far East and Africa. There is plenty of capacity in the market.

MT: All of this is focused on drawing traffic into Oman. Is there any focus on developing a market for outbound travel from Oman?

PH: Abs0lutely. To give one example, many Omanis are buying second homes in Malaysia – the Malaysian government has set up tax breaks, made buying property an attractive option, with particular appeal to the Gulf market. Malaysia is a Muslim country, where many people speak Arabic and English – it’s an attractive option for many people. We are now codesharing with Malaysia Airlines, and seeing a lot of interest in our Muscat-KL route.

MT: Over the last year or so there’s been a series of announcements about Oman Air innovations, from the “most luxurious toilet” to onboard wifi. At a time when the industry is under great pressure, and carriers around the world are examining every element of cost in detail, why is Oman Air choosing to invest so heavily in passenger comfort?

PH: We were a late starter. Now we are competing directly with other Gulf carriers, who have set such high standards. If we will be able to make any penetration at all, we have to look at different ways of doing things. We can leverage value by doing it well – and that means improving service and experience.

I think we’re refreshing to travel with. We’ve invested hugely in interiors, in developing cuisines with imagination, a choice of wines. We offer 34-inch pitch in economy, wifi on board, you can use your mobile phone as normal once the plane reaches 10,000 feet, there’s video on demand in all classes – even live TV from BBC World, Al Jazeera, Bloomberg… It’s the challenge of being first. Someone needs to set the trend.

The sorts of complaints coming from legacy carriers in Europe – I just wonder, are these sour grapes? Are they crying because their lack of investment has simply left them uncompetitive, in comparison with Gulf carriers? People vote with their wallet. If an airline is offering pneumatic earphones, or electric headphones with an old drop-down screen, as against our technology for the same price, who are you going to go with?

We see this investment as part of the government’s plan to put infrastructure in place that will serve Oman into the future.

MT: Is Oman Air meeting national targets for Omanisation?

PH: Well, the goal is 100% Omanisation! It is understood within the airline that expats are in place to impart our knowledge and then move on. If you discount the flight crew and cabin crew, then we are currently 68% Omani. If you add in the onboard crews that figure is around 63%. Compare that with some of our regional competitors, where the equivalent figure might be 6.3% rather than 63%.

Our senior management team of ten currently includes four Omani nationals. Among pilots, the proportion is roughly 50-50. Among cabin crew it’s nearer 30-70, though all our male cabin staff are Omani.

The key is in the social changes within Oman over the last couple of years. As the image of the airline improves nationally – and internationally – so parents will increasingly view a career in Oman Air, in whichever field, as a good choice for their sons and daughters, when that may not have been the case previously.

MT: When I tweeted about this interview this morning, several people expressed interest, including Arun Rajagopal, a social media manager in Dubai, who asked me to ask you when you expect Oman Air’s Boeing 787 aircraft to be delivered and if Oman Air has any more 737 deliveries to come. That ties into a question about social media in general – what is Oman Air’s strategy for developing a presence in social media?

PH: First, to answer Arun’s question, we have six 787s on order. Boeing-willing, we will get the first of those in the first half of 2014, then two in 2016, then two in 2018. For 737s, we have an order for six, which are due for delivery in 2013 – and, in addition, we have two Embraer jets due for delivery in March/April of next year [2011], to service new domestic and regional routes.

As far as the airline’s social media strategy, well, that is in its infancy. We’ve had a lot on our plate over the last 12 to 18 months, putting in core investment, but you will see our social media presence develop over the next year.

MT: As a final question, where do you see Oman Air in five years, and ten years?

PH: I want to see Oman Air being the preferred way to travel to or from Oman – the carrier of choice. We have 23 aircraft today; in five years that will grow to 28 or 30 aircraft, and in ten years to 36 or 38. We will be aiming for a maximum of only around 50 aircraft in total, in a mix of wide-bodied and single-aisled. I don’t see us bigger than that. We want to become a major player in the region, and a significant carrier to certain global destinations which have a pre-existing relationship with Oman, both in business and leisure.

