November 3, 2009
Mornings on the trail
You wake up.
It's 4:45 am and you are still exhausted from the day before and from the long and rather damp night which has encouraged the mosquitoes to join you in your sleeping bag. The sky is still dark but there's a glimmer of light on the horizon.
It's too dark. That's not the reason you're awake - it's because you really need to pee. Trouble is there isn't a bathroom nearby, so you have to scramble out of your sleeping bag, grab a tissue and your headlamp from your bag and head off into the darkness to find a suitable bush. You find one that doesn't quite protect you from notice but your group is still alseep and besides that it's dark enough that no one can see you.
When you're relieved you go back to the camp and climb into your dew-covered sleeping bag to slip back into dreamland but inevitably the alarm blares out an annoyingly cheerful tune and you're forced out again to prepare for the day. You slowly climb out of your bag again, this time more reluctantly, and begin to pack your bag for the twentieth time in twenty days.
First you change into your clothes for the day. It's cold but you'll warm up with the sun. The sleeping bag egts a quick shake before you roll it up so that the dew isn't so thick on it. Then the ground mat gets a shake and gets rolled up. Then it's breakfast time - if you're lucky and found a grocery store the night before you can have some yogurt with your granola. Otherwise it's water mixed with some condensed milk. Flipflops get shoved into the pack and replaced by a pair of socks, then thicker socks, then finally the hiking boots. Your feet scream in protest from the pain of the blisters and sores your shoes caused the day before but you ignore the pain and lace up the shoes. All this happens quite slowly of course, as the cold melts away with the sunrise.
You pause to chat with your groupmates about the day. You have to go over the maps and discuss the length of the day, the destination and the amount of water to pack. Today it's five liters. You fill up your bottles and shove them in your pack with great hesitation. Once you're all packed up you'll have to throw all that weight on your back.
If you're ready first you sit and wait for everyone and chat, delaying having to put on the pack. If you're ready last you get hurried by your groupmates, reminded every few minutes that it's time to go and the day is going to get hot.
Finally everyone is ready and it's time. You heft up your bag and attatch it to your back and transform once again into that turtle, carrying its home on its back and slowly moving on to a new destination.
It's time to go and explore.
October 12, 2009
A belated welcome to the trail
Welcome all.
I have been getting a little ahead of myself and offering events without introducing our group or our journey to you. Here's a primer:
The Heroes of the Story (In no particular order):
Mihal Zada
The writer of this blog. I'm the one who complains about all my injuries like that kid with asthma who tags along but always falls behind. Not much previous hiking experience and a tendency to let a large and rather expensive camera dangle precariously from my neck while climbing rocky ledges.
Aladdine Joroff
Aladdine is the practical one, and also the one with most experience. A small and tough young woman, she's been hiking in Tibet, Nepal, Switzerland and Boston. Among other places. Not your typical young rogue of a hiker, she's a lawyer who got sick of corporate life and opted for adventure instead.
Sam Perry
Sam is the puppy dog of the group. He bounds ahead of us with impatience and wonders when we'll all catch up. His energy wraps up in the evening when he whimpers and whines with all the small injuries that add up to real pain. A native of New Zealand, Sam has hiked in some pretty fascinating places and has a passion for life.
Shem Jamieson
Shem is the stoic one. He silently follows along, video camera in hand, recording what's happening. We don't really know what he's recording. Could be a struggling hiker, could be a plastic bag floating in the wind. Often wandering off on his own between hikes, Shem is a great man and an even greater mystery.
Although some supporting characters will crop up as we go, these four are the ones to follow. When folks who come across us ask where we're from we reply, "New Zealand, Australia, United States and Canada." We've even considered just calling our group The Colonies.
Food
Anything dry is easy to carry. We are eating plenty of nuts, dried fruits and muesli, jerky and oats. But it can get pretty boring to eat dry food so we often buy bags of pita and add our staple:
Skippy peanut butter (with honey!) almost made it into our group name, as all four of us carry a jar, but we soon decided that either the danger of copyright infringement or the silliness of the name itself was inappropriate. Let's say Skippy if our mascot. Not that we haven't had a lot of offers.I have three minutes left at this cafe. I know you're all dying for photos of our journey and I promise they'll come but now we have to push on. Keep following!
October 11, 2009
Ten long days in fifteen short minutes
I don't have a long time because I'm using internet in a hostel for 20nis an hour and that adds up. So here is a quick trip through the last eight days. Enjoy.
