Did anything go right? Part 4 of "The trip that goes wrong."

"Did anything go right? Did you enjoy any part of it?" Isaiah asked quietly. He and Shulamith and I sat at a large table at The Olive Garden last Thursday evening, awaiting the arrival of the rest of the family. We were gathering to celebrate a late Mother's Day since I was gone the previous Sunday, and I'd just told Isaiah my tale of woe,

The answer is, of course, yes. Some things did go right. For me, all the troubles in the beginning definitely clouded the experience; I felt sort of like an observer, rather than the participant I'd hoped to be. But yes, the tour was packed full of incredible sites, which we visited one after the other, all nine days. We stayed three nights in Magdala on the Sea of Galilee, three nights in Jerusalem, and three nights in Jordan. Each day we arose early and ate breakfast at the hotel, before boarding the tour bus at 7:30 a.m. Thirteen hours later, at around 8:30 p.m., we rolled back into the hotel to enjoy dinner before showering and crashing. The pace was relentless, and our tour guide John made it clear that he would leave anyone behind who wasn't at the right place at the appointed time throughout the day. "I even left my wife behind at the hotel once," he explained. "Turns out that was not my best decision."

I obsess over time normally, so this rigid structure only exacerbated my stress. "Where are we? What time is it? When do we need to be on the bus? How far away is it?" Multiple times every day. You get the idea. That said, I do understand the reason for John's precise schedule. He wanted us to see every last thing. And we did! I will highlight a few of my favorites:

• Nazareth Village. Here, they replicate what the city might have looked like in Jesus' time. It was very cool, and I learned a lot. I felt grateful, as I often do, that I live now. Here are some pics:

• The Sea of Galilee. Its beauty kinda speaks for itself.

• This picture lining a wall in the chapel at our hotel in Magdala. First, I want this for my house. Also, we spent part of one evening in this chapel attending a Catholic service. LOVED IT! We got to sing some contemporary Christian songs including one of my favorites,  Thy Word. Isn't it awesome that God is God is God. How we access God may be different, but God is not.

• The River Jordan. We didn't baptize anyone, but we did get to wade in it. 

• Dead Sea Float. Clearly a bucket list item. It's true. You float. Without trying. 

• The Wailing Wall, aka The Western Wall. This was definitely a high point of the tour for me, probably my second favorite thing. So amazing to see such faithful people seeking God at what is considered the holiest site in Judaism.They walked to the wall with prayer requests written on little scraps of paper, then folded and inserted them into various cracks in this wall. Placing a hand on the wall, they communed with God in prayer, then carefully backed away, taking care not to turn their backs on this holy place. It was lovely to witness.

• St. Anne's Church. This is one of my favorites of the many churches we saw on the tour. It honors Mary's mother, Anne. I'd never thought much about Mary's parents, but they deserve to be thought about. The beautiful statue depicts Anne teaching the scriptures to her young daughter, Mary.

• Garden of Gethsemane. As our tour guide, John, said repeatedly, "It was either here or it was somewhere else." But if it was somewhere else, it was still very near.

• Shabbat worship Saturday morning at BYU Jerusalem Center. What a beautiful place this is! I kept wishing I had encouraged Eli to do a summer study abroad here. 

• Jordan! Once in Jordan I was no longer as sad. It was a different bus, a different driver, a different tour guide, and I wasn't late. Jordan is like the actual desert! One of three favorite activities there was hiking to the top of this sand dune. I beat everyone else to the top, and that made me quite proud!

• I really want a pet camel. Seriously. I always thought camels were mean, but they are really the nicest animals. Mine was a sweet girl, who was very aware of me and tried so hard to make it an easy, comfortable ride. They are emotionally intelligent and will mourn the loss of an owner for a whole year.

• Petra! Can you believe they created this on the side of a rock with the most rudimentary of tools?

It was a challenging trip for sure, harder than I would have liked. I will definitely need to go back one day, so I can be on time and participate 100%. Also, I need to go when I'm not frantically grading final essays for 150 students because the semester just ended. That was far more stressful than I expected, especially the night Chrome decided to malfunction and close out only a micro-second after opening. Gerald was the hero of that night, managing to fix it, so I could continue working and ultimately submit my grades on time.

"The trip that goes wrong," indeed! But yes, a few things went right.

Never check baggage: Part 3 of "The trip that goes wrong."

Once released from the bomb shelter, we moved through Customs and headed to baggage claim. Of course our luggage wouldn't be there. Why would it? This is, after all, "The trip that goes wrong." We waited anyway, hoping for a miracle. But the miracle already happened. We were in an airport that, only minutes before, was targeted by a missile strike, and we were unharmed. Who cares about luggage? We filled out the proper forms, stating our itinerary through the week so they could deliver us our luggage, but in the end, they couldn't. After the missile strike, United suspended all flights into Tel Aviv. No flights meant no way to send luggage. Ultimately, they flew our luggage to Athens, where their Star Alliance partner could fly it to Israel. This was a great idea, but it took time. I finally received my luggage six days later, and Gerald's came two days after that.