MT: Thank you very much for your time.

All content is copyright © Matthew Teller 2010. All rights reserved. Please ask me if you wish to use extracts of this material in your own content. I will usually grant consent, as long as you link back to this page.

Sad to hear of the passing of Sayyed Mohammad Hussein Fadlallah. One of Hezbollah’s giants I respect a lot.

The reference is to Fadlallah, a prominent Lebanese Shia cleric, who died on July 4th. Nasr later explained her comments in a detailed blog post, in which she regretted trying to encapsulate a complex thought in a 140-character tweet.

CNN is not my favourite news source, and I hold no candle for Nasr, but to fire her shows a lack of judgement on CNN’s part that far overshadows Nasr’s indiscretion.

It reminds me of what happened when Barbara Plett, a BBC reporter in Ramallah, admitted crying at the death of Yasser Arafat. This is the transcript of Plett’s report. There was an outcry following its broadcast in 2004. An internal BBC enquiry later found that she had broken the BBC’s rules on impartiality (report here). Plett was mothballed for a while, and then reposted to a different part of the world.

But she was not fired.

Journalism is a difficult job. The days of rigid impartiality are, it often seems, over: in their place have come a welter of consciously partial news sources. In old media that shows itself in the nonsense extremes of, for example, Fox News and Press TV – and the very raison d’etre of new media is to supply multiple voices on every issue, to cover all angles. The onus has shifted, to a greater or lesser degree, onto the news consumer to take responsibility for filtering and processing the information they receive.

In claiming that Nasr’s credibility had been ‘compromised’ by her tweet, CNN is wrong. Nasr’s credibility is, rather, enhanced by it – not because Fadlallah was necessarily an admirable figure, but because her tweet demonstrates that she grasps nuance, and understands that the profoundly complex and contradictory realm of Middle East politics is not populated by one-dimensional figures who are purely good or purely evil, but by ordinary human beings who can hold outrageous, racist views and praise those who murder innocent civilians while simultaneously supporting progressive causes and benefiting their co-religionists and wider society. Life is not black and white. You are not either “for us or against us”.

The BBC placed more value on retaining the skills and expertise of Plett – who, undoubtedly, became a better, more cautious journalist because of the controversy – than on satisfying political calls for her to go. In doing so, they recognized the value of always trying to seek impartiality, but the unlikelihood of a single individual – let alone an entire organization – ever being able to achieve it.

By firing Octavia Nasr, CNN has, in contrast, shown itself to be a deeply reactionary, conservative organization – either more interested in toeing party-political lines than in seeking the truth, or (somehow worse) believing itself to be impartial, and thus perfect, already.

CNN has soiled its journalistic credentials, and rendered itself untrustworthy. More fool them.

Credit: BBC

Acknowledgement for a worthy award-winner. Yesterday Jeremy Bowen, the BBC’s Middle East editor, was presented with the Charles Wheeler Award 2010 for achievements in broadcast journalism.

Amid the screech of grinding axes that characterises much coverage of events in the Middle East, Jeremy Bowen has, to my mind, always maintained a calm, old-school approach to reporting – saying what’s happened today, and putting it into the context of what happened yesterday (and, occasionally, what might happen tomorrow). Nobody I’m aware of in English-language media around the world is as skilled a communicator in explaining for a general audience just what the heck the fighting is all about.

He’s the embodiment of the fact that, blogging and ‘citizen journalism’ notwithstanding, trained journalists working in old media really, really matter.

Congratulations, Jeremy. Thank you, BBC.

The receding Dead Sea

Ferociously busy at the moment, ahead of a trip next week – I’ve got several stories I want to blog about, but only time now to post this BBC news report from Jordan by Natalia Antelava about the plans to build a Red-Dead Canal, linking the Red Sea to the Dead Sea, and thus (a) providing desalinated water for drinking, (b) exploiting the altitude difference to create hydroelectric power, and (c) pumping super-concentrated brine into the Dead Sea in an attempt to halt the shrinkage.

