Strolling the streets of Ramallah – my temporary new home – I was hit by too many impressions to keep them all in my head.
The streets are full of life. Cars and small busses honking at pedestrians walking to and from work. Groups of men drinking coffee. Women (some wearing head scarves and long coats, others jeans, sweatshirts and Converse shoes) gossiping with friends or dragging little boys or girls away from shop windows with a vast display of delicious-looking cakes. On the street corners behind wagons of vegetables and fruits young boys yell at passers-by today’s price of tomatoes or strawberries.
At a first glance, Ramallah is just like you would imagine any decent size Arabic city. And if this was the first place you saw, you might not notice that Ramallah is on the West Bank. But to get to Ramallah you pass the barbed wired tall wall and the check point guarded by Israeli soldiers with machine guns. You are therefore always aware that this is the Occupied Palestinan Territories.
This blog is my thoughts on living in an occupied country.
Some posts will be in Danish (my mother tongue), some in English – whichever occupy my thoughts!