Christmas, for me, has always meant Chinese food and a movie with my family. But this year, I decided to spend my first Christmas in Jesus' birth place. It was also my first time setting foot in Palestinian territory.

I presented my American passport to the checkpoint guard, and walked into Bethlehem on Christmas Eve.

Walking through the dark and narrow fenced-in path to the entrance of the city, we spotted three tall blonde people, assumed they were Christian pilgrims, and decided they might be able to help us find our way.

We asked if they could recommend any religious sites to visit. They were heading to Shepherd's Field and Manger Square. After discovering I'm from Wisconsin, the man, also born and raised in America's dairy state, decided our meeting at that moment was a blessing by God. He invited Eugene, my American friend, and I, to join him and his two friends for their Christmas Eve. I glanced at Eugene, we shrugged, and decided to tag along with our new Christian buddies.

Dozens of taxis parked at the entrance to the city. The drivers, eagerly awaiting Christian tourists, approached us, mob-style, surrounding us, shouting their offers. "20 Shekels to Manger Square!" The city, with its strained economy, and a reported 65 percent unemployment rate, depends greatly on tourism.

Eugene and I squeezed into a taxi with our three Christian pilgrims. I found myself nearly on the lap of Segula Vigolin, a forty-four year old evangelist from Victoria, South Africa.

"What?s your name, dear?"

"Rebecca," I said.

"That sounds very Jewish, are you Jewish?"

"Ummmm..." I hesitated. Eugene and I had decided on the bus ride to Bethlehem that from the moment we entered the Palestinian territory we would tell people we were Christians. I decided, that for Vigolin, the truth would suffice and admitted my identity.

She was thrilled. It turns out that she, Brian Bread, and the other South African woman named Corlize Virjoen belong to an organization called the International Christian Embassy Jerusalem. ICEJ was founded in 1980 as an "evangelical Christian response to the need to comfort Zion according to the command of scripture found in Isaiah 40:1-2: 'Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.'"

"That is so brave of you to come here!" Vigolin beamed. "It is such a pleasure to have you with us."

When we entered Shepherd's Field there were only three other tourists.
About a dozen trickled in and out, but the place remained fairly quiet.

Vigolin told us, in detail, about the spiritual significance of Shepherd's Field. Christian tradition holds that it is the place where an angel visited shepherds and informed them about Jesus' birth. Brian read the relevant passage.

We entered a nearby cave. Segula and Bread started to sing Christmas carols, Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Gloria in Excelsis Deo. Having spent 21 Christmases in the United States, a country where Christmas is advertized, commercialized and celebrated months before December 25, I'd learned the lyrics to these carols, and sang along.

An older woman, Emily Turoujman, entered the cave. Delighted by the singing, she asked where we were from, and we asked her the same. She is from Bethlehem but moved to Jerusalem to work. She sends a check each month to her brother, who still lives in Bethlehem and has six children. "It's so difficult," she said, breaking out in tears.

Peace with walls is not possible, she said, and all of Bethlehem?s problems can be blamed on the Israeli government.

An old man, who had slipped into the cave, piped in. I love the Palestinians and I love the Jews, he said. But the Jews offered 95% of the land, 95%, he stressed. And the Palestinians took none of it. As he continued to talk, some Christian pilgrims who had also entered the cave told him to get out. One quietly escorted the old man away, as my Christian friends escorted Emily Troujman outside to comfort her.

Meanwhile, I chatted with our Christian Palestinian cab driver, Louaee Hussein, who has been unable to enter Jerusalem for the past seven years, because of Israel's West Bank fence. Bethlehem residents, the 26-year-old said, can only find work these days in Ramallah or Jericho. Though he studies computers at Bethlehem University, after graduation he will continue to work as a cabdriver, since there are no computer jobs in Bethlehem.

After the evangelists finished comforting Turoujman, the five of us headed to a spot with a view of Jerusalem and Bethlehem, lit up in the night.

Segula continued to share her views. "Israel has lost its direction," she said. "It has turned to many idols," but stressed that there was hope for the people of Israel, if they turned to God and devoted themselves to prayer. Segula and Bread broke out into more Christmas carols. This time, however, they raised their arms in the air, praising God. "You are my love!" Segula shouted with religious fervor, reaching towards the sky.

We made a quick stop in a souvenir shop before heading to Manger Square, the focal point of Christmas festivities. The shop-owners greeted us, excited to have customers. Like all Christmases in recent years, they had been graced with few customers. By the time we entered the store, at around 8 o'clock, the shop-owner said they had only made about $200.

Christmas lights filled Manger Square and a Spanish band played pro- Palestinian music. The Spanish people stand with the Palestinian people, the main singer said between songs, and then started to sing a song about Palestinians being killed by Israelis. Palestinians sold pastries, felafel and roasted nuts. It's sort of like the Wisconsin State Fair, I joked to Eugene.

Westerners were rare that night in Bethlehem, but more than 1,000 Arabs celebrated together. Palestinian children constantly approached us, begging for money and food. Men dressed in all black, donning black berets and machine guns, probably gave some people a sense of security, myself not included.

After chatting with some friendly locals, and some more pilgrims, we made our way back to the checkpoint, to flash our passports once again. Some people have been unable to leave the Palestinian territory for years, yet the guards at the checkpoint barely glanced at our American passports.

Though I didn't eat Chinese food this Christmas, I ate excellent shwarma in a Palestinian restaurant, and though I didn't see a movie, I saw a show I'll never forget.