Shalom

I can’t say that I didn’t have some anxiety in my anticipation of our Israeli trip but I’ve traveled enough to know that it was most likely unwarranted. The people I’ve spoken to that have actually been to Tel Aviv always rave about how wonderful it is, despite what CNN makes you think. Mostly I was incredibly excited for a new and different adventure and the city didn’t disappoint.

We started off in security in Vienna with a hard-nosed Israeli woman asking us thorough questions with a no bullshit attitude. It was the usual questions about luggage and so forth but then she started asking about Syrians, Iranians, or basically anyone from the Middle East. The questions were so intense I felt like I was hiding something from her when I didn’t confess that three years ago my sky diving instructor was in fact Iranian. Luckily, security never found out that my coach had coached the Syrian National Basketball team. We would have been forced to leave him in Central Europe for sure. Time for my player/coach debut.

From that moment on, I noticed Israeli women with a toughness lacking in most women. Something pretty cool about a country where women join the military not as an anomaly or to hold up certain ideologies, but as a perfectly normal occurrence. I suppose that is what happens when a country has been defending itself virtually its entire history.

As we waited for our flight, I saw a group of young Australian Jewish boys praying and started asking them questions. They were studying the Torah outside Jerusalem on their break from university. Not every day you see 20-year-old guys with enough faith to wear a yamika (I obviously forget to ask them how to spell it), religious tassels hanging from their clothes as they stood up praying in the middle of Terminal 1. Typically not the most spiritually deep demographic.

I was very much looking forward to witnessing a very controversial, misunderstood, and volatile part of the world. Getting on the flight I grabbed the Jerusalem paper and devoured every bit of writing, fascinated by the different perspective. As expected, the news contained what was relevant to their world and just served to remind me how isolated we all really are with what information we get. Even in this global world we really do look at everything through the prism of our own experiences. The articles varied of course, from human interest stories to news about Gaza but most were fairly politically charged. I read about an Israeli woman who is afraid to put her children in seat belts when she is driving for fear she wouldn’t have time to get them out when the bomb sirens wail. Its things like this that obviously make Israelis mad, when the rest of the world cries out for the poor Palestinians, the Israelis maintain they have a right to protect themselves from Hamas. And with the recent blockade, seems like they finally pushed the issue for other countries in the area to open their borders especially since they say Israelis and Jews are completely void of the Gaza strip, only monitoring the borders. Of course, then I pick up an International Herald tribune and read an editorial about a Palestinian who had no food or electricity and is tired of being punished for the few extremists in their area. What a complicated issue.

Traveling makes the political issues come to life though. When I read about the PKK or secularism in Turkey, I know what that means. I've been around the people living those issues, drank tea with them as we talked about head scarves or watched the news on Kurdish rebels. When Greece caught on fire, it wasn't a paragraph I skimmed in the paper or a headline I heard on NPR; I was huddled around Greek television at my Greek friend's home, watching the country I called home for two years go up in flames. When I watch EuroNews and see Greeks protesting in the street, I know the avenue, but also know that it they might be disgruntled workers or just upset that their soccer team lost.

Thinking about all this, I turned to the Israeli man next to me and asked him about Gaza, curious what his perspective was. He turned the tables on me and I responded with a seemingly evasive answer about how I’m not sure I have enough information but that I can see both sides of the issue. Not sure he liked the sound of that and didn’t seem too keen on enlightening me. But the Jew from Belgium behind me spoke up immediately, telling me of his three years in the Israeli army, yet proudly lamenting that there was plenty he couldn’t speak about. Nothing like a comment like that to spark my interest!

I was at the back of the plane, away from most of my teammates, and surrounded by Jewish men from all over the world. The talk soon moved from Middle Eastern politics, Jewish text, and Elie Weisel to women as we started toasting vodka in Hebrew. Soon they all agreed to come to our game and cheer us on. Then dinner came and was quite possibly the best airline food I’ve had, kosher chicken and rice with hummus and pita.

Soon the alcohol was finished so I bought a duty free bottle for my new friends who at 20 years old obviously hadn’t learned how to hold their alcohol. One proceeded to get sick and vomit in the airsickness bag; another became belligerent and wouldn’t sit down when the seat belt sign was illuminated. Another opportunity for me to witness a tough Israeli flight attendant that threatened to have the police waiting for him in Tel Aviv. I felt like the irresponsible big sister who shouldn’t have shared her alcohol. I suppose on some level I was relieved that despite all their religious dedication, they were still 20-year-old boys being boys. The Belgium Jew, now sitting next to me was holding my hand through intense turbulence and enthusiastically offering to show me Tel Aviv. I miss that Mediterranean hospitality. We finally landed safely and he started clapping and shouting out throaty Hebrew blessings.


We landed in Tel Aviv after 2 in the morning, tired and ready to sleep. After a short drive into the city we made it to the hotel. Unfortunately, since the other team apparently has too many managers that don’t communicate, we were taken to the wrong hotel. Our team was sprawled out on the hotel couches, half of the team nearly asleep, the other half taking pictures of them. My team doctor told me that him and I would have to share a bed. The professionalism just oozes of out him. Finally, we got to the correct hotel and sunk into our beds at four in the morning.