We exited the airport, along with two other couples who were also on our tour and who happened to be on the same flight from Newark. If viewing the destruction and crater that the missile caused wasn't disconcerting enough, we also had no idea how we would find transportation from the airport to meet up with the tour. After the missile strike, no cars were allowed in, so people were gathered in masses outside the airport waiting for taxis that couldn't enter. This is when we learned of a man who would become the hero of the tour in several ways to come. We contacted our tour guide, to update him on our situation. Machmoud to the rescue! Machmoud was our Israeli tour bus driver and possibly the most well-connected person in all of Israel! He sent a friend of his to the airport to retrieve the six of us, and while the friend wasn't able to drive up to passenger pickup, he came as far as he could, then texted us his location, and we walked to find him. (I'll add that, in this scenario, it was easier not to have luggage.)

Six days without luggage was inconvenient, but it also taught me that I can be a minimalist if I have to be. I'm pretty sure I'll never become one permanently (I really like my stuff!), but it did have some advantages. I spend way, way too much time deciding what to wear. I have lots of clothes, but oftentimes they don't look quite as good at home as they did when I tried them on in the store. I have clothes crises on the regular. Not a problem when you have exactly two sets of clothes to your name, the one you wore for the past 30+ hours and the one you obediently packed in your carry-on because the tour suggested you do so. 

How did I last six days with only the sweats and t-shirt I wore to travel and the leggings and t-shirt I had in my backpack? I rotated the sweats and leggings each day. For some reason, it felt less grimy to rotate them, even though they definitely weren't getting washed between wearings. As for tops, after the first two days, I bought a new t-shirt every day, wherever we happened to be; now I have a bunch of t-shirt souvenirs!

May I offer some advice for your future travels: 

1. Never check baggage.

2. If you do check baggage, here are some things to pack in your carry-on:

• One extra set of clothes. It might not be enough, but it's a start. 
• Underwear. I brought one extra set, but then had to wash them out each night and hang them to dry.
• Hair products, especially if you're like me and need specific brands.
• Makeup/skin care. I almost packed this in my suitcase; so grateful I stuck it in my carry-on instead!
• Bathing suit. I had to borrow a pair of board shorts and wear a t-shirt to float in the Dead Sea. It worked, but I looked like a frump.
• Toothbrush and toothpaste. You might be in a location where you could easily buy these, but I wasn't. I had to borrow some of these Wisps from a kind woman on the tour.
• Travel blanket, in case you're stuck in an airport overnight, crying.
• Socks. Feet get cold on planes.
• Snacks. Candy makes everything better.

3. Never check baggage.

Is it safe to travel to Israel? Part 2 of "The trip that goes wrong."

 After a grueling night under a table in the Houston airport, I flew to Newark. We couldn't get seats on the same flight, so Gerald came two hours later, and soon we were boarding another flight headed to Tel Aviv. This one was successful, and after eleven hours, we landed at the Ben Gurion Airport. Ragged from two days of travel without a bed or shower, we stumbled into the terminal and lined up at Passport Control. 

Within just a few minutes, chaos ensued. Sirens blared around us as airport personnel herded everyone into a stairwell and down to a cement enclosure. It seemed my degree of exhaustion left me helpless to feel much emotion. Had I been less tired, I might have been scared? Had I known what was happening, I for sure would have been. As we were directed into the stairwell, I looked at one young airport employee and asked, "Why are we going in here?" He didn't speak English but understood enough to replay, "Safer." What? Safer from what? Were we having some sort of emergency drill? I looked around for someone who might speak English and took a chance on a kind-looking lady standing near me wearing a badge to identify her as airport security. "What's happening?" I asked. "Yemen Missile strike," she replied.

Is it safe to travel to Israel? In that moment, it surely didn't feel that way. We were in lockdown for around 30 minutes, after which, we were allowed to go back up to the terminal and continue passing through Customs. The officer who checked our documents apologized, "Sorry for the 'excitement' only minutes after you arrived. Welcome to Israel." And that was that. Business as usual moving forward. It was odd, but since everyone else around me returned to normal, I did too. 

While waiting for luggage, I searched for information on the attack. Sure enough Yemen had launched a missile targeted at the Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv. Fortunately, its aim wasn't perfect. It landed outside the airport but not too far away. We didn't see the damage until we exited, but that will be part of tomorrow's installment of "The trip that goes wrong," so stay turned!

"Houston, we have a problem": Part 1 of "The trip that goes wrong."

Houston, we have a problem.

And that problem is weather. 

And no one can control the weather. 

