First week in Tel Aviv August 2015

Shalom!

They say great journeys start with a single step. What they don't say is that the following 6 million steps are a little harder than you think they will be. After an amazing sendoff from my community, with funds collected from everything imaginable (ranging from beers, gift baskets, wine and jewelry, chess games and water balloons... to beautiful paintings, glitter tattoos and handmade items...you really should have been there) I was on my way.

  

My flight was scheduled to leave around midnight on Friday. Just as I had settled back into my seat for the 11 hour journey and placed the complimentary sleeping mask on my eyes, the announcement came that the pilot was dangerously ill and heading from the airport to the hospital. Due to FAA regulations a flight that long needed three pilots, and here were were with the remaining two. As the passengers stared in aghast at each other, letting it sink in, I thanked our lucky stars this illness had not waited until we were airborne to manifest. My fellow passengers were not nearly as thankful. If you have never seen 125+ angry Israelis at one time, please believe me when I say you do not want to. .

125+ angry Israelis line up for vouchers and answers

Passport control, when we finally arrive. This is
near the front of the line, the crowd stretches
 much further back

The subsequent two hours involved an insane amount of people trying to use cab vouchers for a company that had two overworked men on cellphones desperately trying to rally as many drivers as they could... with 4 cabs an hour being the result. I finally got to sleep at the house of a dear friend, who comforted me with silver tequila and the best hero sammy that side of town. Sleep was sweet but brief as I had to be back at the airport by 11am. Things continued to go wrong for the rescheduled flight, and we didn't take off until 4:30... but it did take off, so that is all I cared about.  The babies on the flight set the mood with their excellent renditions of misery, vocalized... luckily I met an amazing girl sitting right behind me who was in Israeli studying at the other school I had seriously considered, the School for Conflict Analysis and Resolution at George Mason University. We immediately bonded over shared career goals, study tracks and humanitarian focuses...  I hope to collaborate with her in the future, and definitely look forward to comparing notes on the different programs.

After arrival, luggage collection and passport control there was the train. then the bus. Then the walk. Then the five flights of stairs to an inferno of a dorm room. As I stood alone in my new home, exhausted from travel, queasy from the heat and silence ringing in my ears...I realized that this new reality was mine. For once I stopped living in the future, and existed for a few moments in the now. In the fact that everyone I knew and loved, or loved me was 5,000 miles away. That all my cultural norms, understanding, and patience that had been challenged in the past 48 hours was just the tip of the iceberg. Did someone say ice? I looked around for an air conditioner, and did not see one. This final disappointment led me to a bit of a cry, which I blame entirely on the strange morning croissant the airline fed me coupled with some serious sleep deprivation. After a quick pep talk from Sean I headed out to run errands, made a new friend, and all was again right with the world. (and yes, there is an a/c unit above the door to the bedroom, so the room stays comfortable from the afternoon through the evening and night, but if we leave it running all day and use "too much energy" then we will be fined according to the campus. They, in true Israeli fashion, do not have concrete parameters for "too much." So we unplug it during classes, from 8am to about 2:30pm.)

The small but sufficient dorm room A/C unit

So here we are. I had a few rough days with my bank that had assured me my cards would work just fine overseas, and they did not. But, new friend lent me money. My Israeli phone was lost in the mail, but they found it and now I have it. 1994 called and they want it back. But it serves its purpose. I also met the head of my program and the program's academic coordinator, and they are amazing. 

Now, here is it the end of the first week. Israeli weeks run Sunday to Thursday, in observance of Shabbat. I have my first test tomorrow and I am expected to be able to read and write in Hebrew, which is not impossible but promises to be very difficult... there are so many characters that look similar. 

But I am here. After so many years of reaching for a dream, to finally hold it in your hands, live and breathe it every day...and to know that I am here because of the love and support of family, friends, and even perfect strangers gives me a fire every morning, and I am determined to squeeze every last drop of opportunity out of that day. Now,  I have to go study for an insanely difficult test... so wish me luck!!!