The Final Taxi Ride

There is a joke that goes: How do you get to Mitzpe Ramon?
Drive to the end of the world and turn right...and that is just how you do get to Mitzpe Ramon.

This joke has probably been told about every place that is remote and seems unattractive. Mitzpe Ramon is certainly remote, and since most Israelis experience it through their military training, it probably feels unattractive to them. In any case, it does seem like you are driving forever to get there. It is over two hours from Ben Gurion airport, a long drive in Israel for most people, and the desert just magnifies the distance and isolation.

Our taxi soon gets onto Israel's only toll road, Highway 6, heading south. It passes one of my favorite sights, the giant concrete factory that is visible from miles away. The mass of tubes, chimneys and conveyors gives it an other-worldly appearance.

The concrete factory on Highway 6, south of the airport

It is winter in Israel, the time of the rainy season, and the vineyards and orchards are beginning to bloom.

Signs guide us off Highway 6 and onto Route 40, the only road to Mitzpe Ramon. We are familiar with this route, having driven it in the summer when we were last here helping our daughter move from Be'er Sheva to Mitzpe Ramon and doing our own apartment hunting.

We pass a peloton of bikers on an overpass, and later this lone biker on the road. This is more bikers than we have ever seen on Israeli roads so perhaps biking is on the increase. I am a big biking fan so I hope so. I have numerous friends in Englewood who are serious bikers and love to bike in the Mitzpe Ramon area.

Nabatean ruins are visible along the highway where the Spice Road used to run 20 centuries ago between Baghdad and Jaffa.

We pass by a new forest on the outskirts of Be'er Sheva, Israeli's fourth largest city and an hour from the airport. We still have over an hour of driving ahead of us to get to Mitzpe Ramon.

High cirrus clouds are the predominant cloud cover this time of year in the desert.

As we drive I become aware of a metronomic ticking that has accompanied us the whole way. It is so regular you could play a Mozart sonata to it. After a few minutes I realize it is Spot, panting in his kennel in the back of the car. He usually gets excited when in the car and begins panting, but I have never heard him like this.

As the maximum security Ramon Prison heaves into view, we realize we have only five more miles to our destination.

Just outside of Mitzpe, one of my favorite sights, the Wise Astronomical Observatory with new IDF trainig facilities on the plain below. I hope the base doesn't add too much light pollution to the pristine skies here.

After 2+ hours on the road, we finally reach the end of the world and turn right. Our apartment building greets us, but the moving boxes are packed so high and deep inside that as of this date, over a week later, we still haven't been able to move in.

We see our grandson, YaYa, after a five month absence.

And we move in next door with Chavie and Donny while the unpacking is done. Spot, exhausted but no worse for the wear, immediately falls asleep and will not be heard from for almost two days.

All's Well that Ends Well

And They Walked Through on Dry Land in the Midst of the Sea Until They Came Out the Other Side

We are deplaning. We have been told someone will meet us at the gate and guide us through the Aliyah process at the airport where we will receive our immigration certificate, other documents necessary to register for a state ID card, medical care, open a bank account, and receive our immigrant financial benefits. I am skeptical this will happen, so I am taken aback when we are greeted by a fellow with a sign reading "New Olim Machefsky" as soon as we step off the jetway.

As it turns out, he is Shmuel A., the cousin of our friend Malkie A. who sold us our house in Englewood 9 years ago. Small world Jewish Geography strikes again. He is a volunteer for Americans and Canadians in Israel where he meets the new olim (immigrants) on morning flights into Ben Gurion airport. His father did this for many years before him and he has taken over the job since his father's passing.

I am worried about Spot now, and ask Shmuel if we can retrieve the dog before we proceed with our paperwork. He says No, we can't go down to the baggage area until we complete our paperwork, and besides, he assures us from his many years of experience that the dog is being taken care of and is fine. He says about 60 percent of new olim from the United States bring dogs and many get hysterical when told they can't see their dog immediately. Fortunately, I am above this and am mostly worried what I might have to do if Spot has messed in his kennel. But, 'Que Sera Sera', remember?

We are taken down to passport processing where instead of going through the usual line we are expedited through the airline crew windows. While we are waiting for our passports to be processed and stamped Shmuel points out the ATM-like machines on the side of the hall. People who carry Israeli passports can register for biometric processing and not have to wait online when going through passport control. This reminds me that Israel has more high-tech start-ups than all other countries in the world combined, except for the US, many in the area of security.

