Moving on up, We're moving on out.....

The only way is up, baby, for you and me now

I love you Candy Bag

My naughty little deserting husband returneth, and totally sweetened the blow of leaving me by bringing a new handbag home with him (for me - not him).  It's out of control crazy - but I love it, so he's totally off the hook.  I've also stopped driving for now and don't even have to catch taxis because my chauffeur is back.  All kerbside bins, and many Ethiopians throughout the city have all breathed a collective sign of relief.  Am I a pussy?  Of course.  Do I care?  Not so far.  The fact that I am alive and our car is intact takes over any feelings I may have been holding onto about inadequacy.

See - it's all about the cream trench

Talking of feelings relating to inadequacy, with the girls in Kindy - or "Gan"  pronounced "Gun",  I have been thinking about my new career path.  Naturally I have decided to live out my dream and become a spy.  Being in Israel, I'm sure there's some spying to be had in the near vicinity.  The only issue is, if I'm too gutless to drive to the shop and get milk, how the fuck am I going to carry out espionage across international borders?  It's true, I haven't thought about the logistics.  I have only given thought to the romantic image of standing on the corner of a dark coblestoned street in a cream trench coat (I have one ready to go) and a pair of sunglasses (3 suitable candidates to choose from here), with a hat.  I wait alone, poised with my coded identifier as the possible contact walks towards me.  I tentatively offer my rehearsed phrase - "The cherry blossoms are beautiful in April " and hopefully prepare for the response "How lovely the lagoon appears by moonlight".  When the correct answer comes, I relax my grip on my bone detailed hand-gun, snugly tucked away in my coat pocket.  Then I slip the secret disc to my fellow spy with my other hand, whisper "God speed to you Sir", and disappear discretely into the shadowy night.

Like I was never even there.......

Beware indeed

It's a satisfying daydream.  In reality I would probably have to have anal sex with really unattractive Arabs with hairy shoulders, and take pictures of messages on their iphones while they're asleep.  It doesn't sound good.  I would have to be toughened up a lot too - (especially in the arsehole region).  I'm sure there's some kind of spy course I could take - Spying 101 or perhaps I could read "Espionage For Dummies" or something.  At times like this, I imagine Chalks coming to pick me up from my spy training course and the administrators saying - "Oh, Emily's down in dungeon 3, you can pop down there if you like".  And there am I, chained up naked to a stone wall while one of the instructors throws buckets of icy cold water on me.  Chalks would be like "Honey are you Ok??????".... I'd be like "Yeah, yeah, totally fine - 3 buckets to go and an quick electrocution, I'll be up in about 15"........

Keep away from my anus, apeman

Perhaps not......What we actually have been doing a lot of lately is apartment searching.  Although we were told that finding an apartment in Tel Aviv is murder, we basically found one on the first look.  We viewed a second one for the sole reason of saying that we had looked at more than one - but it was pretty unappealing - some people's "style" really makes you question what on earth they had in mind for their home environment.  The light fitting alone burnt out my retinas, and it wasn't even switched on.  Therefore, we negotiated and agreed on a final contract for the first viewed one last week, and we sign for it in 2 days.  Piss easy.  I was trying to be all casual and nonchalant when we initially looked at it's glory, but every time the agent turned around I was mouthing " I LOOOOOVVVVVEEEEE It" behind his back to Chalks.  I did love it, and still do.  We move in on the old ball and chain's birthday.

The random bed room

It will be good to move out of our current apartment.  As far as Tel Aviv apartments go it's not bad.  Unusually clean for a start.  Decent location.  But the kid's room is a bit quirky.  It consists only of beds.  Three in a row taking up the entire room.  I commented on it when we first walked in.  But the agent acted like there was nothing going on with having a room made entirely of beds.  So I shut my trap.  The girls have been having fun in there.  A little too much fun I think.