Day one:
We meet in Tel Aviv, take a bus and then another bus and end up in an intersection somewhere in the north. We meet some Israelis, hike to Birket Ram (in the Golan Heights), where we eat a lot of fruit: there are apples, figs, pomegranates and grapes. We get to a lake and set up camp. I nap, the boys light a fire. I wake up, we chat, everyone eventually goes to sleep.
Day two:
We wake up with the dawn. Sam wakes up late which we discover is a trait of his, while Shem will become notorious for waking up early. He's already up filming the sunrise. We get ready but the Israelis are much quicker and leave an hour before us. We eventually leave and I find day two much harder than day one. We walk through a small Arabic village where I tire of the hills and try to roll my bag but instead Sam carries it on top of his pack for a while. We get to Nimrod fortress and after giggling about the name we get ice cream, I pass out with everyone's bags while they go explore the fortress. Then a lot of downhill, which is good because I'm exhausted. We reach a national park where we were apparently meant to pay a fee so we do. I get to the end with everyone else where a waterfall almost makes the walk worthwhile but we have to leave the park because it's closing soon - so it will be dark soon. We walk a while and decide to hitchhike the rest of the way to Dan where we'll sleep. Shem and I hitchhike and a young couple drop us at the gate. I put my pack down and immediately begin to feel queasy. Sam and Aladdine arrive half an hour later, since they couldn't catch a ride (Which we attribute to Sam's beard) and we get into the kibbutz and camp. Turns out this "trail angel" is no angel - he takes an extra 20nis from me to sleep on his lawn. Everyone eats but me, I'm too sick, so I fall asleep.
Day three:
I have already woken up several times int he night but this time everyone else also gets up. I've got some sort of stomach bug and I decide I can't do the day. I tell the group to continue the trail, I'll get better and meet with them tonight. I am on the lawn in the kibbutz until 11:00am. I finally get the strength to finish packing and get to the bus that will take me to Qiryat Shmoneh, near tonight's stopping point. I spend most of the day hanging around the bus station, I feel too weak to move around much. By three I feel better, try calling the group (Sam's phone is off so I leave a message) and explore the stores. I get a call from Sam around 5:30. They're at a campsite called Ein Roim, not too far away but they need water, bad. There's none nearby the site. I fill up my 9L capacity and try to taxi it over but the taxi doesn't know the place. With coaching from the group by phone he drives me to the entrance of the trail, where Shem will walk over to meet me. I step out of the taxi, reach for my pocket and moments too late realize my phone had fallen onto the seat. Shem finds me anyway, we walk to the campsite and I go to sleep feeling much healthier.
Day four:
We figure there's a water supply four km down but there isn't. We figure there's a road to meet the taxi for my phone but there isn't. We are hoping for a drum full of fresh water that's supposed to be by the side of the road around km 6 but it's not there. We start asking people about the water source since we're all getting low. No one seems to know but they are kind enough to offer us water so no one runs out completely. Finally we find a military base just off the trail that not only has fresh, cold water but a stand selling souvlaki. We take the spoils of our triumph and sit under a tree for lunch. Many people catch up to us, we point them to the water and food (the base may not have appreciated that but the hikers were grateful) and some sit with us. By the time lunch is over the spot is quite crowded. We keep walking and eventually get to a road. There's an extra path. It's very steep and rocky. I'm tired and I don't want to do it but everyone else does so I do too. We hike with a group of Ukrainians who help along the way. I fall but don't get hurt - and we've past the point of no return. The rock is difficult terrain and I'm worried about my camera getting knocked around so I get out when we near a street - Sam follows and we meet Shem and Aladdine by the intersection. We walk the rest of the way on the road. We arrive at Ramot Naftali, a moshav where we'll spend the night. I call the taxi, he comes to give my phone but charges me 90nis. I'm happy to have it back so I pay. We wander the moshav in search of food which is running low. It's closed but we can come back tomorrow. Time for bed. Before we sleep, Aladdine and I consult the guide. The next two days will be a 38 km hike to the top of Mount Meron and back down. We decide to take a rest day first.
