Poli House

I know it is a cliché, but flying distorts all proportions. Late last night, our Airbus A321-200 touched down at Ben Gurion International Airport, a place already dense with conflicting histories and existential meaning. Already at the air bridge, one was greeted by emotionally laden Zionist images about homecoming and large Israeli flags. Another thing that became immediately clear is how small Israel and the Palestinian territories really are, not only in terms of surface (roughly the size of “Småland”) but also population with only about 10 million people living here.

And now, this morning, I find myself wandering through the Yemenite Quarter of Tel Aviv, its narrow streets overflowing with murals. While waiting for Ally to wake up, I discovered an egg chair in the lobby that immediately brought back memories of the dal.komm café in Dongdaemun. Yet the breakfast in the garden quickly made it clear that I am somewhere else entirely.