When I used to put them to bed at night - there would be 10 mins of chatski and then it was lights out for both of them.  These days they roll around on the giant bed for about an hour before they finally drop off from complete exhaustion.  There's usually at least 3 brawls that have to be dealt with during that time.  Tonight's was particularly disturbing.  I heard Valli screaming and came in to find Cordi pressing a pillow into her face going "Sorry Valli, Sorry Valli".  It really was not the kind of thing you want to walk in on.  Child suffocation can only end badly for everyone.  Apparently Cordi had bit Valli on the nose and was attempting to muffle her screams......nice.  I think I have a child murderer on my hands.  Strange - I always though that if either of them was going to top the other one it would be Valli leading the murder rampage.  You live and learn......or don't.....depending on which side of the pillow you're on.

Valli takes revenge the next day

So we're moving out soon and into a place of our own - after all these years!!! Finally I will have a mattress devoid of strangers sweat stains and piles of dead skin that build up in layers of yellowing filth, being slowly feasted on by miniature skin eating bugs and grotty little scabies. Finally I will be able to make toast without having other people's 2 year old stale and burnt crumbs spilling out the bottom of the toaster every time I move it.  Finally I will be able to clean the drains in the bathroom without getting my fingers entangled in a rotting mass of strangers pubes.  And FINALLY I will able to clean the skids off the side of the toilet bowl without the tiny pieces of the previous tenant's water-logged poo poo and disintegrating toilet paper falling off the toilet brush onto the bathroom floor.  These are the things that really please.  I'm excited.  And even more excited that we get to fill the joint with all the presents that everyone gave us for our wedding in February - thanks for that by the way everyone, at least you are all good for something.

I know what I want in the bedroom

But of course we need to do some shopping for quite a few items still.  We've been visiting shop after shop of late, looking and searching for suitable items that we think we can live with.  It's kind of hard trying to imagine how you want the style of your future life to be when you haven't given it that much thought before.  I'd given thought to things I DIDN'T want - mainly while I was sitting on/lying on/standing on/using them.  But not so much thought to what I actually wanted instead.  Israelis are big on the Italian look.  Personally I don't like it.  Too flashy and too expensive.  We visited a design centre today and looked at heaps of overpriced items.  It's all about the moving mattress over here - do you know what I mean? - the mattress with the remote controlled machine in it  - kind of like a hospital bed.  It's a novelty, I'll give it that.  But I don't like it.  Who wants to be upright when they're asleep?  If you are too lazy to prop up with a couple of pillows when necessary, might I suggest that you need to take a long hard look at yourself.   Plus, I thought the defining feature of a bed was that it was flat. Am I wrong here?  We also discovered a furniture shop there that truly had to be seen to be believed.  It was the High Class Syrian Brothel Look (I think I just invented a new style of decor).  I tried to take pictures of the giant glass disco ball over the mirrored velvet puffy bed for your entertainment (and mine), but was banned and thus kicked out by the pimp shop manager.  Couldn't get a snap of the giant crystal swan either as I was ushered out.

Here's one of a giant silver horse I took somewhere else though

Can't you just imagine old Silver Beauty as the centrepiece of your lounge room?

We also went somewhere today that neither of us have ever been before - for moral reasons.  It's mainly because of despising the fact that almost every place we have ever stayed in - all around the world for the last ten years - has been decked out entirely in it's wares.......Mother Fucking IKEA.  As we went to walk in those yellow and blue doors, Chalky announced that he felt like he was losing his virginity for the very first time.  That nervous, anxious feeling, almost instinctively knowing you were going to like it too much, even though you knew you shouldn't.  It was for good reason that we had these trepidations.  That place is intoxicating.  It won us over immediately by the free hour of child minding offered by a grumpy looking employee on guard in front a huge room of toys, games and the largest ball pit I have ever laid eyes on.
 

Some grotty randoms

The kids were off without a glance (as usual), and we were on our own and loose in IKEA.  Although we felt physically ill whenever we spotted a familiar item - a doona cover, a chair, plastic baby high chairs, espresso cups etc - the pleasing bargain prices win you over in the end.  I get it, I finally get it.  My resistance has been worn down and I am reluctantly proud to admit that I am an IKEA Whore.  Why the fuck would anyone spend 800 bucks on a child's bed in some smancy design store when you can get 2 beds, a set of shelves, a wardrobe, a table, 2 chairs, a desk, a light, 2 full sets of bedding, a rug and a giant ladybird for the same price.  Fuck quality - they're 4 years old for gods sake - more is more.
 