TV, as always, is restricted by the necessity to provide pictures – even when there’s nothing really to look at – but at least this 3-minute package introduces the issues and talks to the right people, including Munqeth Mehyar, director of Friends of the Earth Middle East (FOEME) in Jordan…

Red-Dead merits a longer post; I will come back to it.

The whole thing actually went very smoothly – ushered into the studio, a little preamble, polystyrene tea provided, and we just launched into it. Whether I made any sense or not is a different matter – judge by clicking here to go to the programme page, where there is a Listen button (and then please tell me what you think by coming back here and leaving a comment).

If you just want my bit, fast forward to about 18’50″ into the show – but I was on with FT journalist Michael Peel, who was plugging his book A Swamp Full of Dollars, about oil and corruption in Nigeria, and writer Jo Tatchell, who was plugging her book A Diamond in the Desert, a portrait of Abu Dhabi – both with fascinating stories to tell. It’s well worth listening to the whole half-hour.

A great experience, which I enjoyed very much. Presenter Sandi Toksvig was the height of charm, claiming extreme tiredness as the excuse for fluffing her script several times (smoothed over in the final edit), and ending the show – once we got there safely – with a juicy obscenity. Wonderful. I love radio. Am trying to do more of it.

I had high hopes: it’s a nice idea, and Humble is a good choice. There were some great sequences – camel-jumping in Yemen (where young bloods try to leap over a row of dromedaries, Evel Knievel-style: see pic), a bit of imperial nostalgia in Aden, discussing capital punishment with the chief of the religious police in Riyadh’s “Chop-Chop Square”, and so on.

But what a wasted opportunity in Oman! As the source of frankincense, and the anchor of the whole trip, Oman was treated surprisingly shoddily – a scant five or ten minutes, focused entirely around Kate Humble fooling around on camelback like a package tourist at the Pyramids. Nothing of Dhofari culture, nothing of the amazing frankincense souk in Salalah, nothing of the extraordinarily evocative ruins of Sumharam at Khor Rori, nothing of Salalah’s state-of-the-art Museum of the Frankincense Lands… Oman was reduced to swarthy tribesmen dancing and shouting at camels a lot while blonde foreigner looks on in bemused hilarity. If I was part of the Omani team who fixed that particular shoot, or in the promotions unit of the Omani Ministry of Tourism, I would not be very happy today…

Then we got perhaps the most positive half-hour of prime-time TV coverage Yemen has had in years – genuinely interesting sequences of travel, well described, well shot and with good Q&A cultural insight between Humble and her Yemeni fixer – including a baby-blessing ceremony in a tower-house in Shibam, a wadi walk approaching Shabwa on the ancient frankincense route, some nice sequences in Sanaa, and more.

Because the Yemeni-Saudi border is closed, Kate then diverted onto a three-hour flight to Riyadh to continue the story. But why Riyadh? It has nothing to do with frankincense, and is miles off the route. Why not Jeddah – which is at least in the right direction – or, better still, a connecting flight back to Najran or Jizan, on the Saudi side of the border, to pick up the proper trail again?

My guess – and forgive my cynicism here (I’m not normally a conspiracy theorist) –is because this series came about not because of a desire to enlighten the world about frankincense – but, rather, because someone, somewhere, gained permission to film a travel documentary inside Saudi Arabia, perhaps after years of asking. Lots is changing inside KSA, and there is a strong desire there to gain screentime in the West that is both positive and focused well away from news. From the trailers, it looks like episode two sees Kate hosted by Prince Alwaleed bin Talal for a high-life tour of Saudi in limos, supercars, private jets etc etc. So much for frankincense. I suspect that, having secured permission to film, the successful negotiator went away and developed a pitch which justified screening an hour of amazing scenery and memorable adventures inside KSA without it looking like a PR whitewash. Weaving KSA into a story about ancient trade routes is a brainwave. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Saudi promoted onscreen as a viable tourism destination.

