Making Aliyah: The landing

The blood dripping from my nose tasted salty and I wondered if that's the way blood always tasted or if I had some leftover airplane peanut shells on my upper lip. I had just emerged from a 13-hour aliyah flight full of religious people singing, rebellious babies crying, and redundant Israeli immigration workers questioning my reasons for making aliyah. Nonetheless, it was a welcome return to the land of my forefathers and four mothers when we rejoiced in song and cheers as the wheels of the 747 touched-down. 

On the tarmac at Ben Gurion Airport I felt like an exiled former dictator returning home on the same plane as a returning Eurovision champion. Flowers, cheering crowds, and a spread of sandwiches were waiting on the runway, but no-one was really there to see me. The plane evacuated in a mob of head-covered humanity eager to reunite with their loved ones and tuna baguettes. 

When the crowd parted I fell to my knees and decided to perform the necessary cliché no matter how silly I looked or how little French I knew.

This moment was a dream and I was truly blessed. Holding my breath for the second I had dreamed about since the first time I heard Hatikva and laughed at the word 'snot' [....hatikva bat shnot alpaaiiiimmm] in our solemn national anthem, I bent down to kiss the sacred black asphalt.

Then it happened... the back of my head was smacked by my carry-on knapsack filled with granola bars, large books on Judaism and a document-file as large as the permanent record I was so often threatened with in elementary school.

My oversized, pride-filled Jewish nose smashed against the hard petroleum. Blood drained from my nostrils, embarrassment poured into my cheeks, and an overweight Haredi man stepped on the back of my ankle without so-much as an apology. 

This special and miraculous moment in time moved slowly like the express line at the Zol Po supermarket on Friday afternoon. My mind flooded with a collage of thoughts; "Was the peanut shells on my lip the reason the 18-year-old girl beside me on the plane put on her iPOD while I was in the middle of telling her only the good parts of my life story?" "Did I leave anything on the plane or back in Canada that I need in the next 5 minutes or 5 years?" "Is a picture of my bloodied face going to end up on the cover of some Reform Judaism Newsletter with the tag line 'Orthodox Women Jump New Immigrant and Beat Him with Tefillin Boxes?'"

The lesson was as loud and painful as Tel Aviv Central Station's speaker system announcing the next train....for every joy in Israel there is a little pain....and someone stepping on your ankles.

Born and raised in Toronto, Canada, Darrell finished his B.Sc at the University of Western Ontario and worked for a Toronto pharmaceutical company for 2.5 years. He began living the Canadian dream with a nice house, a fast car and a comfortable couch. However, he was never comfortable and felt a hole in his soul too big for even the largest plasma screen TV to fill. He resigned from his job and ended up in Israel learning at a Yeshiva in the Old City of Jerusalem for 5 months. During his time in Yeshiva, he decided Israel is where he wants to be and he made Aliyah in August 2005. He immediately began studying at the Technion towards his M.Sc and was drafted into the IDF in May 2008.

Stay tuned for more aliyah stories from Darrell Ginsberg in the coming weeks.