Reflections regarding Monday September 30, 2024 moving from Athens, Greece to Caesarea, Israel
The last day of our European tour began with an early wake up call. We had to finish cleaning up, put out the trash, and catch a bus that would take us to a train that would take us to another train. The first part worked out just fine. We were doing really well until we exited the first train and had trouble figuring out how to get from the platform we were on to the platform we needed to be. Somehow the brilliant plan I had the night before to purchase our train tickets ahead of time did not work as planned. The tickets got us onto the train, but wouldn’t let us get out of the train station. We probably spent five minutes trying to figure it out until we finally just had the boys jump the turnstile and pass luggage over. The platform we needed to get to was down a flight of stairs, which was not at all clearly marked.
What should have been an easy transfer and taken only three minutes max, ended up taking at least ten minutes. Unfortunately, this meant we missed the second train. It was unclear if we were even at the right platform or on the right side of the platform. A kind stranger assured us we were and we chose to trust him, even though we kept glancing at the other side every time a train came by just to make sure we weren’t idiots for doing so. We waited. And waited. And waited. As every minute ticked by we became more and more anxious about missing our flight.
[Important side note: Adding to our anxiety was that we were scheduled for an Israir flight. With Iran’s imminent threat to attack Israel, airlines were pulling their flights to Israel left and right. El Al and Israir were the only airlines reliably flying in and out of the country in spite of the ongoing situation. With El Al being absurdly expensive right now, we opted for the far more economical Israir.]
The thing is, there was no option for a taxi that could take us all to the airport. We would have had to split into two taxis and that was going to be exorbitant. We decided to wait and leave it to fate. Thankfully, the gods were on our side and our train finally came. Again, we had trouble exiting the train station. Clearly, the tickets I had bought were the wrong tickets. I wasn’t wasting any time worrying about that and had everyone exit in a very not legal manner. The boys rightfully questioned me and worried we were doing something wrong. I elected not to respond and just kept moving. We had a plane to catch, and I felt vindicated since I had paid plenty of money for our train tickets.
We rushed into the airport, scanned for our Israir flight, and ran right into a giant snake line of people all waiting to check in at the Israir counter. Had our flight been scheduled to depart on time there is absolutely no way we would have made it. However, Israir had sent an earlier update letting us know the flight was delayed. Unnervingly, the departures screen at the airport continued to show our flight as leaving on time. Chaim insisted the flight was delayed, but I was getting nervous. When we finally reached the check in counter we were told we would have to pay to check our bags. We didn’t fully understand why we’d have to check them, but it didn’t matter how much it would have cost, we would do whatever necessary to get on our flight. Annoyingly, to pay for the additional baggage fee required walking to a different counter across the airport and then returning to the check in counter to show proof of purchase. Still worried our flight was going to leave without us, I rushed us through security check only to be slowed down at passport control. Finally, we could head to our gate, which was downstairs under the very nice waiting area. I was worried that we were going to miss an announcement or our flight. Against Chaim’s better judgment, we headed downstairs to wait with everyone else on our flight in a far inferior waiting area. The bathrooms were its only saving grace. Four hours later, the ticket agent who checked us in from upstairs arrived to man the boarding process.
A bus took us to a non-descript white plane. It literally could have been any plane. There was not a single identifier on this plane. The only reason I was confident it was our plane was because we were clearly with other people going to Israel. As we found our seats the boys peppered me with hilarious, but justified, questions:
“What is it [the airplane] so small?”
“Why is it so dirty?”
“Why do the seats fall off?” – this was a hilarious moment when Amichai tried sitting down in his seat only to have the seat cushion fall out from under him.
“Does this mean we’re going to fall out of the sky?”
Up until this point, we had taken well-known airlines with at least some minimal beverage and food service included. Unbeknownst to Shai and Matanel, this flight included no such frills. They had their hearts set on a snack and apple juice. When an attendant never came by, Shai was exasperated. “What do you mean they don’t have food or drinks?! I’m hungry!” The lack of service was anathema to his world view. I tried explaining why this flight lacked amenities. Although he understood, it did nothing to cure his hunger.
Our landing felt particularly fast. The boys wondered if it was because the pilot needed to evade rockets. I was unsure and spent the landing contemplating what kind of experience we would have in Israel given everything going on. Would it feel similar to past visits? Would we experience sirens? Would our children feel scared and want to leave? I was grateful I had remembered to download the alert apps before we left Athens so that we could be aware of any incoming missiles or rockets.
As soon as we landed there were reminders of lives tragically and horrifically taken on October 7, hostages still being held captive in Gaza, and missing persons. My heart tightened and my stomach churned. Our children know what happened and what is still happening. To be confronted with it daily is another story. At the entrance to every city, on every bridge, hanging from buildings, and along the highways are reminders of what happened. Banks, parking lots, stores, and so many other places of business keep an empty chair, empty table, empty row, or signage informing clients that those spaces are reserved for the hostages. Pictures of each hostage are posted throughout the airport, along bikeways and running paths, and city streets. I wondered how our children would handle having this information in front of them all of the time. Then, I thought about every Israeli child who lives with this daily and the thousands of children affected by October 7 and its aftermath. My heart sank to my stomach as we continued through the airport.
We continued to pick up a rental car since our first tour in Israel would be a month. On the drive to my parents’ home, we saw a massive fire that looked like something had exploded in an open field a little way away. It was hard to tell what it was from and no one else on the road seemed too concerned so we kept driving as if nothing was off about this scene.
The boys were tired, hungry, and above all excited to be going to Grandma’s and Poppop’s house. As Amichai exclaimed, “Grandma’s house [in Israel] is my favorite place in the world!” Agreed. Aside from it feeling like a haven, Grandma always makes sure there is delicious food to eat any hour of the day. In the car I texted my mother to let her know the boys were hungry. We had planned to have hamburgers and hotdogs since they were craving good homemade food that was as meaty as one could make. I also texted my father who has sensitive ears, “Btw, you will want to put in earplugs before we enter. Our children are SOOOOOO excited to see you all and be in Israel. They will be loud.” And loud they were. Wide awake after napping in the car, the boys went for a splendid night swim – a common activity at my parents’ house, and devoured hotdogs and hamburgers to their hearts content.
After two months of traveling straight, despite everything happening in the world, and imminent attacks from Iran, Israel felt like coming home.
