What do they think of us?

Last day. Alone at breakfast I muse on the gap between us. Visitors from the West come loud, large and often full of preconceptions. I am every day learning to put aside old ideas and just listen and watch. At the next table, two huge Israelis are sullen with each other and barely acknowledge the pleasant girls offering service. Rudeness and irritation is mainly on our side. Do they look beyond the tourist dollar I wonder? What do they see?

I pack slowly, casting aside as many items as I can so as to fit the precious new in the case. Success and then a manicure before lunch with Lynn at The Press Club where we mull over the trip and going home.

At 3 pm transport to the airport. This time the airport route is in daylight and the great white faux arch is clearly visible. The housing estate behind it is still an empty expanse of open fields. All around the growth of roads and buildings is everywhere. A city on the move and thirty years after a war that saw more bombs heaped on the country than endured by Europe in the Second World War.

The driver does not beep once on the journey and without my asking stops when I bring the camera out. At the airport I tip him with enthusiasm for not beeping his horn. He smiles clearly puzzled.

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