Day five:
We pack up and go to the supermarket in the moshav. Sam gets stung by a bee on his foot. We leave the moshav at 8:30am. We stop an hour later to rest from a sun-drenched field and I get stung by another bee under my arm. The sunny fields go on forever and we meet our first of many tribes of cows. This day is a beautiful but physically draining walk through fields and valleys. The landscape constantly changes and is great for photographs. We are slow however. Too many breaks and a late start mean we're behind the crowd. I call the 'trail angel' Shlomi at Kibbutz Yiron to ask if there's somewhere to sleep. He says just the lawn, disappointing because we wanted to spend an extra day there. We don't make a decision about where to stay but just continue on into the valley. Although the scenery is beautiful it gets pretty late by the time I have tripped and scraped my knees and I am extremely happy when a young couple we'd spoken to earlier offers us a ride. Aladdine and I take all four bags and the sweet couple drives us to Yiron. I'm even happier when I call Shlomi again and he tells us there is indeed a place to sleep. Turns out he's trying to kick people out to rotate the rooms as fast as possible, which means we may not get the extra night after all. Turns out we're also kicking a girl out of the room - she's been living in there for a month. The boys arrive as she's moving out. Sam insists on the second night so we work out a deal: he gets to tell Shlomi that. We all shower and go to sleep, in beds for the first time in five days.
Day six:
Sam calls Shlomi, we will stay. The day is mostly spent being lazy. Shem disappears for a few hours in the afternoon while we nap. We're a bit worried, since he wanted to see the Lebanese border. He returns in one piece however, with tales of a free wine tour and tasting he got with an American group. Shem and I take a walk through the kibbutz as it gets dark, chatting about life and taking photos. I lie down for one photo and get attacked by ants, Shem commends me for 'suffering for my art'. We get back to the room and have dinner. Everyone cleans up and packs up because the next day we start to climb.
Day seven:
We walk down to the trail, 3km from the kibbutz and start the day. I use my burst of energy to forge ahead and for the first time since we started, feel good in my pack, walking with sweat everywhere and a quick pant. We stop for lunch and I'm actually the first to get there. We check the map as we eat. Turns out we're less than two km from where we stop for the night and it's only 12:30pm. We take our time after that but get to the location to find there' s a motorcycle convention in town and therefore no room for us on the lawn. We find a meadow nearby to camp instead and come by later just to fill water from a sweet guard who speaks no English. We light a fire, cook dinner and go to sleep.
Day eight:
Today is the real climb. Mount Meron is the second highest mountain in Israel but it's really more of a hill. It's an incline that is only difficult because of the weight of our packs. It's actually a disappointment. Then we climb down and head into a valley. The valley is beautiful and becomes a canyon around us. The trail stays near the riverbed. The previous day has gotten us cocky and we were surprised around 3:30pm when two forest workers informed us that we would not get to our campsite before dark unless we hurried and also that there was no water waiting for us there. One offered to bring some but assured us that we shouldn't stop except to drink. For a while it was easy. We walked on mostly flat pathways that wound around the riverbed. There was a section of forest in the ravine that had been burned away. There we walked on a higher ridge that gave a great view. Finally we got to a sign: Ein Koves, 1/2km. We'd only been walking for 45 minutes so this was a surprise. Were we faster than we thought? Nope, the 1/2 km was almost completely vertical and we climbed to the top on stones and ridges. Sweaty and tired, we reached the camp just at dusk. We found a spot without too much cow dung and set up a neat camp. Before I went to sleep we were visited by another group who offered us tea an baklava (we declined since we were already in sleeping bags), acquired a neighbor on motorcycle and had a startling disturbance by a group of teens who stopped their car nearby and blasted music. Eventually though I got to sleep.
Day nine:
The hardest day yet. It began by climbing back down the cliff and pretty much consisted of climbing up and down precarious ledges all day. Shem worried the rest of the trail would not be difficult enough after it. Happily the ravine ended in a flat dry section of riverbed that crossed over onto a field and then in the evening into a group of orchards. I nabbed a hardly-ripe but tasty grapefruit from one tree and ate it on the way. When we got to the street there was a small convenience store with a restaurant attached and we all ate hot food for the first time in nine days. Aladdine spoke to another group who mentioned a spot to sleep next to an orchard. We stocked up on food and headed over. They had a fire going and were friendly, and we settled in next to a large tree to get some well-earned sleep.
Day ten:
The ground we'd slept on was very dusty and now so are all our things. Tonight we end in Tiberias by the sea of Galilee, a shorter end than our intended location but tomorrow is a day off. We leave later than usual, which is a problem because the sun is hot and we have to climb another mountain. This one starts off simple like Mount Meron but in full sun instead of shade. Halfway up there is a fortress and during a break we explore it. The second half is a harder challenge. The rock is steeper than in the ravine. The mountain is an overhang of cliffs and the path leads us straight up to where there are only steel hand bars to hold. We all make it to the top in one piece but my camera will no longer take photographs. I don't know what happens but a phone call to a Nikon centre in Tel Aviv tells me it's a fatal error and I need to bring my camera in. So much for my day off. This is disheartening and I don't enjoy the rest of the day, which meanders through farmer's fields. We get to Tiberias around 3:00pm and despite my insistence that GPS is evil we follow Sam's phone which does in fact lead us to the hostel. We all had well-deserved showers and went for a walk around the tourist section of downtown.
