On a December Friday morning, an ordinary-looking bus filled with ordinary-looking people departs Tel Aviv's central station. An air of anticipation runs through the crowded bus, packed with groups of wealthy middle-aged ladies, elderly couples, and a scattering of single young people.

They chat amicably amongst themselves until a 40-something woman, Rocheli, steps up to the front of the bus and picks up a microphone.

"Good morning, and welcome to this tour to Nofei Nehemia, Givat Asav and Migron," she says.

Despite appearances, this bus isn't the normal Friday morning line carrying travelers on a tour to Israel's historic sites. Instead, it is a bullet-proof vehicle, heading to view three West Bank 'illegal' outposts, as part of a tour organized by the largest, longest established peace organization in Israel, Peace Now.

Unlike many of the controversial activities instigated by Peace Now, however, today's tour is not aimed specifically at activists, but at the general Israeli public. The group's intention is to open the eyes of normal Israelis to what it deems the Israeli government's irresponsible financing of West Bank settlements on the 'wrong side' of the green line.

And certainly, the majority of passengers on the trip are anything but seasoned activists.

"I haven't been outside the green line for more than 20 years," says Tamara, a well-dressed lady from North Tel Aviv, "I wonder what it looks like nowadays."

The visit, conducted with army and police approval, is the first such trip to the West Bank for regular Israelis, but something which Peace Now hopes will become a frequent activity. With growing middle class public support for the spectrum of peace and pro-Palestinian movements springing up in Israel, they believe that this type of 'hands on' approach is crucial.

"This time we've aimed our campaign at the general public," says Rocheli, "in the hope that when they go home, they'll spend their Friday night dinner talking with friends and family about what they saw with their own eyes. That's the way that change will come about."

On reaching the road to the Nofei Nehemia outpost, however, it seems that despite such ideals and months of planning, trips of this nature are problematic to undertake. A military vehicle blocks the road, refusing to allow the bus, now joined by another three from Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, to go any further.

According to police at the roadblock, a military order has been signed to declare the settlement a closed military zone. According to Peace Now, however, this is just a ruse to discourage them from continuing, the army itself having authorized the trip.

The charity's organizers, therefore, encourage the visitors to follow them out of the buses: if the vehicles won't be allowed to continue, the tour can carry on - on foot.

Rising to the occasion, the tour members continue on with strengthened resolve. The police, now overwhelmed by the some 200 pedestrians marching decisively up the hill towards the settlement, attempt to impose order. Several organizers are arrested; one climbs into the back of the police van and lights a cigarette with resignation, clearly accustomed to such a procedure.

"We're innocent civilians!" yells one of the younger members indignantly, "We serve in the army; we pay our taxes. We just want to see where our money goes! What do you have to hide from us?" shouts an elderly man, entering into the spirit of things.

Up at the settlement, the visitors finally see for themselves what all the fuss is about. Eight settlers' cabins on a beautiful hilltop support a population of 13 families and 4 single Israelis along one single paved road.

"It's a question of faith," says one settler woman who appears from her house, holding a small baby, to talk to the visitors. "We believe that this is our father's land. It says so in the Bible."

Today, the settlement is guarded by several soldiers to keep Peace Now and its guests at bay; according to Peace Now, many of the larger Palestinian populations in the area are isolated by security fences and checkpoints in order to ensure the safety of these tiny Israeli enclaves.

Back down at the buses, the police are forced to relent and release Peace Now organizers. With no military order appearing, they have no case against the tour: the organizers are grudgingly 'un-arrested' and finally the visit is allowed to go on as planned.

The central paradox, says Peace Now, is that the Israeli government on the one hand is committed to dismantling such settlements, but on the other continues to pour money into them. The paved roads here, for example, are of a better quality than in Tel Aviv, and are generally well-lit, unlike many standard Israeli highways. Such generously equipped settlements must then be guarded, again at the tax-payers' expense.

And this can make even ordinary people behave like activists.

"Do you have any more of those Peace Now T-shirts? How about in kids' sizes?" asks one otherwise demure woman, still flushed from the exertion of climbing down from the hilltop settlement.

As the bus pulls away, bound for the second settlement of the day, heated conversation fills the air, as the donations box passed down the bus is filled with gusto.

Peace Now, whilst angry at having yet another tour disrupted by officials, is happy with the result: new members for the ranks, and an air of dissent amongst Tel Aviv's well-heeled, and increasingly influential, middle aged ladies.