I can't help it - I find this cute

The crockery section is also enticing, as are tables and chairs.....but the cushion area, the lounge room set ups, the rugs and the towels made me feel all cheap and dirty inside.  You have to learn when to say no.  How much is enough before you start to cheapen yourself with weird and twisted longing for perversity?  You must tear yourself away before it's too late.

So back to our new apartment.....It is 3 bedroom - so all you bastards who said you were coming to visit, you better move those butts and get over here.  I know I can now entice you by declaring that you will sleep on, and under, IKEA's finest wares.  And if that doesn't seal the deal, I might add that our spare bedroom actually doubles at the "safe room".  How's that for a dose of reality over this side of the world.  Most buildings and apartments have their own bomb shelter.  A reinforced room of impenetrable thick steel and other protective stuff.  Good news too if you're a brawling type of couple - you can scream and throw shit at your partner from the safety of inaccessible dwellings.  Stash some water and some canned peaches in there and you wouldn't need to come up for air until 2014. Even if your husband called the fire brigade they'd have issues cutting you out in time to make dinner. In fact you may never need to make dinner again.

I'm seriously going to have some fun with that room, I can feel it.

My new coffee table

Getting Jiggy With Teli

Hello Lover

So how has life been since touching down at Ben Gurion International Airport to begin our new life in The Holy Land?  Well, let me see.  Not so holy so far.  But you never know.  I spent the first few days in a sort of jetlaged, traumatised, exhausted haze.  Snoozing in the afternoons and eating far too much hummus.  My kind of life.  Not sure if it was legitimate jetlag though, or just a wallow.  Wallowing is sometimes fun.  You refuse to leave the house, eat in bed and get crumbs everywhere, and wear leggings without underpants when you do sneak out to the shop to get more hummus.

But unfortunately there was a lot to do - the time was not yet nigh to become a morbidly obese recluse with crumbs stuck to my leggings and a birds nest the size of a small dog at the back of my head.....one day.....one fine day........

I've visited Israel many times before - but I want to take just a tiny bit of time to describe what it is like here in Tel Aviv upon first viewing when everything is fresh.

Nice

Boulevard

The first thing that comes across is how fast paced everything is. The city isn't massive - about 400 000 people live here - but it feels crowded and a little frantic on occasion. It's definitely noisy.  If you ever think of knocking up a pad here -and there is a lot of construction going on - invest in some double glazing. But as busy and crowded as it is, it is also extremely beautiful and inviting.


The Mediterranean Sea stretches entirely along the west of the city - from the ancient southern port of Yafo - or Jaffa - an area teaming with really old buildings, flea markets and a large Arab population - up to the northern part of Tel Aviv, past the new port - which is a modern collection of outdoor restaurants and big name shops along a huge boardwalk.  Running alongside the beach is a wide, flat, paved boulevard, which is totally chockers, at all times of the day and night.  There are scores of runners, walkers, bikers, rollerbladers, skateboarders, kids, oldies, (and everyone in between), dogs, cats, pigeons, people playing board games, masses of people getting right into a type of paddle board game, dancing groups, beach cafes, exercise equipment, kid's play equipment and seriously hot bodies wearing very few clothes.  The beach is always packed - even at this time of year - late October.  Usually this is a time when most of the Northern Hemisphere is breaking out the duffel coats and ordering stew.  Not here.  The weather is sublime, and everyone is sunbaking and surfing and swimming and rolling in the sand.  The temperature is in the high 20s at the moment, and the sea is warm.  Summer seems to stretch on for a good 9 months of the year.

