Made it. Taxi driver on the Ram'allah side of the checkpoint hadn't a clue of where to go, despite my map and having a phone number for this place (his phone couldn't make the connection).
So I once again experienced the hospitality element of Arab/Muslim culture. The taxi driver stopped a dozen times, asking random passersby for help/directions, and people went out of their way to help. Not just because ooh, look! an American! but because a person needed help--and even taxi drivers are considered people. At one point, the driver stops a guy walking along the street, and he can't help, but he knows of someone maybe who can, and this first guy didn't leave until the next person was able to help--until some stranger from another country got the right directions for where he wanted to go.
At one point, the driver asked a group of three guys if they knew the directions, and they conferred among themselves for a minute, and then replied along the lines of, "Sorry, we don't know this area very well, as we're from Lebanon. But if you go up the street to that grocery store, maybe they know."
Maybe I'm belaboring the point, but I just don't see this type of thing happening in the U.S.
By the way, the taxi driver turned out to be a money-grubbing jerk (note: if you ever ask a taxi driver how much the ride cost, and he simply says "you pay me what you think is fair," that's code for "I want to gouge you, but make you feel like you deserve it"), but the accomodations here at the guest house are very nice.
Enough of that; it's lunch time and I need felafel.
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