...I had prearranged for a driver to collect me from the airport, and I was soon delivered to the house of Yasser - the charity director - in Deheishe, a refugee camp on the outskirts of Bethlehem. From the outset, I didn't like him. He was unfriendly and seemingly unable to abide by acceptable social conventions, and within the first five minutes I was wondering whether he was an imposter, and whether he actually ran a charity. The very first thing he said to me was "don't worry, you won't be raped here, just don't go outside naked," the second thing he said was "some of my previous volunteers were spies," he asked me a lot of bizarre, irrelevant questions, he stared at me for long periods of time in line with some psycho-analytical bullshit pretence of 'studying' me in order to get to know me, and then he'd sit for even longer periods, chain-smoking and staring into space. When I asked him any questions - about himself, the charity, the refugee camp, what my daily program would be like - he'd either accuse me of not having done any research, of being uninformed, or he'd tell me to calm down, to stop being nervous, that I'd have to settle in and get to know my host family before I'd start working. He also announced that Rhiannon was too difficult to pronounce, and said he was going to call me Stacey instead. I firmly insisted he call me Rhiannon, which made him visibly angry. He baffled me, and I felt far from comfortable with him, but I wasn't overly unsettled. After my four months of dealing with the constant harassment and intimidating tactics of Syrian men, it takes rather a lot to perturb me...

...I can report that in terms of its appearance and facilities, Deheishe isn't all that different from Damascus. The very term 'refugee camp' is a bit of a misnomer - it conjures images of tent dwellings, a lack of basic infrastructure, no luxuries, and abject poverty. In actual fact, people live in regular apartments, there is no shortage of essential supplies such as food and clean running water, and luxuries abound. The family I stayed with had state-of-the-art mobile phones, a television in every room, satellite television, a computer, the internet, more than enough food, and wardrobes brimming with clothes.

This is not to say that the residents of Deheishe are well-off, have an easy time or lead an enviable life, but given that the Palestinians are the recipients of more aid and more charity than any other people in the world, it's rather astonishing that they still live in relative squalour. Jerusalem is moments away, and yet the contrast between the two places is sharp. I conclude that standards of living are mainly attributable to the attitude and the mentality of the people and their leaders. I know where I'd rather live!