Who's Who on the Holy Land Holiday

           I write again beseeching your forgiveness. In trying to be reliable in everything going on this summer, I have become increasingly unreliable. I have been struggling for some time now with a complete lack of inspiration. I want to share experiences from my trip to the Holy Land, and yet I find it hard to think of things I’d like to write about. Even more difficult is deciding what you’d like to read about. With that in mind, I remembered the wisdom I picked up somewhere or another that everyone likes to talk about themselves. Unfortunately, you were not on my trip to Israel (unless, of course, you were in which case I say Hello!). I think that the next best thing would be a few short stories about those who accompanied me in Israel.  I’ve decided to start off with a little ‘Name that Professor’.

        

          Our first contestant could hardly be discussed without mentioning his lovely wife. In her sun-conscious hat, she kept us students like little ducklings, safely near her. Mr. Professor was easy to find, as long as you kept your ears open. It seems there is a hymn for everything, particularly in the morning. This Man may give you a hard time, but he is always ready to teach, to laugh, and to have fun with his students. Hey teach, you the Man!

           You’ll have to hurry to catch up with our next contestant, he’s probably catching his next plane. Careful observation revealed that this teacher rubs his head approximately every 45 seconds, perhaps to restrict hair re-growth.  This professor opened our eyes to the people around us, the lost, oppressed, and down-trodden who are easy to lose in the shadows of the monuments.  He Shaw is a good’un (even if certain young members of his family do refuse to take much needed baths).

                Who’s the raddest grandparent in Israel? Yeah, she rode a camel. Yeah, she slept in a tent. Yeah, she talked down market prices like a pro. Can’t say I disagree with her statement that “Israeli boys are hot!” Jokes aside, this professor has a way of explaining the truth of the bible in a way that is practical, accessible, and just plain brilliant.

                There were several other great professors among our Israel travelers, not to mention a wonderful group of students. It was a joy to have each of them (and their terrific wives). I want to make sure that everyone knows that Erasmus is dead and that if she doesn’t eat with me then she doesn’t eat at all. I hope you were able to guess the professors, but I also hope you know how much I admire them all. I love my school and the professors of Wayland Baptist University help make it a great place to get an education. Thank you all for being so very knowledgeable, but even more for caring so much about your students.

Can't Quit Now

     Ladies, gentlemen, and blog readers of all shapes and sizes, I am pleased to inform you that the show goes on. It's been a bit since I posted anything, but now that I've given the Holocaust Museum time to soak into your brain, I shall continue. We're all aware that my trip is long over and I am quite contentedly back in Texas (that is, if you've read anything else on this page.) Nonetheless, I am having fun blogging and I'd like to keep adding Israel insights and memories. You guys have been pretty silent, so I'm not sure if you can't figure out how to post a comment or if you are hiding from me. Speak up! I'd love to answer questions about my trip or to get some feedback about my writing. If there is a topic you'd like me to cover, whether mosques or moose, please let me know!

     Before departure, I said a lot about having never flown. I don't think I have been as thorough about my actual flight experience. I'm sorry to say that I might be a little bit of a Negative Nancy again. You experienced flyers..fliers..fly..individuals who travel in airplanes will grin and nod when I describe my frustration with airports. At first, I was in awe. We started in DFW and everything was HUGE. Huge windows looked out on huge runways with huge planes carrying huge numbers of people. Huge signs, huge bathrooms, huge I heart Texas coffee mugs. We took a tram to our gate and joked that all in one day we would be on 'planes, trains, and automobiles'. Speaking of gates, there is a whole system of vocabulary that exists in an airport. There are gates and terminals and 23492 different lines each with different purposes. Apparently, one is supposed to be born with this system etched in his or her brain. I, however, was not and had to suffer all day through the "Are you stupid?" looks of airport staff and customers.

