Driving to Heathrow, C & I talked about Chaucer's pilgrims. Who would we be, in that motley crew? Would our fellow-travellers be closer to Chaucer's saintly prioress or the scheming Pardoner? As two newly single women, would we find ourselves sliding into territory best left to the Wife of Bath?
As we queued for check-in, my thoughts turned to older pilgrimages...to Egeria, visiting the Holy Land in the 4th century, to all those who set out on perilous roads, facing violence, illness, unspecified dangers for the sake of a glimpse of the Holy Land. It was so easy for us. We simply had to step onto the plane and, unimaginably, after a few hours there we would be.
Of course, I had reckoned without the necessary caution of El Al's security. It's strange how the experience of being thoroughly searched, my entirely innocent hand luggage gone through with a fine tooth comb, my emergency undies "just in case" shaken out in case they might conceal - who knows what? - made me feel irrationally guilty. On one level, of course, such care is reassuring. They are determined to make flights as safe as possible, even in this troubled and troubling age...and yet, somehow, this evidence of extra care makes me very anxious, providing further evidence that the world is not the universally friendly, liberal-minded place my white privilege has experienced it as to date. Each of us was a potential terrorist til proven otherwise. As S said "Welcome to the world of young men of colour".
Visible security, armed police will be a feature of the trip. It's good to get used to it, maybe?
Take off...always anxious so my familiar ritual of a quick text to my children. "Just off now. Love you". Just in case. How terrible if I had left it unsaid!
And we flew. Safely, swiftly...in a way that our predecessors could never have imagined. We flew, we landed, were welcomed by a Palestinian guide with the surprising declaration, that somehow felt entirely right
"Welcome home".
We boarded our coach, drove along a dual carriageway that could have been anywhere in the world, but for a generous sprinkling of palm trees. Weary, we began to doze, until we stopped, unexpectedly - our first sight of the city's lights - a city on a hill cannot be hidden. We read psalm 22, and I found myself singing Parry in my head from then on til bedtime.
"I was glad when they said unto me
We shall go into the house of the Lord.
My feet shall stand in your gates, O Jerusalem"
MY FEET...here...today! Wonder of wonders! I was glad indeed...
As we queued for check-in, my thoughts turned to older pilgrimages...to Egeria, visiting the Holy Land in the 4th century, to all those who set out on perilous roads, facing violence, illness, unspecified dangers for the sake of a glimpse of the Holy Land. It was so easy for us. We simply had to step onto the plane and, unimaginably, after a few hours there we would be.
Of course, I had reckoned without the necessary caution of El Al's security. It's strange how the experience of being thoroughly searched, my entirely innocent hand luggage gone through with a fine tooth comb, my emergency undies "just in case" shaken out in case they might conceal - who knows what? - made me feel irrationally guilty. On one level, of course, such care is reassuring. They are determined to make flights as safe as possible, even in this troubled and troubling age...and yet, somehow, this evidence of extra care makes me very anxious, providing further evidence that the world is not the universally friendly, liberal-minded place my white privilege has experienced it as to date. Each of us was a potential terrorist til proven otherwise. As S said "Welcome to the world of young men of colour".
Visible security, armed police will be a feature of the trip. It's good to get used to it, maybe?
Take off...always anxious so my familiar ritual of a quick text to my children. "Just off now. Love you". Just in case. How terrible if I had left it unsaid!
And we flew. Safely, swiftly...in a way that our predecessors could never have imagined. We flew, we landed, were welcomed by a Palestinian guide with the surprising declaration, that somehow felt entirely right
"Welcome home".
We boarded our coach, drove along a dual carriageway that could have been anywhere in the world, but for a generous sprinkling of palm trees. Weary, we began to doze, until we stopped, unexpectedly - our first sight of the city's lights - a city on a hill cannot be hidden. We read psalm 22, and I found myself singing Parry in my head from then on til bedtime.
"I was glad when they said unto me
We shall go into the house of the Lord.
My feet shall stand in your gates, O Jerusalem"
MY FEET...here...today! Wonder of wonders! I was glad indeed...
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