The next day began late, but before lunch I took a short walk with Dita and our trainer, Johnny, exploring the quaint streets around our hotel. I fell in love with the city immediately, waving at friendly locals and saying “shalom” to every shop owner and juice stand attendant. The weather was uncharacteristically cold that day, raining monsoon style every 10 minutes and then stopping. But we walked along, admiring the chic coffee shops on every corner and winding our way down residential streets. The architecture was very much like Greece, with large concrete apartments, large patios and gardens around the building, and cats looking like they hadn’t a care in the world. There were palm trees everywhere, swaying in the wind along the stormy beach.

Lunch was amazing. Dita and I could barely get past the salad bar. We walked into a rainbow buffet of fresh vegetables, salads of all kinds, pickled everything you can think of, spices in every shade of fire red. Our teammates, being all of 18 years old went straight for the spaghetti, looking quizzically at the strange salads and sauces quickly leaving my plate.

After lunch we had a team walk that soon turned into every man for himself, running from covered buildings to stay out of the rain. Finally we made it to Jafa, the old town of Tel Aviv where we walked the cobblestone streets and took pictures of the sea next to seasonal cafes and discos. After finding our horoscope sign and making a wish on the wishing bridge, we got to the highest point of Jafa where we had a clear view of the sea, the beach and of Tel Aviv.

Since we still had some time before practice, Dita and I hailed a cab to the center of town. We shared the back seat with an attractive, young Israeli woman who swapped stories of being a nanny in America with Dita and then we broke bread with the cab driver who insisted on sharing his snack with all of us. The flat bread was amazing, sesame and currant paste inside, made all the better because of his enthusiasm in telling us about his life. We exchanged “shaloms” as we exited to the bustle of downtown.

We walked the downtown streets of Tel Aviv, marveling at stylish cafes and pointing out brightly colored fruit stands. After getting slightly lost on streets with names all starting with ‘Ben’ or “Moshe”, we made it back to the hotel with time to rest before practice.

Practice was an hour away so we got a little tour of the outskirts of Tel Aviv before rolling into the town Ramlas. Practice was nothing out of the ordinary except for my teammates gawking when the 6’5” Michelle Snow, a newly acquired player of the other team, walked in. I exchanged greetings with the Americans I knew on the other team, the basketball community being extremely small. People I played against as far back as middle school keep popping up on opposing teams in far away places. This team had Jaclyn Johnson, whom I played against in college when she was at Kansas and Greece, where we played dangerous friendly games against each other every other week. Always nice to see a familiar face. Then I ran into the assistant coach of the other team who said they had heard good things about me and inquired as to what my plans are for next season. Hmmm, Tel Aviv might be a nice option.

The next 24 hours was nothing out of the ordinary. The sun finally broke out and we had more wonderful hummus filled meals, shoot around and pregame meal and nap. I won’t bore you with the details except to say that there was yet another 6’5” player on the court for the other team, one who had literally arrived since practice the night before. Pretty sure we would have noticed her. It didn’t bother me, I know a whole lot of worthless footers, especially ones who come onto teams without having practiced, but it did make me long for a team that invested in success. How many times had I told my team we needed to gear up for the next round with new players like every other team we will face.

The game was a disaster. They rotated three guards in every minute or so to guard me, pressed in the backcourt and denied me in the half court. I had ten assists, far too many turnovers, and too little good looks at the basket. It was frustrating to say the least especially since the player I had pushed my team to buy after Christmas would have made things so much better since she can play the 1,2, or 3 position. My backup is a 17-year-old 5’4” player who tries real hard. Needless to say, I didn’t come out of the game. Come to think of it, I never come out of any game.

We lost by 15 although it was much closer than that for most of the game. I was upset of course but set my sights on beating them at home the next week. We would still advance if we could beat them at home by 16.

After the game I went out to eat with Jackie and her two American teammates. Like most places in Europe, Ramlas has a handful of American players despite the fact they can only play two during FIBA cup matches. Conveniently, three of her teammates are Jewish, or their great grandparents are, and thus have Israeli passports. I’m still hoping we find out our family name is really “Wilsonstein”.

Anyway I got a small taste of Tel Aviv life. Beautiful café/bar/restaurants with couches and young professionals smoking and talking. The food was great, it was nice to be around some native English speakers, and fun to be in a bustling city again.

We were to leave the hotel at 4 am to fly out of Tel Aviv yet my coach wanted me back at the hotel at midnight. By the time we left the gym, it was nearly 10 ‘clock so I wasn’t too happy. I felt like a child and had half a mind to stay out till 3 just to piss them off but in all honesty I was tired. It was more the principle of it.

After two hours of sleep, I rolled into the lobby and onto the bus. I didn’t know why we had to fly red eyes both ways but I later heard its so terrorist can’t aim their rockets at the planes. Sweet. I’m glad I heard that after I flew.

Anyway, I’ve now been to the Middle East and highly recommend it to anyone. Its really an amazing part of the world and despite some obvious downsides, really has a lot to offer. It’s definitely a place I want to return to…..