We got back to the hostel and I got on the computer to check if there was a solution for my camera. 30 seconds later everything was fine. My vacation is back on. And now I'll go take it.
I'll be back tomorrow with photographs, an introduction to our heroes and perhaps a couple of anecdotes. Goodnight!
Day one:
We meet in Tel Aviv, take a bus and then another bus and end up in an intersection somewhere in the north. We meet some Israelis, hike to Birket Ram (in the Golan Heights), where we eat a lot of fruit: there are apples, figs, pomegranates and grapes. We get to a lake and set up camp. I nap, the boys light a fire. I wake up, we chat, everyone eventually goes to sleep.
Day two:
We wake up with the dawn. Sam wakes up late which we discover is a trait of his, while Shem will become notorious for waking up early. He's already up filming the sunrise. We get ready but the Israelis are much quicker and leave an hour before us. We eventually leave and I find day two much harder than day one. We walk through a small Arabic village where I tire of the hills and try to roll my bag but instead Sam carries it on top of his pack for a while. We get to Nimrod fortress and after giggling about the name we get ice cream, I pass out with everyone's bags while they go explore the fortress. Then a lot of downhill, which is good because I'm exhausted. We reach a national park where we were apparently meant to pay a fee so we do. I get to the end with everyone else where a waterfall almost makes the walk worthwhile but we have to leave the park because it's closing soon - so it will be dark soon. We walk a while and decide to hitchhike the rest of the way to Dan where we'll sleep. Shem and I hitchhike and a young couple drop us at the gate. I put my pack down and immediately begin to feel queasy. Sam and Aladdine arrive half an hour later, since they couldn't catch a ride (Which we attribute to Sam's beard) and we get into the kibbutz and camp. Turns out this "trail angel" is no angel - he takes an extra 20nis from me to sleep on his lawn. Everyone eats but me, I'm too sick, so I fall asleep.
Day three:
I have already woken up several times int he night but this time everyone else also gets up. I've got some sort of stomach bug and I decide I can't do the day. I tell the group to continue the trail, I'll get better and meet with them tonight. I am on the lawn in the kibbutz until 11:00am. I finally get the strength to finish packing and get to the bus that will take me to Qiryat Shmoneh, near tonight's stopping point. I spend most of the day hanging around the bus station, I feel too weak to move around much. By three I feel better, try calling the group (Sam's phone is off so I leave a message) and explore the stores. I get a call from Sam around 5:30. They're at a campsite called Ein Roim, not too far away but they need water, bad. There's none nearby the site. I fill up my 9L capacity and try to taxi it over but the taxi doesn't know the place. With coaching from the group by phone he drives me to the entrance of the trail, where Shem will walk over to meet me. I step out of the taxi, reach for my pocket and moments too late realize my phone had fallen onto the seat. Shem finds me anyway, we walk to the campsite and I go to sleep feeling much healthier.
Day four:
We figure there's a water supply four km down but there isn't. We figure there's a road to meet the taxi for my phone but there isn't. We are hoping for a drum full of fresh water that's supposed to be by the side of the road around km 6 but it's not there. We start asking people about the water source since we're all getting low. No one seems to know but they are kind enough to offer us water so no one runs out completely. Finally we find a military base just off the trail that not only has fresh, cold water but a stand selling souvlaki. We take the spoils of our triumph and sit under a tree for lunch. Many people catch up to us, we point them to the water and food (the base may not have appreciated that but the hikers were grateful) and some sit with us. By the time lunch is over the spot is quite crowded. We keep walking and eventually get to a road. There's an extra path. It's very steep and rocky. I'm tired and I don't want to do it but everyone else does so I do too. We hike with a group of Ukrainians who help along the way. I fall but don't get hurt - and we've past the point of no return. The rock is difficult terrain and I'm worried about my camera getting knocked around so I get out when we near a street - Sam follows and we meet Shem and Aladdine by the intersection. We walk the rest of the way on the road. We arrive at Ramot Naftali, a moshav where we'll spend the night. I call the taxi, he comes to give my phone but charges me 90nis. I'm happy to have it back so I pay. We wander the moshav in search of food which is running low. It's closed but we can come back tomorrow. Time for bed. Before we sleep, Aladdine and I consult the guide. The next two days will be a 38 km hike to the top of Mount Meron and back down. We decide to take a rest day first.