Jaffa

Tel Aviv cafe life

This beachside part and lifestyle, frames Tel Aviv, and in my opinion is one thing that makes it so incredibly special.  Throughout the rest of the city - which is called "The White City" due to the style of architecture and colour of the buildings - life is pumping.  Streetside cafes with leafy plants and a retro edge are packed at all times, and locals and tourists spill out onto the streets late into the night.  Everybody here seems to have a lot to say, so the atmosphere is always buzzing with people having extremely animated conversations.  There is a lot of beeping and even more traffic. People ride their bikes on the footpath without helmets, and you wonder how they mange to avoid the crowds of pedestrians.  Hoards of dogs walk the streets with their owners, and freely poo everywhere.  All I can say is keep a look out.  Dogshit on your white loafers is not a thing of the past in Israel.   Lots of fresh juice stands overflow with displays of all kinds of fruit.  It is pomegranate season right now, and when you ask for a large rimon  - the dark crimson juice comes out with a kind of "crack" as the fruity seeds explode from the metal juice pressers.

Almost like brains really......

Night time action

Mmmmm

The coffee is good, as is pretty much anything you order in restaurants.  It always seems so fresh and unbelievably tasty, and salad is served with anything you ask for.  It's almost worth a visit to the country for the sole purpose of stuffing your face - and I will need to write several posts to properly address the pure deliciousness of what is going on here.

In some parts of the Tel Aviv, the trees are old and gnarled, and spill across the concrete and up through the cement.  They shade the dusty streets from the unrelenting sun that is part of life in the Middle East.  Olive trees drop their fruit all over the city streets, which shrivel in the sun and get squashed underfoot.  There are many shady parks packed full of play equipment for the hoards of children Tel Aviv is home to.  People typically know English, which makes it easy for us slacker types who rely on "Efshar beh Anglit" (Is it possible in English?) to get by.  But actually, I want to know what's going on around me - what people are saying to each other, and to me.  Passersby throw comments around all the time.  The city is alive, it is welcoming and it is fun.

City Trees

Shlomi and his mates give their all

Sometimes when wandering around, you hear pumping trance, and think to yourself "What?  A street party???"And a street party it is - for five extremely religious dudes going all out - dancing their way to a techno ecstasy, riding large on a religious high.  A couple of the guys dance in the traffic, one rocks out on the roof of the bass shaking van, one goes crazy near passersby, and another hands out reading material with a picture of some old hippy-looking religious dude wearing a dirty dressing gown.  He looks happy enough though.  Chalks and I wondered how the cult of the religious trance gang kicked off,  because it is world's away from most of the religious guys you occasionally spot around town (Tel Aviv is the city of sin - so larger numbers of the religious are mostly living in Jerusalem).  We decided that a few years back - possibly in the mid 90s - some Israelis dudes, who were taking far too much acid on the beaches of Goa, had some kind of religious epiphany while listening to some sick techno track.......and thus it begun......Trancing for The Lord.

Insane amounts of sugar going on here

Talking of joy, Valli and Cordi started their first day of Kindergarden a few days after we arrived.  They were so excited.  They immediately raced in and started on a Winnie The Pooh puzzle and didn't even register my tragic grabs for attention.  Cordi threw me an exasperated "BYE Mum" over her shoulder on my fourth attempt for some goodbye love.  Valli ignored me totally.  I crept away dejected.  All the other mothers were saying how jealous they were that the girls didn't bawl and cling to my skirt (one mother said it took her an hour every morning to shake her son off her leg) - but to be honest, it was a shock (and a possible blow to the ego - was I not adored??? Those bloody ingrates - I will beat them until they love me).  No wonder they are having the time of their lives though.  Israel is a kid's paradise.  They have already attended 2 birthday parties (one with 2 bouncy castles, a pile of pizza and cake, and a mountain of lollies), and have another party for a set of twins coming up this Friday.  They go to the playground everyday, attend art classes across town, and already know everyone in their class by name.  They've picked garden produce, had a jam session and gone beach crazy - including going psycho nude with their cousin Mia under the beach showers.  They seem to have slotted in nicely.

