The Dream Turns Nightmarish

That title is a bit of an exaggeration, but it didn’t seem so at the time.

As the weeks went by, I made air reservations and began planning and purchasing the things I’d need to take for the hiking trip--collapsible trekking poles, wicking shirts, cooling towels and the like.

In the middle of it all a family emergency threatened to put a hold on things or at least postpone them. My daughters encouraged me to continue on with the trip and ultimately I decided to do so. Since then the situation has stabilized.

As days inched closer to my departure on September 12, 2016, I got a phone call that stunned me, but it shouldn’t have. I coordinated Road Scholar programs at ECCO for eleven years, and I should have remembered that no program is a guaranteed “go” unless it has more than minimum enrollment at least two months before program date. The Israel hiking program didn’t.

I should have expected it.

Israel in September is hot (and humid). As Betty reminded me more than once, it wasn’t an ideal time to hike. But the confluence of dates and events told me that September was when I was supposed to go.

Road Scholar is a class act. They suggested an alternative program, called, appropriately enough, The Journey of a Lifetime: Israel and Jordan, with dates close to my original planning.  I didn’t even want to consider it since it wasn’t a hiking program, but I sent the itinerary off to Betty anyhow. Her reply:  “Doobie and I want to go with you. This program is FABULOUS. You’ll get to do things even we haven’t been able to do.”  She was especially excited about the possibility of visiting Petra in Jordan. I hate to admit it, but I really wasn’t familiar with it, other than its setting as part of “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade”--and that was pretty foggy since I hadn’t seen the film in many years.

After I got over my initial sulk and analyzed the new reality, as well as several e-conversations with Betty, it sunk in that this would be an even better scenario than the original one. I could keep the same air reservations, arrive in Tel Aviv a few days before the new program would start--and spend that time with Betty and Doobie. Even better, the program dates would put me just twenty minutes away from Betty and Doobie’s home on the date of her birthday. I could play hooky from the program and spend the evening celebrating with my friends. At the end, they would come to Jerusalem to see me off and say farewell. The program, while not hiking per se, was also active enough to make sure I’d get my 10K steps per day.

Thoughts of the  flights were enough to give me an upset stomach. In the past I’d had problems dealing with flights to and from Alaska, which were fairly minimal compared to the trip to Israel. But the end result would be worth it.

I bought a neck pillow, extra cell phone batteries and a battery charger plus my battery pack for both the Kindle and the cell, so I’d be semi-comfortable and have plenty of entertainment.

Three months prior, I started packing, throwing stuff I thought I would need into the suitcase, revising as I went along. Last minute I debated taking a backpack vs a tote bag. The tote bag won out. Wrong choice. Note to self:  Pack light; keep hands free. Fumbling with bags, passports, credit cards, cash is ridiculous. Minimal is best.

One smart move I made:  Purchasing a neck wallet and a money belt. Those two things went a long way toward helping me feel secure. The neck wallet holds credit cards, passport, money and can also hold a cell phone within easy reach. The money belt sits comfortably out of sight underneath your shirt. No worries about someone snatching a bag off your shoulder.

Other than a nearly four-hour delay in the flight from Fresno to Los Angeles (I almost could have driven faster), the flight over went smoothly, far better than I expected. A layover in Newark gave me time to grab lunch, walk around and check in for the next leg. Although I had a window seat from Newark to Tel Aviv, the middle seat was empty, so both the fellow in the aisle seat and I had enough room to be as comfortable as you can be in a flying tin can.

Despite what I expected to be a barrage of questions at Israeli security/passport control, I breezed through with no problems.

This is what awaited on the other side:

Twenty-three years apart vanished in the blink of an eye.