It was difficult to leave Israel with a
good taste in my mouth.
 |
| Tel Aviv traffic at night |
Trains and buses were sleeping due to a
holiday, and the hostel told us it was a flat fare for a taxi to the
airport. I found an extremely likeable professional dancer from
Holland to share the cab with, and away we went. Halfway there the
driver asked which terminal we needed. Dancer Man was on a budget
carrier, Terminal 1, and I was on Royal Jordanian, Terminal 3.
“The price you paid only covers one
terminal. Another 40 shekels to go to the other.” That's just over
$10.
Then I was scanned, swabbed, and under
suspicion before I even entered the terminal.
“Why did you go to Morocco?” (Three
years ago.)
“Um...because it's pretty?”
“Why twice?”
“I took my girlfriend the second
time.”
“What's her name?”
“Do you want her measurements too?”
(No, I didn't say that. I am not writing this in an Israeli prison.)
 |
| Obviously there is a lot of love in this country, I tried to focus on images like this... |
Then I stood in front of the bag
inspection corral, where 3 of the 13 to 16 staff were actually
working, slowly, and waited for my turn to have my underwear spread
across the desk and rubbed with a magic wand. I knew I needed to do
laundry, but this was just embarrassing.
I sat there planning my packing list
for next time. 1 leather T-shirt/harness, 3 blow-up dolls, 5
vibrators, 7 riding crops...would that be a mitzvah?
I had two flights to reach Sri Lanka,
changing planes in Amman, Jordan. That was a big hit. I had to try
and explain why I was stopping there...on Royal Jordanian
Airlines.
Finally I was handed a boarding pass.
“You'll have to go to the transfer desk in Amman to get the other
two.”
“Two?”
“Yes, for the flight from Dubai as
well.”
“Dubai?”
Given the assortment of words that were
floating around my head, the theory was the less words I actually
used, the less likely I was to get in trouble.
My second flight had been canceled, so
for the second time in the last three years I was flying to Dubai to
be passed off to Emirates Airlines. This is not a problem, because
Emirates is fantastic, and the airport is a trip in itself.
 |
| Hard to tell (I was running to my gate) but that black wall is a waterfall... |
I've been to some oversized and
ostentatious airports (see: Ben Gurion in Tel Aviv) but nothing
matches Dubai International for sheer sci-fi spectacle. You walk for
miles through a canyon of subtle commercials and stylish
ornamentation, ascend and descend escalators alongside 3-storey
waterfalls, and pass hi-tech displays that are ready for Tom Cruise
in futuristic white haute couture to chase an alien villain past at
any minute.
Take a train, because, hey, why not?
Eventually you reach Terminal A to find yourself inside the massive
arching ribs of an international transportation behemoth, but luckily
it swallowed some nice bathrooms too. I brushed my teeth and took a
seat behind Jimmy Buffet's younger brother, who was telling a lengthy
story about calling his credit card company to two women who were
both immersed in their phones.
Dripping down through it all was the
awareness that last time I walked those corridors I was with K, our
backpacks stuffed with toothbrushes for kids in South Africa. Her
absence this time made every bench into a memorial as I wondered “Is
that the one where we fell asleep on each other's shoulder?
I wonder if the guy whose giant hairy
arms flopped into my side of the armrest noticed my refusal to look
up.
 |
| Good thing I put the camera away before I started falling asleep. Not a great idea in a tuk tuk... |
A sleepless interlude in the surreal
world of air transport, Gangster Squad showing on my tiny screen, and
then I was in Colombo. I navigated the customarily poorly-marked
process of visa and immigration, then through the waiting taxi
drivers to reach the local bus across the street.
I got on, heard Sri Lankan music,
talked to four women in brilliant-colored saris who giggled at me,
and saw the scurry of 3-wheel tuk-tuks that dominate this hemisphere.
I was exhausted, hungry, and completely in love with travel.
Bring on Sri Lanka!
No comments:
Post a Comment