Liad and Cordi duet

Group Jam

Munching out on top of mosaics

Cordi plucks an eggplant form the vine

Beach times

True Happiness

Nude Screaming

For me, I think it's going to take a little longer.  For one, there's the previously mentioned language issues.  Then there's the public face of politeness I have, that doesn't really mesh with the Israelis in Israel effect.  And then there's the driving.  But first, let's tackle the issues we had getting a rental car here.  Chalks had decided that he was going to hire a nice car for our time here.  Why not?,  thought he.  But first we had to hire a crapmobile and drive it to the outskirts of the city to get our hands on a good one.  Upon arrival, the young dude rolled up in front of us with the most banged up Mercedes I have ever seen.  That's also the thing here.  Every single car in this city is covered with more scrapes and dents than a bronze statue of George W Bush in the central square of Baghdad.  Filling out the vehicle condition report takes about 20 minutes and stretches over an entire page.  We got in and it totally stunk of ciggies.  In violation of the 'No Smoking' sign there had been a cigarette actually stubbed out on the back seat.  The young guy's response "This is Israel.  There are no rules".  I guess he had a point.  It was seriously disgusting though.  To fix the problem, the detailing dude hung an air freshener from the rear vision mirror.  Now it smelt like a toilet.  A toilet in which the occupant had smoked a lot of ciggies.  Chalks pointed out this very fact to the attendant, and she laughed.  We drove away in the crapmobile.

A fucking mess

And now to the driving.  I'm pretty sure I went on about this long and hard last time I was here, including my refusal to get behind the wheel.  Well, with my dearly beloved jetsetting off to Amsterdam to run a marathon (Yeah, SURE that was what he was doing), I found myself alone, and with the primary responsibility for driving the girls to school everyday.  I'm not the greatest on the other side of the road.  Actually, I'm not the greatest on any side of the road.  But when I'm driving on the right I seem to have severe issues in judging the front passenger corner.  This was only too apparent on the first day I drove the girls to and from school on my lonesome.  I have only one driving repertoire - and that is - to school and home from school.  Apart from that I have nothing.  So you can imagine my distress when our driveway was blocked by some arsehole with his hazard lights on.  Anyone who intends to drive here, get used to those hazard lights - never will they get more use than in Tel Aviv.  Stop anytime anywhere - it's fine as long as you flick that flashing switch.  Feel like parking on the footpath over a pathetic tourist's driveway?  Go the old faithful hazards, no probs at all.

But of course it was a problem.....for me.  Unable to pull in I was forced to cross into unfamiliar territory and drive on.  I started sweating.  I had to drive all the way to the school, and then all the way back, just so that I would know the way.  I was panicking the car would still be there and lost focus for a second.  SMASH!!! - I hit one of those kerbside green garbage bins on the passenger side at full speed.  Whoops.  I could see nearby people throwing up their hands in disgust in the rear vision mirror as I sped on.......and forgot to look straight ahead.  An Ethiopian crossed the road right in front of me and to avoid an actual death of more than a rubbish bin, I had to slam on the brakes as hard as I could. The jaywalking fool's life was spared.  By this stage I was sweating and shaking.  You can imagine my horror when I spotted the hazard flasher still parked over my precious driveway.

I remembered Chalk's words "To get anything done in this country you have to go mental".  No problem, I am actually mental, so it was barely a stretch.  I started beeping and yelling "Who's car is this???"  "Who's BLOODY car is this????".  More beeping, more yelling.  I saw some guy spot me from inside an office and he came out.  Imagining him to be the perpetrator, I cranked up the screaming "Get this car out of my way, I can't get into my driveway.  I've been driving round for an hour, for the love of GOD!!!".  Then he started screaming his head off at me "It's not my car, I don't know who's car it is, what do you want from MEEEEEEEE".  And then back to an now hysterical me, "I just want that idiot to move his FUCKING CAR!!!" And so on and so on......In the end a passerby took pity on my and directed me around the offending vehicle through a space tighter than my year 12 formal dress.  I had already started sobbing.  By the time I got into my apartment I was really howling.  I had failed in my first fight.  Poor Valli and Cordi - what a display for a couple of 4 year olds.  It was awful.  I was feeling really shit about myself, and despairing of my abilities to cope on my own in an unfamiliar land.  But then Valentina slipped her little hand into mine, and with concern she said the cutest thing I have ever heard her say (and the list is long),

"It's a busy world out there Mum".

