3 - Ben Gurion
Six o’clock in the morning came quickly after tossing and turning all night. My parents and sisters woke up early to drive me to the airport. After saying goodbye, I walked through security, knowing I wouldn’t see my family for a long time. I met one of my teammates at the airport and we boarded our plane to Newark. The whole day felt like a blur. I felt like my body was continually taking me where I didn’t want to go. I was afraid of the place I was going and was already homesick. Every plane ride, and every step that I took closer to Tel Aviv felt like an out of body experience. My mind was continually asking my body, “Where are you going?”, “What are you doing? Turn around!” And yet, I kept moving forward. I was trying to hold it together on the plane rides. I had just met one of my new roommates who was traveling with us and I didn’t want her or anyone else to see how weak and fearful I felt.
Our plane was delayed in Chicago and we arrived late in Newark. Our flight from Newark to Tel Aviv was already boarding and we had to make a decision to either run and try to catch our flight or wait and take a later flight. We decided that we might as well run and try to make the flight if we could. We ran across the Newark airport and were shuffled quickly through security. They didn’t search us or ask us any questions because they had been waiting for us to take off. We shuffled through the isles that were near empty and took our seats out of breath. In all the hustle and bustle I didn’t have time to process that this plane is going to take me out of America and into unknown territory.
As I said, the plane to Tel Aviv is almost empty. I’m sure many trips had been canceled and tours rescheduled because of the war. My two new roommates and I spread out and took up as much room as we wanted on the near empty plane.
We landed at Ben Gurion Airport and found out that our plane was one of the last planes they allowed to land because of the rocket fire from Gaza. All other planes are being diverted to other places for the time being. My roommates and I realized how God had directed us again as we decided to run through the Newark airport to catch this “last flight” instead of waiting for a later one.
As soon as we landed, I was anxious to talk to my parents and let them know I made it safely. Before I could do that, we were shuffled into a short line for border control. “Short, because no one else is crazy enough to come to this country while there. is. a. WAR.” I reminded myself.
We had been prepped on things we should or shouldn’t say at Israeli border control. The goal was to get a tourist visa and then apply for a longer visa later. Beginning with, “I’m going to live in the West Bank for a year” was not a good idea. Mentioning Palestine or the West Bank was a sure way to get put back on a plane straight home. Israel is very happy to have tourists and even long term visitors as long as they aren’t planning to stay in the West Bank or Gaza. It’s a red flag to the government if you are planning on visiting or staying in Palestinian Territory. However, there is no way of getting to those places without going through Israeli border control.
I walked up to the young woman at the desk and she asked me in a broad voice, “What is the purpose of your stay?”
“We’re just touring the Holy Land.” I say.
“How long is your stay?”
“Three months.”
She sits up and looks directly at me.
“Why are you staying for that long? Don’t you know we’re in a war?”
My heart started to beat quickly and I began to sweat.
“Umm, yes.” I say, “We just really want to tour and see the Holy Land. All of it. We’ve been planning this trip for a long time and didn’t want to cancel.”
“You can see the whole country in six days. Why are you staying for three months?”
She had a point.
“Uh, we just really want to see everything…and study.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Near Tantour.”
“Who are you meeting?”
“Our pastor.”
“What’s the address you're staying at?”
“I don’t actually know. Our pastor is picking us up here.”
“How old is your pastor?”
“I have no idea.”
“How long have you been planning this trip?” She’s now calling over another woman.
“Since February, I think.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I just graduated from college.”
She started speaking in Hebrew to the woman she called over and they talked for a few minutes while I waited. I was sure we were going to be searched further or taken for more questioning.
“When did you graduate?” she asked.
“In May.”
My teammate speaking to the border control next to me seemed to be having the same problem. They were all speaking quickly in Hebrew. I watched my teammate get her visa and move on. I was on my own now. The women talked to each other for a while and I just stood there, my heart pounding.
After a few very long minutes, the border guard handed me a slip of paper, said, “Enjoy your stay”, and moved on to the person behind me. It took me a minute to realize she had given me my visa. I guess the fact that I had just graduated from college a month before made it believable that I was stupid enough to go to a country during a war and stay for three months. Whatever the reason, I was just glad the conversation was over.
After we got our visas and luggage, we met Josh and the schools director, Paul, in the lobby. They were obviously relieved we had been allowed in the country. Apparently, another team member was denied a visa, given a 10 year ban, and turned around at the border a few days before. Her mistake was mentioning that she was teaching at a school in the West Bank. It was clear that Israel did not like foreigners working and living in the West Bank. But God brought us here and, for some reason, gave us at least three months in the country. We would apply for a longer visa later, but for now, we were on our way to our new home.