Journey to Israel

Taking an overnight flight from Amsterdam, a layover in Prague, landing in Israel, hoping on train ride to Beersheva, and then finally a bus ride to the Ashram in the Desert, was tiring, but was surely a nice welcome to Israel. As I was sitting on the train I couldn’t help but notice row after row of 18 year old boys and girls with huge automatic guns hanging from shoulder across to their hips. It surely was a welcome to a land where the military is an obligatory duty for these fresh out of high school kids. Big eye opener. For some reason I wasn’t afraid sitting in a closed area with so many guns. Rather, it felt good in some strange way. These boys and girls are doing this work to protect this holy land. They are inevitably learning a great deal from this experience whether they realize it or not. And they sure have a large community of friends among them. They giggle and fight like any group of US teenagers. The only difference is they all wear the same clothes – dark green uniforms, black high boots, all shirts tucked in with the same belt neatly putting together the outfit. There seems to be no obvious sense of individuality when so many are wearing the same dress. Rather, these teenagers are learning to be part of a cohesive group, fighting for the same cause. I surprisingly found it quiet calming.

However, soon after this calmness set in, I felt complete madness as I transitioned from the train to the bus. I wasn’t warned that Sunday travel was so difficult as all of the soldiers pack these buses to get to their respective bases. It was crazy. The first bus came, we all threw our bags under the bus and soldiers started running towards the door. Running! They did everything they could to squeeze their way onto the bus. I wondered why they were doing this, but figured this is what I too had to do to get a seat on the bus. Sadly, I did not make it on the first bus. I grabbed my bag and waited. Luckily, I had just bought my first falafel sandwich of my trip so ate it happily as I passed the time for the next bus. One hour passed and the next bus arrived. Once again, I threw my bag on and rushed for the door. Shoot! How did so many soldiers get in front of me again?! Ugh! Alright, I got to wait once again. (And this is what travelling does to someone. You learn to go with the flow. Since you really have nowhere to go at any particular time, missing two busses and waiting yet another hour doesn’t really bother you). So finally the third bus of the day arrived and I was determined to get on the bus. After throwing my bag underneath the bus once again I ran to the door and I found myself completely shoved between a mob of soldiers. My short little self could barely see in front of me. I had a body squished to my back, my front, and sides, and I was getting on this bus!! I was lucky because as everyone around me was pushing their way in, I somehow got momentum to raise myself up and in. I was in!! Yay! I found the last actual seat in the way back of the bus as I was lucky not to have to join some others who had to endure the 3 1/2 hour journey sitting on the floor in the aisle. I gazed around….. I was the ONLY person on that bus who wasn’t wearing a uniform, who wasn’t Israeli, who didn’t speak Hebrew, who was on vacation. It felt great.