And so it is my darling.  So it is.

Unexpectant Entrance into Eritrea

Chalks dressed appropriately for today

Sometimes it happens.  And when it does, there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, and no way out of it.

Cordi struggles with check-in

We got off to a dubious start during our check-in to Israel when some dickhead left his suitcase out in the open while he wandered off to grab a snack from the Family Mart.  One abandoned suitcase in the check-in zone for a flight to Israel equals mass panic, and an evacuation carried out with such speed and dedication that the dogs were sent in before the dude even popped the top off his sour cream and chive pringles.

I should have sensed there was going to be trouble from that moment.  But who really expects the shiz to hit the fan?  It’s always a shock.  But the way I think of it, with the amount of flying we’ve racked up, our number is constantly and fast moving towards being up.

This was too subtle.  I went hot pink with monkeys

To kick things off, we didn’t have the means available to take a points ticket in business class.  Although we don’t usually travel in the higher end of the plane on short trips, on anything longer than 6 hours – and especially an overnighter – warrants a points upgrade in our opinion.  It wasn’t possible.  As the flight took off at midnight, the girls were already goners, folded over and around our shoulders like lumpy and weighty scarves, as we struggled with our excess of luggage.

The plane was chockers.  Completely full.  A total pain in the arse.  You always hold out for the holy grail of economy class – a 4-seater all to yourself.  But as airfare prices fall, and planes are packed fuller than ever, that becomes an unlikely scenario, and this time it was more so than ever.  Faced with a unpleasant night I went somewhere where I had vowed never to go.  A place I reserved for mockery and the shaming of others (especially those who wore them round the airport before boarding).  Yes, I am talking about the neck-pillow, and I finally got pushed over the line by a friend whose advice I respect (deep, deep, deep down), who encouraged me to try one out.

I admit it, it does prevent the dreaded crick in the neck from getting all flopsy when you’re on the nod.  And I would like to attribute my 6 hours of sleep to it’s hot pink and monkey covered presence around my shoulders.

After copping a foot hard to the boob about 8 and a half hours into the flight,  I woke up with my bladder bursting.  I stood in line outside the tiny cubicle and smiled at a tatty blonde haired woman waiting in front of me.  Then came the announcement that you never want to hear uttered while 40 000 feet above the ground.  First in Hebrew, and then English:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have just lost one of our two engines and have been forced to attempt an emergency landing, please return to your seats, and prepare yourselves and belongings for impact”.

I'm not going to lie, it wasn't good.

Just not much going on here

As we broke through the thick grey clouds on a sharp trajectory down I looked out across the landscape below.  The early morning light had only just swept the sky and all I could see were plains of orange grass.  Not one sign of civilization.  Eye contact with my fellow passengers was a bad idea – you can see your own fear reflected in their faces.  Unfortunately my husband had been seated alone several rows away from us, so I couldn’t even hold his hand for comfort.  All I could do was to place a hand on each of the girls and wonder if it was too late to pray.

It actually looked like we were going to land in the long grass – only later a girl next to me said she could see the small strip we were headed for.  We hit hard.  And with one engine functioning in reverse, it seemed like the slow down was never going to happen.  But of course it did.  We were safely on the ground.

In Asama, Eritrea.

Bustling

Going nowhere in a hurry

Not exactly uplifting image here

I was one of a few ignorant types that had never heard of the small African nation that borders Ethiopia and Somalia, but I would forever remember it now.  It is safe to say that it is one of the most destitute countries on the face of the planet.  It is also predominantly Muslim, and possibly a place where you just don’t want to show up in a white plane with a blue Star of David on the tail and Israel plastered across the side - although Israel does have an Israeli ambassador there (he turned up and posed for pictures with the passengers), and the Israeli government  calls it "the only friendly port on the Red Sea".  We were lucky, dam lucky - if we had had to land in Egypt or Sudan it could have been an international incident.