Day five:
We pack up and go to the supermarket in the moshav. Sam gets stung by a bee on his foot. We leave the moshav at 8:30am. We stop an hour later to rest from a sun-drenched field and I get stung by another bee under my arm. The sunny fields go on forever and we meet our first of many tribes of cows. This day is a beautiful but physically draining walk through fields and valleys. The landscape constantly changes and is great for photographs. We are slow however. Too many breaks and a late start mean we're behind the crowd. I call the 'trail angel' Shlomi at Kibbutz Yiron to ask if there's somewhere to sleep. He says just the lawn, disappointing because we wanted to spend an extra day there. We don't make a decision about where to stay but just continue on into the valley. Although the scenery is beautiful it gets pretty late by the time I have tripped and scraped my knees and I am extremely happy when a young couple we'd spoken to earlier offers us a ride. Aladdine and I take all four bags and the sweet couple drives us to Yiron. I'm even happier when I call Shlomi again and he tells us there is indeed a place to sleep. Turns out he's trying to kick people out to rotate the rooms as fast as possible, which means we may not get the extra night after all. Turns out we're also kicking a girl out of the room - she's been living in there for a month. The boys arrive as she's moving out. Sam insists on the second night so we work out a deal: he gets to tell Shlomi that. We all shower and go to sleep, in beds for the first time in five days.
Day six:
Sam calls Shlomi, we will stay. The day is mostly spent being lazy. Shem disappears for a few hours in the afternoon while we nap. We're a bit worried, since he wanted to see the Lebanese border. He returns in one piece however, with tales of a free wine tour and tasting he got with an American group. Shem and I take a walk through the kibbutz as it gets dark, chatting about life and taking photos. I lie down for one photo and get attacked by ants, Shem commends me for 'suffering for my art'. We get back to the room and have dinner. Everyone cleans up and packs up because the next day we start to climb.
Day seven:
We walk down to the trail, 3km from the kibbutz and start the day. I use my burst of energy to forge ahead and for the first time since we started, feel good in my pack, walking with sweat everywhere and a quick pant. We stop for lunch and I'm actually the first to get there. We check the map as we eat. Turns out we're less than two km from where we stop for the night and it's only 12:30pm. We take our time after that but get to the location to find there' s a motorcycle convention in town and therefore no room for us on the lawn. We find a meadow nearby to camp instead and come by later just to fill water from a sweet guard who speaks no English. We light a fire, cook dinner and go to sleep.
Day eight:
Today is the real climb. Mount Meron is the second highest mountain in Israel but it's really more of a hill. It's an incline that is only difficult because of the weight of our packs. It's actually a disappointment. Then we climb down and head into a valley. The valley is beautiful and becomes a canyon around us. The trail stays near the riverbed. The previous day has gotten us cocky and we were surprised around 3:30pm when two forest workers informed us that we would not get to our campsite before dark unless we hurried and also that there was no water waiting for us there. One offered to bring some but assured us that we shouldn't stop except to drink. For a while it was easy. We walked on mostly flat pathways that wound around the riverbed. There was a section of forest in the ravine that had been burned away. There we walked on a higher ridge that gave a great view. Finally we got to a sign: Ein Koves, 1/2km. We'd only been walking for 45 minutes so this was a surprise. Were we faster than we thought? Nope, the 1/2 km was almost completely vertical and we climbed to the top on stones and ridges. Sweaty and tired, we reached the camp just at dusk. We found a spot without too much cow dung and set up a neat camp. Before I went to sleep we were visited by another group who offered us tea an baklava (we declined since we were already in sleeping bags), acquired a neighbor on motorcycle and had a startling disturbance by a group of teens who stopped their car nearby and blasted music. Eventually though I got to sleep.
Day nine:
The hardest day yet. It began by climbing back down the cliff and pretty much consisted of climbing up and down precarious ledges all day. Shem worried the rest of the trail would not be difficult enough after it. Happily the ravine ended in a flat dry section of riverbed that crossed over onto a field and then in the evening into a group of orchards. I nabbed a hardly-ripe but tasty grapefruit from one tree and ate it on the way. When we got to the street there was a small convenience store with a restaurant attached and we all ate hot food for the first time in nine days. Aladdine spoke to another group who mentioned a spot to sleep next to an orchard. We stocked up on food and headed over. They had a fire going and were friendly, and we settled in next to a large tree to get some well-earned sleep.
