Homeward Bound

Going through Israeli airport security was an intense experience at 3 am.  The departures hall was filled with a line that snaked back and forth across the floor.  This line did not lead to a particular check in counter, instead it lead to security.  At Ben Gurion International Airport, everyone goes through security before checking-in.  Here, waiting in line, every single person was interviewed.  I was asked how long I was in Israel, who I was staying with, why I was there, if I could speak Hebrew, and whether I attended synagogue.  When I told my interviewer that I had been in Israel for two months, he stared in disbelief at the size of my backpack.  Ha! And I thought I had too much stuff!  After that, each piece of luggage went through a scanner and was then opened up and searched.  Only after this arduous process did I get to wait in line to check-in.  The “normal” airport security that we all know and love was easy: officials were relaxed and lines were minimal. 

From the air, I thought the Black Sea looked green.  The waves appeared sculpted from clay and in stasis.  Beneath their surface the ocean looked alive.  Green streaks seemed to race below the waves.  It was like a giant school of fish or eels were hurrying to some unknown destination on the other side of the plane.  Patches looked gray, mingling in an impressionist manner with the aforementioned eels. 

If I had drunk several glasses of wine, then I would say I was drunk.  Instead, I had woken up at 2:30 to catch a six o’clock flight to Istanbul.  Then I waited in lines for two and a half hours.  I wasn’t drugged, just sleep deprived. 

Istanbul was covered in snow.  I had pictured it to be a desert city filled with a glory that would be obvious from 2567m in the air.  I had thought that its resplendent past as the gateway between the East and Europe would be evident through my little airplane porthole.  But the city was blanketed in white and the history didn’t show from the air. 

Turkish Airlines is my new favourite airlines.  I was boarding my flight to JFK and walking through the first class section feeling sorry for what I expected would be my cramped economy seats.  As I passed the large, comfy first-class seats, I wished that I could spend the next ten hours in one.  Then I looked up to see what row I was at and where I needed to go to get to my seat.  I was standing at row 20, still in the comfy section, and my seat marked on the boarding pass was in 18a.  I walked backwards to my seat, convinced I had made some mistake.  I couldn’t understand why I got to sit in this nice section.  I was squirming around in my spacious seat, opening and closing the personal video screen, reading the food menu, and giggling.  I think the guy I was sitting beside was amused at my enthusiasm and happy bewilderment.  He told me that Turkish Airlines has this special seating section called Economy Plus, rows 10-20, where the customers receive all the amenities of first class, but for a normal price.  Since I was assigned this seat randomly, I was pretty pleased. 

By the time I got to JFK, I had been awake for 24 hours.  I was sweaty, cranky, and so tired I couldn’t walk in a straight line.  Everything was confusing, like why people kept asking for my passport.  I alternated between staring vacantly into space, talking to myself (which I normally only do in private) and giggling at nothing.  Crazy!  One of the things that amused my sleep-fogged brain was how I could understand everyone’s conversations.  It was the first time in 5 months that English was the most commonly spoken language around me. 

Instead of flying right to Vancouver, I am now in Florida.  I am visiting my great aunt and uncle here, like I did at the start of the trip.  I really like this symmetry.  I haven’t finished writing about Israel though; there should be several more posts coming about “The Holy Land”.