Friday, May 2nd, we left home at 5:30 a.m. It was clear and crisp and calm as we drove to Eli’s house. He volunteered to drive us to the airport, partly because he loves us, and partly so Amanda could use my van for the two weeks. They only have one car, so she uses mine on Wednesdays to take Jane to dance class. This way, she could have it the whole time I was gone. Eli dropped us at the United entrance, where we boarded a flight to Houston, landed without incident, and grabbed some Panda Express. I thought of my favorite Seth. I rarely eat Panda, but Seth loves it there. 

In no time, we were boarding the second leg of our journey, this time a 10-hour flight to Munich. Those who know me, know that I’ve never been to Germany and that my biggest regret in life is giving up a year-long study abroad experience at the University of Munich my junior year of college. I had the funding in place and was all set to go. Then, just as I was making the final arrangements for the study abroad, my dad died. And I didn’t go. I didn’t have the bandwidth to proceed. I didn’t have the bandwidth to do much of anything right then. I should have, though. I should have pushed through the pain and made it happen, because that opportunity would never present itself again. “No man ever steps into the same river twice, for it's not the same river, and he's not the same man" (Heraclitus). 

So it’s a twisted bit of irony that my first time in Germany would be an hour and a half in the Munich airport. 

As we boarded the plane, an older lady just in front of me in the crowed aisle, stepped back abruptly and bumped in to me. "Entschuldigung," she said. Without hesitation, I responded, “Kein Problem, alles ist gut.” As it turned out, that brief conversation in German would be the happiest part of my entire day.

We found our seats and settled in for the long flight. I had my travel blanket ready, along with AirPods, Kindle, and snacks. I was going to the Holy Land, on a tour I’d planned for over two years! I remember very little about what happened next. It was the typical message from the flight deck, welcoming us to the flight, the safety announcement, where they demo how to fasten and unfasten a seatbelt. Flight attendants scurried around doing pre-flight stuff, which I ignored, and soon we were taxiing out to the runway. 

After that.....nothing.

 

We sat on that tarmac. 

In the plane.

 

Not moving.

For seven hours. 

Yes, you read that right: seven hours! Because of weather. Thunderstorms, specifically. During those seven hours, we did many of the things we would have done had we been in the air. I bought internet and logged into my spring classes. I was still grading final writing projects from 150 students. We received frequent updates from the flight deck. We couldn’t take off because of the thunderstorm. The airport closed, and no flights were taking off or landing. The airport reopened because the storm passed, but we were 54th in line to take off. Then another thunderstorm. Rinse and repeat. 

As time passed, passengers began to wander the aisles, chatting with each other and with flight attendants, doing stretching exercises and calisthenics. I sat in my seat and graded essays. Until that one moment. That one moment when it became clear that regardless of what happened, I would not make it to Israel in time to join the start of the tour Sunday morning at 7:45. There were simply not enough hours left. 

I maintained a stoic facade, but I was crying deep and ugly on the inside. I had planned this trip for over two years, and right there on that airplane, on the tarmac in Houston, it was all falling apart. Those who know me, also know that I am never late. Never. If I’m going to be late (which rarely, rarely happens), I don’t go at all. In this case, I was either going to buy a return flight to Salt Lake City, or I was going to arrive late to my tour, and neither option was acceptable. My anxiety raged. My support network at home (Shulamith, Eli, and Amanda) frantically tried to come up with a solution. There was no solution. 

I need to stop here and give a huge shoutout to the United in-flight crew, They were fabulous. They didn't like the circumstances any more than we passengers did, and they were equally powerless to change them. But they tried to help in every way possible with snacks, drinks, and as much information as they had (which wasn't a lot). Also, kudos to the captain of the fight, who offered frequent, transparent updates. I didn't like the information he was providing, but I trusted that it was accurate.

In the end, after seven hours on that plane, the regretful captain announced that we would be taxiing back to the gate. The flight was canceled, though he was told that a new flight, with a fresh crew, would depart later that night, and we could take that one. 

Didn't happen. We exited the plane to a ground crew who knew nothing about a later flight, and we were left on our own to make new plans. Gerald booked us on flights to Tel Aviv through Newark, leaving the following morning. With so many canceled and delayed flights, there were no available hotel rooms nearby, so we were stuck at the airport overnight.

I wrapped myself up in my soft, cuddly travel blanket, sat under a table in the Houston airport, and sobbed. My dream trip, the one I'd been planning for over two years, was ruined.

Have you ever read "Jude the Obscure" by Thomas Hardy? it's one of my favorite novels, but dang it's dark. When I read it for the first time, at one point, I literally threw the paperback across the room. Seriously, Tom? What the actual hell? I remember thinking to myself, "The only thing worse that could happen is _____________________." Then I turned the page, and it did.

That's kinda how this experience was. So if you want to know what worse thing happened next, stay tuned for tomorrow's installment of "The trip that goes wrong."