Day ten:
The ground we'd slept on was very dusty and now so are all our things. Tonight we end in Tiberias by the sea of Galilee, a shorter end than our intended location but tomorrow is a day off. We leave later than usual, which is a problem because the sun is hot and we have to climb another mountain. This one starts off simple like Mount Meron but in full sun instead of shade. Halfway up there is a fortress and during a break we explore it. The second half is a harder challenge. The rock is steeper than in the ravine. The mountain is an overhang of cliffs and the path leads us straight up to where there are only steel hand bars to hold. We all make it to the top in one piece but my camera will no longer take photographs. I don't know what happens but a phone call to a Nikon centre in Tel Aviv tells me it's a fatal error and I need to bring my camera in. So much for my day off. This is disheartening and I don't enjoy the rest of the day, which meanders through farmer's fields. We get to Tiberias around 3:00pm and despite my insistence that GPS is evil we follow Sam's phone which does in fact lead us to the hostel. We all had well-deserved showers and went for a walk around the tourist section of downtown.
We got back to the hostel and I got on the computer to check if there was a solution for my camera. 30 seconds later everything was fine. My vacation is back on. And now I'll go take it.
I'll be back tomorrow with photographs, an introduction to our heroes and perhaps a couple of anecdotes. Goodnight!
October 2, 2009
The very first thing to come to terms with in travelling is that eventually something will go wrong. Everything started out perfectly. I didn't forget anything, I was at the airport with plenty of time to spare, security didn't give me a second glance. I even had a nice flight to Rome, sitting next to a chatty gentleman who told me all about his three grown kids, his mother's house outside Rome and the soccer team he coaches. When I got to Rome I had a lovely Italian latté and got a few photographs of the religious Jewish men praying from the east-facing window. Then the babies started screaming.
The plane from Rome to Tel Aviv was full of religious families and it seemed each one had a child under 18 months in their clan. After the line up filling the lobby formed at the gate, we slowly boarded a plane that seemed like it was designed and possibly built by the Wright brothers. I settled into my seat and drifted off.
I was wakened by the piercing scream of an infant boy across the isle from me. I looked over and saw his father furiously patting his back, as if the more the child was tapped and the faster he'd settle down. Then I noticed something else - we weren't in the air, we were on the tarmac. I was proud of myself for having slept through the whole flight and impressed that this boy was the first to disturb me. Then I checked my watch. 11:15. We couldn't have made it that quickly, we'd taken off 45 minutes ago. I had to crane my neck since my window seat happened to be between two windows. There were a conspicuous collection of Alitalia planes nearby. Alitalia doesn't fly to Tel Aviv that often. We were still in Rome.
11:45. After a muffled apology over the loudspeaker about technical difficulties we inched across the tarmac for ten minutes, then began our ascent. Immediately the flight attendants began to distribute the Kosher meals. There were a great deal of them. I wasn't getting a kosher meal so I settled in and tried to doze off again. A flight attendant came by and handed a Kosher meal to the girl beside me. I smiled at her and she pulled another boxed lunch off the tray and handed it to me.
"Kosher meal."
"I didn't order a kosher meal," I responded, fearing someone who did wouldn't get theirs.
She pulled a long, complicated printout and streched over three seats toward me.
"Mihal Zada?"
"Yes, but..."
"Kosher meal," she said, handing me the box. I took it figuring I'd scored an early lunch and wouldn't have to wait for the 'regular' food. I slid the plastic wrapping off the box and felt my stomach give an approving purr. It was meat, so no yogurt. But there were some fruit. They just looked a little strange. Upon further examination I discovered they were frozen. I shrugged this off and went for the little roll. It too was solid. My seatmate's food was also solid. I glanced up to see another flight attendant passing out 'regular' food and called her over.
"This is frozen."
"Oh," She said, not looking to concerned about that. I could see I wouldn't get anywhere complaining about that.
"I also didn't order a Kosher meal."
That made all the difference. She reached into her cart and pulled out a tray.
"Here," she said, trading my box for her standard airplane fare. I took it, but noticed that my seatmate said nothing, opting to pick at whatever had started to thaw. I was annoyed that she felt embarrassed to complain and even more annoyed that the crew hadn't bothered to thaw the kosher meals when the rest of the food was attended to. I thought about defending her but decided against it, opting instead to munch on my mediocre cream cheese sandwich (sans ham) and much warmer fruit.
When we got off the plane it was almost 3:00 and I knew I wouldn't make it to meet the hiking crew in time, since we were supposed to meet at Café Yaffo at 4:00. I called Sam, introduced myself and let him know I would be late. Then I went to collect my backpack and set off.
