Dearest Rachel –
The second leg of the flight proved to have its own set of issues, honey. While Daniel and I were seated together on the flight to Vienna, we found ourselves separated on the Tel Aviv leg. At first, we thought there might be a misprint, since he was listed as being in row 12, while I was assigned to row 21; maybe it was a transposition. And really, since the seat next to mine turns out to be empty (unlike either of the ones surrounding him), it might have been better off if he’d pretended that it was a misprint. Then again, he wound up sandwiched between two ladies who were also on our tour, while the fellow at the window seat I sat next to may have had German as his first language. Not that I was in any mood to converse; I hadn’t gotten as much sleep as I’d hoped to on the overseas leg of our journey, and I hoped to do some catching up this time around.
As it happened, I may have caught a few winks on this leg of the journey, but it required more than a little effort to get there. Still, the trip didn’t feel like a full three hours, so I’m pretty sure I managed to doze off somewhere along the way.
As we got up to collect our carryons, some young fellow with long hair and a beard began breaking into an a cappella rendition of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ for reasons known only to him. He may have looked like our stereotypical white-boy image of Jesus, but when he started insisting he was the reincarnation of Mr. Cohen, I wondered if he had landed in the wrong country. Reincarnation is not a doctrinal tenet of any of the ethnic or religious groups that inhabit the Holy Land; boddhisatvas are more likely to be found in India rather than Israel. In either case, Daniel and I were both relieved when he separates himself from our group as we disembarked.
There’s a reason I’m wearing that “this ain’t my first rodeo” shirt for this trip, and it has more to do with the fact that two or three rodeos don’t make one an expert. Just because Ben Gurion airport is familiar after four visits (seven, if you count the return flights as a separate visit) doesn’t mean I know all the protocols to go through once we’re here. Thank heaven we were greeted by a couple of fellows holding signs indicating our group.
They walked us through the process of scanning our passports in order to get our visas. Most of us get blue cards, but a few receive green ones, and I’m not entirely sure why the difference. There’s a couple of us who aren’t American nationals; would that have anything to do with it?
The older gentleman who walked us through the visa process led us through the rest of the airport. His face was deadpan, with a touch of what appeared to be irritation as he informed us that we wouldn’t be stopping at the luggage carousel, since “your bags will be arriving in two or three days time.” He says this so seriously, and without breaking a smile, that I’m actually convinced, and trying almost immediately to figure out how to deal with this new wrinkle, before he breaks into a grin and leads us over to baggage claim after all.
One of our group points out that my face indicated that I had fallen for the joke entirely. Well, why wouldn’t I have? It was delivered well, and even if it were a prank, what harm is there in trying to figure out how to roll with the possibility?
Once we collect our bags and make a quick washroom stop (I carry on your tradition of taking advantage of such pit stops when they are made available; as we both learned from Genma Saotome, we never know when the next such opportunity will arise), we head out to our bus. Daniel observes that it’s unusual to be on our way while it’s still light out, expressing some hope of making it to Netanya before nightfall.
This proves not to be an option, however. The highway is as jam-packed as any in the States (at this point, it is rush hour, after all), and between the actual distance from the airport combined with the traffic itself, it takes ninety minutes to make it to the hotel – by which time, it’s well and truly dark.
Apparently, there used to be a walkway to the beach (and supposedly, they’re working on building a new one that should be open… by next year, which is meaningless for right now), but we never checked it out because it was too dark when we arrived on previous trips. Indeed, I think this is the first time we’ve gotten to the hotel in time to catch dinner (and considering that we hadn’t eaten since the tail end of the ORD-VIE trip, that was important for us). Meanwhile, the morning will be a short one as well (as they always are), with us taking leave of the place fifteen minutes before eight. For all that there are already people wishing we could stay here longer (one even wondering if Jesus walked through Netanya during his ministry. I’d wager He did, but that there wasn’t a city as such to walk through at the time). I get the feeling, and kind of agree with them, but at the same time, know that there’s more to take in elsewhere, and we need to rest up so as to be ready to do so when morning comes.
Until then, honey, I hope you can keep an eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 