Any further interest in this tiny country I know nothing about?  If so, read on.....

 "Roughly the size of Pennsylvania, Eritrea has a population of at least 6 million people. About 69 percent of them are poor, the school enrollment rate stands at 47 percent and annual per capita income was $403 in 2010, according to the World Bank. The country has faced chronic drought over the years, fueled in part by the government’s restrictive economic policies, according to the Central Intelligence Agency’s World Factbook".

"Human Rights groups, which often lack access to the country, have called Eritrea an oppressive state where the rights of civilians are frequently violated. Human Rights Watch, which once described Eritrea as ‘‘a giant prison,’’ reports that ‘‘torture, arbitrary detention, and severe restrictions on freedom of expression, association, and religious freedom remain routine’’ in the country. The group says in its global report for 2013 that ‘‘political parties are not allowed’’and that ‘‘Eritreans are routinely subject to imprisonment without explanation, trial, or any form of due process. Incarceration often lasts indefinitely’’.

Maybe not the greatest place to visit as a tourist, but beggers can’t be choosers.  But like I said, it could have been worse.  It could have been Somalia.

Broken welcome sign

There was a fire truck waiting to greet us, however that thing would have had trouble putting out a cigarette by the look of it.  We didn’t need it anyway (there was no smoking on board).  However, we did not have the authorization to land, and certainly not to disembark, so for 3 long hours we sat on a stuffy plane waiting until they cleared us for entry.  We all piled off and were escorted onto a couple of buses that drove us 30 metres to the door of the “International” airport.  We were greeted by some shifty types, some serious types, and some secret service-looking types.  After a few announcements by the captain, it became clear that we were going nowhere in a hurry.  All 218 people settled into the airport waiting area for what turned out to be a very long day.  We couldn’t leave the airport for security reasons, but the airport had absolutely no food or water.  Luckily they brought a few bottles off the plane so at least we could drink.

Refugees

An examination of the engine indicated serious and unfixable issues, so consequently it was deemed necessary to fly another plane all the way from Israel to pick us up.  That took all day.  I repeat, all fucking day.  There was talk of transferring us to a hotel - but with immigration and then security risks and checks, it just wasn't going to happen.  So we instead spent 15 hours in an airport with barely any food and minimal drinks.  They managed to bring something in for people to eat about 8 hours after we arrived - but canned tuna mixed with tomato paste on stale thick white bread, is a culinary challenge  I'm just not ready to take on.  I ate some stale, tasteless cake that was rustled up instead.  This was the one and only occasion I wasn’t laden down with extra snacks for the girls.  What a fuck-up.  They are lucky they are so cute, and as they were two of only three children on the plane,  they were showered with candy and chocolates from all the other passengers.  They were absolutely the darlings of the entire plane, and everyone was sweet to them, and for that I am so so grateful.  At one stage Cordi turned to me with her mouth full of a mini Mars bar and said "Mum, this is better than Christmas".

Choccy high

There was one person who wasn’t the darling of the plane and that was a senile old lady who had been put on a flight from New Zealand to Israel to visit her son.  There was a non-English speaking Thai porter who helped her transfer at Bangkok, but after that she was totally on her own.  When she was asked her reasons for visiting Israel by officials, she responded "Israel?  ISRAEL??? I'm not going to Israel".  She kept wandering around the plane, and when we had the emergency landing she had absolutely no idea what was going on or where she was.  The hostesses lumped her care for the entire day onto an Australian nurse who was sitting behind me, and gave her 2 valliums to drug the old lady with.