After our US passports are stamped we are on our way to the Ministry of Absorption to get our initial papers. I am delighted when I find we have a direct line to the Ministry to let them know we are coming. The only thing better than a direct line to an Israeli Ministry is a direct line to G-d!

The only thing better than a direct line to an Israeli Ministry is a direct line to G-d

A short elevator ride and walk later, we are seated  in front of the Absorption Ministry agent who guides us through our paper work. He issues us our Certificate of Immigration, which makes us official Olim Chadashim, New Immigrants, a term that always elicits a "B'ruchim Ha'baim" (Blessed are those who come) when announced to Israelis. As it turns out, he himself immigrated to Israel from France in the early 1990s. He tells us that during the height of the Russian immigration in the '90s and '00s the office processed over 3,000 new immigrants a week. The numbers are now only a fraction of that but the Ministry of Absorption office is always open at the airport 24 hours a day, 6 days a week, closing 1 hour before Shabbat and opening an hour after (Jewish holidays excepted, too, of course). So, you can make Aliyah any time of the day or night, any day of the week you can get to Israel.

We receive our Aliyah Certificate at the Absorption Ministry in Ben Gurion airport

We receive 2500 shekels in cash (about $500), the first of our immigration benefits, which continue throughout the first seven months and then at a reduced rate for the next year. We will also get a free taxi ride to our destination in Mitzpe Ramon, a long two hours from the airport. The agent says that some cab driver will be made very happy today. (My daughter tells us that in the old days they used to just give you a bus token and send you on your way. I'm glad the old days are gone. That would be tough with seven suitcases, one dog with kennel, wife, and many carry-ons.)

The agent and Shmuel accompany us down stairs to the baggage claim. This is the best time to be there. Everyone has long since claimed their bags and left. The only bags circulating are ours, and we quickly claim them and place them on carts. But first our attention turns to Spot whom we see in his kennel at the end of the baggage hall.  I expected to have to seek him out, so I am massively relieved when I see him waiting for us. He is dry and clean and no worse for the wear. We go outside, walk the dog, and wait for the taxi that will take us to Mitzpe Ramon.

On Wings of Eagles

There is a biblical metaphor, the image of an eagle that carries its young on its wings. The eagle flies higher than any other bird, and so cannot be attacked from above. Its pinions and fierce beak and talons protect from attack from below. So G-d carried the children of Israel out of Egypt, on the wings of eagles to protect them from harm. Now we are completing our Exodus on the wings of a modern eagle, a 777 Boeing ElAl jet liner. (May G-d protect us from harm.)

We are sitting at he boarding gate level at Newark, waiting for 12:30 so we can return Spot and his kennel for search and boarding. Pam is taking care of Spot, who is confused, but not panicked.

Spot waits for doggy check-in with Pam

I request a coke which Mark gets from Chili's. Chava decides on a Bloody Mary. We sit nervously and drink.

We drink and wait to board Spot

Suddenly a gate agent appears and asks me to bring Spot. What a surprise, the first time an airline agent has actually sought me out to bring me somewhere on time. Mark and I carry Spot's kennel back up to the ticketing level, where a guard searches the kennel and pats down the bedding, looking for explosives. He assures me that Spot will not be left outside in the cold and rain. I turn and walk away. Spot does not whimper or bark. I walk quickly so I will not hear him, in case he does.

We bid the Finkels good-bye and pass easily through gate security. We walk to the gate. Again there is no line. We walk on, unmolested with all of our carry-ons, find our seats with some difficulty, since seat labeling on airlines continues to baffle me, stow our baggage and wait for take off. The ticket agent has told us that the flight is not full, but all this appears to mean is that not every single seat is sold. There are a scattered handful unbooked.  So, the flight is nearly full but still surprisingly comfortable.

There is little to say about the flight. It was quick and easy. You could almost say we enjoyed "k'vitzat ha'derech", the shortening of the way that our biblical ancestors experienced on auspicious journeys: Jacob when he left Beer Sheva to go to Lavan; Eliezer when he left Abraham to go in search of a bride for Issac; and the Jews when G-d took them out of Egypt.

Our plane touches down at Ben-Gurion airport at 7:10 AM local time on Monday, December 14, 2009, the third day of Chanukah, 5770 years since the Creation of the World. It is an overcast day with intermittent showers. We are Home.

