Banking on everything not going west

by Yves Marquand (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection Palestine

Never before had I travelled to the Middle East and here I was, with my sister, disembarking an Easyjet at Tel Aviv airport without the slightest clue as to what socio-economic, politically tense, religiously divided environment I was stepping in to. And, furthermore, how the actions of my ancestral nation had evoked this environment into its current state of being. Nevertheless I was going to Palestine and, despite my kaleidoscope of conflicting emotions, my expectations were few and far between - put simply, I didn't know what to expect. Take the transport then. A game of two halves is often used to describe the changing face of a football match, however, for me in this part of the world, I would say it most aptly describes the transition between two taxi journeys. One from Jerusalem to the wall and one from the wall into Bethlehem. The first was stuffy, formal and all to uncomfortable - due to both the driver and his choice of radio (a speech from Netanyahu) - while the second was like being back home - friendly, warm and relatable to my own life despite the thousands miles separating me and that existence. Once through the wall - an example of brutalist architecture that even Hitler's Atlantic Wall architects may have felt a little too imposing - the grass, aside from customary scorching in the sun's heat, looked distinctly greener. Where infrastructure was lacking (virtually everywhere) the people more than made up for it in hospitality, spirit and happiness. It has always struck me that those with less materially, and usually facing more threat to their existence, are happier than us in the west - where we've got it all worked out right? Bethlehem is beautiful. The sandstone architecture looks like the God, Atlas, himself crafted the buildings from the desert below. So authentic to their surroundings I felt as though I had walked into biblical times, and in some senses I had.