Flying to Israel in the midst of a pandemic is most certainly a unique experience. Social distancing, mask wearing, temperature checks, empty airport lines, self-check in, flight attendants and airport personal running away from you if you get too close are just a few of the many things that made my trip unique. Sprinkle on the fact that this is the flight I will finally be making Aliyah on and you officially have uniquely unique.
There was no welcoming ceremony at the airport, no in-person handshaking with the who’s-who of Israeli society on the tarmac and not even Israeli soldiers to greet us. Instead there was an older Russian lady with a small nebbish sign that said, “Welcome to Israel” as we got off the plane.
In a small way I feel bad for missing the official Aliyah ceremony I have seen so many times on YouTube. Yet in a more mature way while I do miss it, the ceremony, while a beautiful thing in it of itself, is surely not the reason why I made Aliyah.
I made Aliyah for me.
For myself.
For my own personal growth.
Growth as a person and growth in my spirituality.
So, while yes, a ceremony would have been appreciated, my internal satisfaction of finally making the move to Israel supersedes any air-filled balloon festivities and political meet and greets (sometimes the same thing)
From the ‘Welcome to Israel sign” we shuffled down to the baggage claim where they reviewed our names for the millionth time and sat us in socially distanced chairs while they individually called us up to receive our Tehudat Oleh (immigration certificate) after which we will exchange for a Teduat Zehut (Israeli identification). It was pretty orderly and uneventful except for the crying babies who decided that 11 hours screaming on the plane isn’t enough and they just HAD to get in one more hour of crying.
Observation #1 Why is it that when people make Aliyah, they are either single and alone or are married and have 8 screaming kids, 19 strollers, 191 diaper bags, 33 carryon’s and 64 sheitel bags? Shouldn't there be some middle ground? Like a respectful mother and father with 5 well behaved and well-mannered teenage children who sit on the plane quietly reading a book. Maybe I’ll rant about it to Nefesh B’nefesh next time I call them….
Observation #2 I saw people trying to start a minyan and stewardesses yelling at them that it is against airline policy to have group prayers during a pandemic. Naturally, the shouting got louder and louder until their yelling was genuine competition to the babies on the plane. Obviously, the flight attendants won but not before the “Kiddush Hashem” people tried on no less than 3 separate times to restart the minyan "Le'shaim Shamayim". I just hope that this plane story isn’t a microcosm of what the reality is in greater Israel is cuz’ if it is, we are in some real trouble.
Annnnnyway, back to the Aliyah process at carousel #4. They gave us the proper paperwork and after we signed the necessary documents we were able to get our luggage from the carousel and line up for yet another time to figure out who goes into self-quarantine and who goes to the quarantine hotel. Since my apartment in Jerusalem won’t be ready for another two months I opted for the latter experience.
To get to the quarantine hotel they loaded us onto coach buses, but not before I kissed the ground in the main airport terminal. And no, I didn’t Lysol it before I kissed it. And yes, I definitely should have. Since there was nobody allowed to welcome any arrivals, the abandoned terminal was eerily hallowing as we marched through. Very strange feeling.
The Quarantine Hotel - An extrovert’s worst nightmare:
Being alone in a hotel room for 14 days (12 if both of the ‘rona tests comes back negative) with nothing but my luggage and my thoughts caused me to have some self-introspection as to why am I here.
Why did I leave a secure lifestyle and livelihood for an unknown halfway across the world?
How will I find a job here?
How will the job I find the right job?
Who should I date?
Where will I settle down and what does the future hold in store for me?
While I didn’t come up with any clear answers to these questions, I did come to the realization that life is not a destination.
It is a journey and a process
A journey filled with meaning, doubts, twists and turns and a process with its very own custom-made ups and downs.
I laugh nostalgically when people half my age expressively map out their life. Which community they will live in and which ones they won’t. Which Shul they will daven at, what profession they will work in and what type of woman they will marry.
Similar to how best friends in high school think they will be best friends forever.
They don’t factor something bigger than their plan.
A little thing called LIFE.
And life has a funny way of taking all the PLANS and well thought out factors you’ve set into place and throw it out the window in seconds
Its why the expression “Man plans, and God laughs” is so accurate.
The fact that we think that that we control things is funny enough for God to laugh.
And it's why I entitled my post as “My Aliyah Journey” and not “My Aliyah”.
Although the word Aliyah is frequently used in the context of moving to Israel, its literal translation is “moving up”.
And that’s how I plan on journeying through life. By going up.
Where will this journey take me?
I don’t know and God hasn’t let me in on his plans.All I know is that I have to do my part and as for the outcome only time will tell.
Shabbat Shalom from The Dan Panorama Quarantine Hotel - Tel Aviv.
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