Waiting for the Sea to Split

We arrive at Newark Airport, Sunday morning, December 13, 2009, the second day of Chanukah, 5770 years since the Creation of the World. It is 11:30 AM, one hour later than I had planned to arrive. I am sure we are disastrously late, but I say nothing of it, since I have become a fatalist. As Ava Gardner says in The Barefoot Contessa, The motto of my family is 'Que Sera Sera', whatever will be will be. Or I have finally become a true believer, All that happens is G-d's plan for the best for us, and we must thank Him for the good as well as the bad that befalls us, the bad being only an apparent evil. Now is not the time to cry out and shrei chai v'kayum but to leap forward and hope against all odds that the sea will split and we will pass through on dry land.

I jump out of the car into a cold rain with Spot. As usual, he is panicked by the trip in the car and goes off with me to take a satisfyingly large poop. I am pretty sure that without eating he will not need to go again until after we get to Israel. An earlier giant pish at Rachel's has wrung him out pretty well, so I have done what I can to make his coming 14 hour ordeal as easy as possible.

Despite the fact that we are only two hours from departure, there is no line at the ElAl counter. Usually the line is miles long with people going through rigorous security screening, large families of Chasidim, tourists and Israelis waiting on line for a ticket agent with bags overflowing everywhere. We walk right up to the ticket counter, present our passports and eTickets, weigh our baggage, and are ticketed and given boarding passes. Our strategy of over loading each of six allowed suitcases a little and bringing an extra seventh pays off. The ticket agent gives us a pass on our overweight bags and only charges us for our single extra. She doesn't even glance at our many carry-ons.

Spot will have to return an hour before boarding so a security agent can check out his kennel, after which he will be sent on his way, wherever that is in the bowels of the airport. I see another couple traveling with a dog who tell me they take their dog with them everywhere they travel, no problem not to worry. This sets my mind somewhat at ease.

The Finkels, Pam, Spot and I make our way down to the boarding gate level at Newark awaiting the time we will return to the counter so Spot and his kennel can be searched and boarded. (Damn those terrorists!)

And so, 3300 years after the Exodus from Egypt, 1,937 years after the Roman Second Exile, and 60 years after the modern founding of the State of Israel, we return to the Land of our Fathers and Mothers: Abraham, Issac, Jacob, Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel and Leah.

...us and our Little Dog Spot.

Returning from the Second Exile

The Exodus from Englewood or "Last Train from Poland"

(I continue the tale of our Exodus from America to Israel, picking up the story where I left off. We safely arrived in Israel on December 14 - wife, dog and I - but I have been too busy and too tired settling in to keep the blog updated in real time.)

We suffer from "Last Train from Poland" Syndrome in my family (or at least I do). This is the neurosis that whenever you travel, you have the feeling you are catching the last train from Poland before the Nazis roll in. You don't want to miss this train. This makes travel a tense affair and has been the occasion of much family screaming and travel tensions over the years. This morning, Sunday December 13, I take a Xanax early in the day to help combat the neurosis. We are up not early at all, around 8:30, for last minute packing, good-byes, and loading the vehicle for the trip to the airport.

The original plan was to depart Englewood at 10:00 and arrive at Newark at 10:30 for a 1:30PM flight. This plan is quickly scotched as friends arrive unexpectedly to say their farewells. (What are these people thinking? Nazi Panzer tanks are rolling in to Englewood, and they think I want to stand around and talk to them?! ) However, I grimace and bear it while Pam graciously accepts our friends farewells. In the mean time, the Finkels arrive with their Suburban and take charge of the luggage. Seven huge suitcases, a doggy travel kennel, and numerous carry-ons are hastily loaded into the Suburban while I madly throw any final items into nooks and crannies of the suitcases. It is now 10:40AM, ten minutes past the original planned time to arrive at Newark.

Pam, Liz, Fred, Me, Rebecca, Rachel

One last photo in our gracious host's driveway before the Panzer tanks arrive

We roll out of Englewood around 10:45AM as a cold rain begins to descend. It is a yucky day, but I don't care anymore. Three months of delays are over, we are packed and in the car with Pam, Spot and our friends the Finkels. I don't have to drive, and I am sure all will turn out fine.

Heading out of Englewood on I95 toward Newark Airport, A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

Let's watch and listen in to this Exodus, 3300 years after the original.

Spot the Dog Prepares for Aliyah

Today Spot the Dog went for his health certificate to make Aliyah to Israel. This, too, is a bureaucratically entangled matter. Not only does the vet need to be a USDA accredited veterinarian, but the health certificate needs to be further endorsed by the USDA state veterinarian. Spotty also needs to have a rabies vaccine at least 30 days before travel. Spot the Dog had his vaccine in early September, so no problems there. But the health certificate must be issued within 7 days of travel, so we only have seven days to get it endorsed by the USDA state vet. Well, the USDA vet didn't return our call today, so that only leaves 4 days to get his signature in Trenton, NJ before Friday. I sure hope we don't have to drive there to get it done.