The first round of luggage landed on the belt with no luck for me. I had checked in early so my luggage was probably at the back, in the second load. There was a lull as people waited. Nothing happened. I turned to the woman waiting next to me and joked that our bags were still in Rome. She was French and didn't speak any English so my joke went over her head.
I tried again. In bad French I suggested that our bags were in another compartment of the plane and they're probably getting loaded up now. She shrugged and said she didn't know. I wandered around a bit tried my hand at reading Hebrew and came back. The French woman was still waiting. She looked worried. She explained to me that she spoke neither English nor Hebrew. Understandable then that she would worry, without being able to ask for help. I went to look for it, asking the information desk.
I was informed that if nothing else came I could go to the lost and found desk for assistance. The lost and found desk was very informative. It was surrounded by a swarm of people I recognized from the plane. The French woman had more than one reason to be worried. I went back to the belt and explained about the lost and found desk, but she wanted to wait a little longer. I wandered back to the lost and found desk. I was listening to a mother lecture her child about lying on the dirty floor when I glanced back and saw more luggage had begun to fall. This was encouraging.
The belt began to crowd up when I returned. I walked around to see if my bag was there. It wasn't, and the French woman was still waiting, still looking worried. I asked if she'd had any luck and she answered no. I looked up at the screen in front of our belt. Alitalia from Rome 2:45pm, United Airlines from Newark, 3:30. I tapped the shoulder of a man beside me.
"Pardon me, are you here from Newark?"
Proudly, the man straightened himself up and replied, "I am from New York, yes!"
"So you got here from Newark?"
My lack of interest in his origin disappointed him somewhat and in a more deflated tone he answered that he had indeed arrived from Newark. I thanked him and returned to the muddled swarm of Grown-Ups, screaming children and luggage carts in front of the lost and found desk.
After 45 minutes of frustrating waiting, I gave my information and was informed that the luggage was indeed still in Rome and would land in Tel Aviv at 2:00am. I could have it delivered to me the next morning by 10:00 am. Hesitantly I agreed, filled out some customs paperwork, wished the French woman who was at the booth next to me luck, and went off to meet the crew...
...whom I'll tell you about later.
I got to my grandfather's house at 10pm, ate dinner and eventually slept. When I woke up I was informed the luggage would arrive between 2:00 and 4:00pm. This worried me slightly since I still had to prepare everything but it was acceptable. We went out, did some shopping, opened a bank account and were generally useful. When my aunt got home at 4:30, she informed me they would be about an hour late. Since my granfather would be home to pick my bag up, we went to do some more shopping and round off my list of food.
We returned at 6:30. My grandfather explained that he had called the courier and assured me the bag would be at the door in 20 minutes. I was getting worried. I needed to unpack the food, put it in ziplocks, label everything and re-arrange my bag to fit my camera equipment.
The courier called an hour and a half later to get directions to the house. My bag was in one piece and my grandfather offered him a glass of juice and a handshake and he was on his way to deliver the last of the bags.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is 1:00 on October 2nd. I am leaving for my hike at 6am. I just finished packing; I am finally prepared. If I believed in karma I would say nothing more can go wrong, but of course it can. How else could I offer you such entertaining stories?
The plane from Rome to Tel Aviv was full of religious families and it seemed each one had a child under 18 months in their clan. After the line up filling the lobby formed at the gate, we slowly boarded a plane that seemed like it was designed and possibly built by the Wright brothers. I settled into my seat and drifted off.
I was wakened by the piercing scream of an infant boy across the isle from me. I looked over and saw his father furiously patting his back, as if the more the child was tapped and the faster he'd settle down. Then I noticed something else - we weren't in the air, we were on the tarmac. I was proud of myself for having slept through the whole flight and impressed that this boy was the first to disturb me. Then I checked my watch. 11:15. We couldn't have made it that quickly, we'd taken off 45 minutes ago. I had to crane my neck since my window seat happened to be between two windows. There were a conspicuous collection of Alitalia planes nearby. Alitalia doesn't fly to Tel Aviv that often. We were still in Rome.
11:45. After a muffled apology over the loudspeaker about technical difficulties we inched across the tarmac for ten minutes, then began our ascent. Immediately the flight attendants began to distribute the Kosher meals. There were a great deal of them. I wasn't getting a kosher meal so I settled in and tried to doze off again. A flight attendant came by and handed a Kosher meal to the girl beside me. I smiled at her and she pulled another boxed lunch off the tray and handed it to me.
"Kosher meal."
"I didn't order a kosher meal," I responded, fearing someone who did wouldn't get theirs.
She pulled a long, complicated printout and streched over three seats toward me.
"Mihal Zada?"
