In the midst of a still shaky ceasefire, Gazans are taking the first tentative steps along the long road to recovery.

Bulldozers are clearing roads, shoveling the detritus of war into waiting trucks. Mountains of rubble and twisted metal are on either side, the remains of once bustling neighborhoods.

Parts of Gaza City are disfigured beyond recognition.

This was my house, says Abu Iyad Hamdouna, pointing to a mangled heap of concrete and steel in Sheikh Radwan, which was once one of Gaza City's most densely populated neighborhoods. It was here. But there's no house left.

Abu Iyad is 63. He does not expect to be around to see Gaza rise from the ashes. At this rate, I think it'll take 10 years. We'll be dead... we'll die without seeing reconstruction, he laments.

The UN estimates the cost of damage at £53bn ($70bn), with almost 300,000 homes destroyed. The Gaza Strip is littered with 60 million tonnes of rubble, mixed with unexploded bombs. The sheer scale of the task ahead seems staggering.

But even as work to clear away the destruction begins, different visions for Gaza's future are emerging. The 'Phoenix Plan' is a community-driven initiative that focuses on rebuilding Gaza with consideration for its existing infrastructure, contrasting drastically with the 'Gaza Riviera' proposal presented by former President Trump, which envisions a high-end reconstruction insulated from the realities faced by its residents.

Yahya al-Sarraj, Gaza City's Hamas-appointed mayor, states that shops and restaurants are beginning to reopen in modest forms as the community seeks to survive and rebuild.

However, amidst all these ambitious plans, Gazans express skepticism about foreign-imposed ideas lacking local input. The question is, who will prevail? they ask as they sift through the rubble of their former lives.

As Gaza strives to rebuild, it grapples with local realities versus extravagant visions, leading to an uncertain yet hopeful endeavor towards recovery.