All happy until somebody squished a large scorpian nearby

Sing-a-long

It really was a long, long,  day.  But Israelis being Israelis made the best of it.  There was lots of happy chatting, good humored pooling of resources, sharing, and laughing.  There was also a few sing-a-longs – most notably when some famous dude got his guitar out and led 100 people in a chorus of classics.  I accidently got involved when I took Valli to the toilet and was spotted by an airhostess and dragged to the front of the circle where it was loudly announced (in Hebew) “:This woman and her family are emigrating to Israel TODAY!!!!”.  This kind of announcement, when told to any Australian friends was met with the response “What the fuck do you want to do that for?????”.  However, amongst Israelis it was met with loud cheers, joy, and congratulations.  Then the guitarist broke into a song of welcome and sung it to my face, then everyone joined in and tried to force me to dance to it by gripping my hands and shaking me.  It was pretty nerdy.  Almost nerdy as the fact that I was wearing sandals over socks.  It was my plane look for the toilet - I wasn't expecting to publicly spend 15 hours embracing this fashion faux pas, and it was cold too, so I wasn't taking them off.

Just don't think this one's going to be the next big thing

And finally, FINALLY, the new plane arrived as it was getting dark,  and the cheers rang out.  But then it took another 3 hours to unload the old one, load the new one and sort shit out.  Eritrean airport doesn’t exactly have the latest equipment, a team of donkeys appeared to be pulling some of the cargo.  Ok, maybe not, but the donkeys would have been quicker than the sorry excuse for a luggage cart they produced

The forbidden zone

And we were on.  Strapped in and ready to go.  The girls passed out immediately.  The safety video was played and the plane began to fire up......and then........

No idea it's going to take 15 hours - Valli is suss though

Suddenly the air pressure started building and building, and everyone was clutching their ears and moaning.  The pain woke Cordi up, who went into an absolute melt-down of pain and terror.  She had a little bit of a cold, so that never helps.  But she was so frightened that she covered her mouth and wouldn't drink or chew a candy or swallow, but was spasming in agony.  The poor little thing, it broke my heart.  I couldn't do anything to help her.  At last they turned it off, but of course it thwarted our leaving plans.  The captain made an announcement that something was wrong with the air pressure (oh, really???) and we couldn't take off after all. Well after that everybody went nuts.  People were yelling and screaming at each other, and going all round mental.  Then everyone was out of their seats and fighting, while some were surging up the back of the plane and begging, just begging, for a tiny scrap of food. It wasn't good.  But we waited it out - for yet another 2 hours.  And finally, god dam fucking christ all mighty finally, the plane took off.  My ears did not feel good the entire flight, but all I cared about was that Valli and Cord were asleep.  I was so hungry there was no way I could nap.  The food came out and it was good.  If, like most people, you find it hard to enjoy the fine fare offered on a plane, just starve yourself for 15 hours beforehand, and I promise you it will then taste like crème brûlée.

At least I just had my own children to look after.  I felt really sorry for the woman who had to care for the crazy lady.  She admitted to me that she if someone had told her the day before that she would end up in a country she's never heard of, grinding up drugs in the airport bathroom in order to slip a mickey to a demented woman, disguising them inside a stale piece of cake, she never would have imagined it. Apparently there was no effect on the woman after both valliums (a double dose) - the old duck must be immune.  Wish she'd handed them over to me - I couldn't relax properly until the plane was completely stationary at Tel Aviv airport which took 3 more hours of flying.  And let me just say, that once we got off and carried the sleeping girls, plus our luggage, plus having to make a pit stop in an airport office at 1am to fill out emigration paperwork, and then drove into Tel Aviv, we were beyond finished.  I got to bed well after 2am.  Our flight was 17 hours late, and can you believe that Chalky's beautiful sister Hannah and his brother in law Alex (who are both busy doctors) were waiting for us when we arrived?  Such an incredible thing - I will never forget it.

Our adventure made tonight's news - as did a lot of footage from the days events taken on cell phones.   There's talk of compensation - and let's hope it's better than the chocolate and the movie tickets they palmed off on us as a pathetic "sorry" when we disembarked.  Unamused.   The chocs weren't bad though.

Thanks for not letting me and die and everything - but where's our real compo bitches?

 So now, we are here, our first day in Tel Aviv settling into life in our new country.  Let's hope it goes a lot smoother than the journey here.

*For anyone who wants a look on at one of the english articles online:

http://www.timesofisrael.com/el-al-plane-makes-emergency-landing-in-eritrea/