It might work well: we’ve only had the first 15 minutes so far, at the end of episode one (of four) – though arrival in Riyadh was tragically, and brainlessly, heralded with the immortal voiceover from Kate Humble: “Saudi Arabia is a kingdom of contrasts”. Doh! Fire the scriptwriter!

And then, after dwelling on just how scarily different Kate thinks Saudi will be, with her tears flowing after trying on niqab in Sanaa (yes, it made her cry) and her nervousness about doing something wrong in Riyadh, when she finally arrived and was taken to a mall, all she could say – while looking around at Dunkin Donuts and shops selling, yes, skirts and T-shirts – was “It’s all so depressingly familiar”. Doh again! That felt like a microcosm of how Europeans have approached Arabia for generations: first it’s all thrillingly exotic, then the exoticism starts to feel threatening, then finally it’s not exotic enough. It’s the same mindset which results in Dubai tour operators laying on Ukrainian hoofers to stage a pastiche of Egyptian bellydance for groups on desert safaris – the reality is simply not enough to meet expectations.

But praise to the BBC for commissioning a four-part series about travelling across the Arabian Peninsula – that must be a first. Interesting that it was scheduled in the middle of Ramadan, as well.

However, this is the map the BBC have drawn to illustrate the route. That diamond at the top is the ancient port of Gaza – but, as I’m sure must be known to BBC TV executives, Gaza is not an Israeli city. A simple question: where on this map is Palestine?

UPDATE: Seems I might be wrong about that Saudi prince – possibly not Prince Alwaleed, but rather Prince Bandar. And the Daily Telegraph have pulled no punches in their review of this programme today…

UPDATE 2: For detailed travel notes about following in Kate’s footsteps, click here.

If you’ve ever watched any of the global English-language rolling news channels – chiefly CNN International, BBC World News or Sky News (all of which keep me company in hotel rooms around the world) – you couldn’t fail to have seen an ad or a sponsor’s message from Qatar Airways, generally playing on how luxurious their onboard service is. They’ve cornered the market in sponsoring the Sky and BBC weather forecasts, which are now topped and tailed with cute little five-second Qatar Airways clips talking about how “Tonight, we expect to see inky clouds of real Arabica coffee brewing over the Middle East” (or whatever).

All their ads end with this grotesquely offensive close-up of a female steward’s right eye, as she beams in delight and her pupil dilates with the sheer sexual thrill of anticipating being able to serve you real Arabica coffee.

That image comes directly from the Qatar Airways website. If you look closely, the tagline reads “The world’s 5-star airline”. But if you play the clip, the voiceover (and the closing image) read “World’s 5-star airline.” They’ve dropped the “The”.

The same thing is repeated throughout this page, which announced the campaign. All the original poster ads say “The” – but now, none of them does. The TV campaign features the same voiceover as when it launched, but now spoken by a different actor: at some point late last year they withdrew the original ads that used “The” and re-recorded them. Why? I don’t know.

Did someone sue them for making false claims? Is a statement such as “The world’s 5-star airline” actionable? I have no idea. But if you think about it, “World’s five-star airline” (which is now the default tagline for the global campaign) is meaningless. There is no such place as “World”. Once you notice it, the ads studiously avoid saying “The world”.

I wonder why.

And is it only me who’s noticed?

Never mind. Politics aside, one of Aleem’s most memorable stories – apart from his blog from the haj – came from his idea last year to walk from Nazareth to Bethlehem, retracing the journey made by Joseph and Mary in the Christmas story, arriving in Bethlehem on Christmas Day. If you haven’t read his blog and watched the video clips from along the way, take time to do so – it’s a great travel story, told brilliantly well.