"Yes, but..."
"Kosher meal," she said, handing me the box. I took it figuring I'd scored an early lunch and wouldn't have to wait for the 'regular' food. I slid the plastic wrapping off the box and felt my stomach give an approving purr. It was meat, so no yogurt. But there were some fruit. They just looked a little strange. Upon further examination I discovered they were frozen. I shrugged this off and went for the little roll. It too was solid. My seatmate's food was also solid. I glanced up to see another flight attendant passing out 'regular' food and called her over.
"This is frozen."
"Oh," She said, not looking to concerned about that. I could see I wouldn't get anywhere complaining about that.
"I also didn't order a Kosher meal."
That made all the difference. She reached into her cart and pulled out a tray.
"Here," she said, trading my box for her standard airplane fare. I took it, but noticed that my seatmate said nothing, opting to pick at whatever had started to thaw. I was annoyed that she felt embarrassed to complain and even more annoyed that the crew hadn't bothered to thaw the kosher meals when the rest of the food was attended to. I thought about defending her but decided against it, opting instead to munch on my mediocre cream cheese sandwich (sans ham) and much warmer fruit.
When we got off the plane it was almost 3:00 and I knew I wouldn't make it to meet the hiking crew in time, since we were supposed to meet at Café Yaffo at 4:00. I called Sam, introduced myself and let him know I would be late. Then I went to collect my backpack and set off.
The first round of luggage landed on the belt with no luck for me. I had checked in early so my luggage was probably at the back, in the second load. There was a lull as people waited. Nothing happened. I turned to the woman waiting next to me and joked that our bags were still in Rome. She was French and didn't speak any English so my joke went over her head.
I tried again. In bad French I suggested that our bags were in another compartment of the plane and they're probably getting loaded up now. She shrugged and said she didn't know. I wandered around a bit tried my hand at reading Hebrew and came back. The French woman was still waiting. She looked worried. She explained to me that she spoke neither English nor Hebrew. Understandable then that she would worry, without being able to ask for help. I went to look for it, asking the information desk.
I was informed that if nothing else came I could go to the lost and found desk for assistance. The lost and found desk was very informative. It was surrounded by a swarm of people I recognized from the plane. The French woman had more than one reason to be worried. I went back to the belt and explained about the lost and found desk, but she wanted to wait a little longer. I wandered back to the lost and found desk. I was listening to a mother lecture her child about lying on the dirty floor when I glanced back and saw more luggage had begun to fall. This was encouraging.
The belt began to crowd up when I returned. I walked around to see if my bag was there. It wasn't, and the French woman was still waiting, still looking worried. I asked if she'd had any luck and she answered no. I looked up at the screen in front of our belt. Alitalia from Rome 2:45pm, United Airlines from Newark, 3:30. I tapped the shoulder of a man beside me.
"Pardon me, are you here from Newark?"
Proudly, the man straightened himself up and replied, "I am from New York, yes!"
"So you got here from Newark?"
My lack of interest in his origin disappointed him somewhat and in a more deflated tone he answered that he had indeed arrived from Newark. I thanked him and returned to the muddled swarm of Grown-Ups, screaming children and luggage carts in front of the lost and found desk.
After 45 minutes of frustrating waiting, I gave my information and was informed that the luggage was indeed still in Rome and would land in Tel Aviv at 2:00am. I could have it delivered to me the next morning by 10:00 am. Hesitantly I agreed, filled out some customs paperwork, wished the French woman who was at the booth next to me luck, and went off to meet the crew...
...whom I'll tell you about later.
I got to my grandfather's house at 10pm, ate dinner and eventually slept. When I woke up I was informed the luggage would arrive between 2:00 and 4:00pm. This worried me slightly since I still had to prepare everything but it was acceptable. We went out, did some shopping, opened a bank account and were generally useful. When my aunt got home at 4:30, she informed me they would be about an hour late. Since my granfather would be home to pick my bag up, we went to do some more shopping and round off my list of food.
We returned at 6:30. My grandfather explained that he had called the courier and assured me the bag would be at the door in 20 minutes. I was getting worried. I needed to unpack the food, put it in ziplocks, label everything and re-arrange my bag to fit my camera equipment.
The courier called an hour and a half later to get directions to the house. My bag was in one piece and my grandfather offered him a glass of juice and a handshake and he was on his way to deliver the last of the bags.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is 1:00 on October 2nd. I am leaving for my hike at 6am. I just finished packing; I am finally prepared. If I believed in karma I would say nothing more can go wrong, but of course it can. How else could I offer you such entertaining stories?
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