Day 1

"Everyone return to your seats... NOW."

This was the scene I woke up to about three hours into my Aliyah flight. In years past I had a pretty bad fear of flying, but over the years I moved past it, or so I thought. This flight, however, was different. Usually I look to the staff of the plane for comfort when experiencing turbulence. The flight attendants are always the picture of calm and serenity, even in the worst turbulence, but not this time. I woke to the most violent turbulence I have ever experienced (I have flown long distances many many times); The women next to me fainted, a person a little further up lost their lunch and I think someone else had a nose bleed. The staff members were running up and down the isles, looking very concerned. While all this was going on I must have looked like I was going to lose it, because the women sitting next to me took my hand and said "It's going to be alright." I was somewhat calmed, however I could not help but think how unfortunate it would be that I would die in a fiery crash over the Atlantic Ocean before I got the chance to actually make Aliyah.

Obviously, I survived. If I didn't it would be very difficult to write this blog post.

After what seemed like an endless flight, and zero sleep, we disembarked at Ben-Gurion airport. There were about 20 some-odd Olim on the flight, and we were all brought through passport control and shipped off to the "old terminal." Anyone who has been to Ben-Gurion airport in the last few years knows it only as an impressive, clean and modern looking airport. However, this was not always the case. My fond memories of the "old terminal" are the passport lines going out the doors and down the steps in the front of the terminal. Apparently, this terminal is now where they house the offices of the Misrad HaKlita (Ministry of Absorption). The process of getting our Tuedat Oleh and setting up health insurance was pretty simple and went suprisingly smooth (thanks to Nefesh B'Nefesh I can only assume). Once we left the airport I realized the warmness and efficiency we had experienced with Nefesh B'Nefesh was over; We now had to deal with ACTUAL Israeli's. Myself and two other Olim were put in a Sherut (shared taxi) and on our way to Jerusalem. Somehow we were able to find the one cab driver in all of Israel that had no idea how to navigate Jerusalem. I mean, I would imagine a very large percentage of people coming off flights at Ben-Gurion are going to Jerusalem. Plus he knew we were going to Jerusalem, he could've asked for a different route and left us to go with someone who actually knew where they were going. So, I became the navigator and translator for the ride (he spoke no English). The positive side of this was that I got to practice my Hebrew, which I found to be very adequate when put in a situation where I absolutely had no other choice.

After some frustration, I came to a place of acceptance that this was the culture I was going to be living in and I might as well get used to it. I am making a concerted effort to make sure I don't fall into the trappings of the "honey moon" phase I wrote about in my previous post (The 5 Stages of Culture Shock). When I finally got to my destination in Jerusalem, I began to to let it all sink in. I was lucky to have made some friends when I visited last month and I made sure to keep myself surrounded with people, so I wouldn't give in to the dreaded jet lag.

I am now sitting in my temporary apartment looking at a beautiful view of the Judean Desert, and the hills of Jordan in the distance. I can't help but reflect on what a whirl wind these last few months have been, and now I am finally here. I am an Israeli, I even have the paper work to prove it. Tomorrow I receive my Teudat Zehut (or tootie zootie as my friend likes to call it). Teudat Zehut is an identification card given by the Misrad HaPnim (not to be confused with the "Misrad HaPAnim, which is the ministry of faces). This ID is carried by all Israeli's all the time.....and tomorrow I will get mine.