     Airport security. Everyone, their dog, and now me knows that it is a dirty, awful word. Taking my shoes off?? Maybe if I was entering a Japanese home and being offered a delightful cup of tea in return, but seriously? The strangest thing to me was being security checked in New York. We had been checked in Dallas, gotten on our plane, and then went straight into the airport. No, I did not fashion an explosive during my connecting flight, you took my dangerous toothpaste away, remember?
     So we have all these ridiculous measures that I'm sure were designed very carefully by very smart people to keep us safe. Whether that's working or not is up for debate, just not here. Oddly enough, there are other times when it seems entirely too easy to get in and out of countries. Did you bring anything awful? Why, no, sir, I most certainly did not. Fantastic, you're in. I felt that way about passport lines. Although, sometimes it is surprising how hard it is to remember your name when someone asks you. Uh..uh..oh right, I'm me.
     Israel has a bit of a reputation. Basically, it's a beast. Being attacked by all your neighbors after you move in is not exactly the jello-giving reception one hopes for. Every citizen enters the army at 18, boys for three years, and girls for two. How does this translate to airport security? Well, there is definitely no jello. Airport staff are a little scary. Hebrew is a very harsh language, similar to German. This makes for a pretty intimidating accent. At 4AM we stood in line at the airport in Tel Aviv. I made my way up to a woman wearing a military uniform. She began asking me questions and I began freaking out because I couldn't understand her. After three tries and help from some of my group I was able to decipher her asking if I had packed this luggage and if I'd been with it the whole time. I then went on to the x-ray machine that another uniformed employee tossed my suitcase into like a sack of potatoes. From this point, some passengers were asked to go to another security counter and others were allowed to continue. This is where the sad, sad, sadness happens.
     Of course, you can see that I was asked to go to the security counter. Please remember that it is now approximately 4:27 in the morning. I've had 2 hours of sleep, I still need to finish my journal for class, and I'm ready to get out of this country and away from its awful food. I've now switched tenses, something that happens when I get too excited. So here I am, standing in another line. This one is short, but slow, because a rather intense search is going on at the counter. Finally, it is my turn. But wait! A NUN CUTS IN FRONT OF ME!! That's right, a seemingly sweet little lady in a habit cuts in front of me. So with that super experience, I wait some more, and finally get up to a woman in a dark suit with that formidable, unclear accent. At this point, I have an ugly feeling in my tummy about the Dead Sea sand inside my suitcase. The woman asks me if I have any lotions or creams from the Dead Sea, and truthfully, I said no. Perhaps I should have been a little more forthcoming, but she didn't give me time to think. "Open", she said, pointing at my suitcase. I had no choice. I unzipped the compressed disaster that was my luggage. Things sort of popped up on their own. Then, the woman and a new one began digging through my belongings. They took things out and chattered back and forth in Hebrew. They were just tossing my things left and right! My delicates were out in front of everyone! I asked if I could help and she quickly barked back no. Eventually they found the sand, chattered some more, and put it down apart from my other things. She looked at the disaster that she had made and said "Close" and then the two walked away, leaving me completely bewildered in the wreckage of my suitcase. I had to wave her back over to ask if I could keep my sand. Why on earth did I have to be so invasively searched for a bag of sand I got to keep? What a horrible day and it isn't even 5:00.

     Finally, I got a plane ticket. Our wonderful tour guide, Mickey, helped me get through an airline member line. I eventually met the others at the gate and spent my last shekels on pizza hut that had a little bit of a wang. This is where the next story starts. I started that long day off by putting a motion sickness patch behind my ear. I found it pretty effective for the first trip and wasn't taking my chances on the way home. Unfortunately, by the time I made it past those kniving, little nuns and cranky Hebrews, I had forgotten my patch and its warning about drowsiness. Since that was a thing of the past, I got into my head that I was really not interested in being sick on the way home. I asked one of the women in our group for some dramamine. That's right, more drowsiness. Vewy, vewy dwowsy..
     As I hurried to finish my journal on the flight to London, my eyelids became heavier and heavier. Finally, I had a nice airline experience when all the seats on my row were empty. After scribbling down the journal, I hoarded up all the blankets and tiny pillows I could reach and passed out. Even when I flew out of Miami between a slightly creepy man and a noisy Cuban, I slept sitting straight up. Then I got home and ate chicken and dumplings and lived happily ever after. The end :)