Questions about papers for the trip to Israel in the Nefesh b'Nefesh forum reveal an interesting matter. Even according to long-time ElAl personnel, no dog has ever had its papers checked upon arriving in Israel. Nevertheless, we shall play it safe and make sure all of Spot's papers are in order.

Fortunately, our vet, Dr. Groskin at the Englewood Animal Hospital, is USDA certified, so we didn't have to seek out a new one. Spot the Dog is shown below being checked out for Aliyah by Dr. Groskin. I can't speak for Spotty, but we will miss Dr. Groskin and the staff at the Englewood Animal Hospital. They have taken care of Spotty for almost 10 years in illness and in health. Fortunately, he is in health for his trip to Israel. Bye bye Dr. Groskin. We will miss you.

 

Spot the Dog gets the once over from Dr. Groskin

Aliyah Flight Reservations Secured - December 13, 2009; 2nd Day of Chanukah, 5770

  DATE  30NOVEMBER09
  AGENT  NP/NP BOOKING REF 5HEOBP

  ALIYAH INDIVIDUALS
  42 EAST 69TH ST                          MACHEFSKY/ IRA
  NEW YORK NY 10021                  MACHEFSKY/PAMELA


EL AL ISRAEL AIRLINES 13DEC NEW NJ         TEL AVIV YAFO  130P    655A
LY 28                SUNDAY NEWARK LIBERTY BEN GURION IN          14DEC
B ECONOMY                   AIRCRAFT:      BOEING 777-200/200ER
                            SEATS 50D/50F CONFIRMED
                            RESERVATION CONFIRMED

We Get our Aliyah Visas

"And so a torturous, round-about refugee trail sprang up. Paris to Marseilles, across the Mediterranean to Oran [in Algeria], then by train or auto or foot across the rim of Africa to Casablanca in French Morocco. Here the fortunate ones through money or influence or luck might obtain exit visas and scurry to Lisbon, and from Lisbon to the New World. But the others wait in Casablanca, and wait and wait and wait." -- Casablanca, The Movie

It seems like this is what we have been doing for months - wait...and wait...and wait. There is no rushing a government bureaucracy.  I always said it was a good thing I was never a refugee, or I would be dead. Waiting in lines, dealing with bureaucrats, dealing with documents -- these things are not my strong suit. I was encouraged when I heard about Nefesh b'Nefesh and how they took the pain out of dealing with the bureaucracy, but while they make navigating the government hurdles easier, they don't remove any of them. You still have to come up with all of the ridiculous (to me, at any rate) papers that the Israeli Ministry of the Interior insists upon.

If you are young (as many making Aliyah are), there are not so many documents to deal with. If you are older or have a more complicated life, things get more difficult. Most people in their 20s will need a birth certificate and passport. That's it. If you're married, throw in a marriage license. Interestingly, the Ministry of the Interior cares only about civil documents. They don't want any religious documents, such as a Ketubah, but if you are a convert, they want your conversion papers. Divorced, you need the divorce papers, and preferably the corresponding marriage license to go along with it. Proof of Judaism papers in the form of a letter from your Rabbi on official synagogue stationary and your orthodox conversion papers if you are a convert, together with a discription of your course of studies to convert and a letter from your current Rabbi saying that you are still on the derech. All papers must be original or certified copies. What's that you say? You only have copies? Go back to square one until you get all the originals.

One lovely document you will need for almost all of your official civil documents, is an apostille. What's that you say? You've never heard of an apostille? An apostille is the equivalent of an international notary public seal, certifying that the original, certified copy you have is indeed, an original certified copy. It is something one state entity uses to certify a document to another state entity. Why doesn't an apostille need an apostille? Beats me. You'll have to ask the bureaucrats who thought this up, but apparently the possibility of an infinite regression of apostilles proved daunting even to the mind of doughty bureaucrats.

Now the thing that's really silly about an apostille, as if an infinite regression of them isn't silly enough, is that it is much easier to forge than the original document that it vouches for. The only security markings on an apostille are a trivial gold seal, like something out of kindergarten, and watermarked paper. Believe me, if you managed to forge the document the apostille vouches for, you will have no problem forging an apostille. No doubt this does not trouble the mind of the bureaucrat, but it bothers me alot. In fact, I've lost sleep over it, but I suppose it is really not my problem.

An apostille from the State of New York certifying a divorce certificate

To make things really interesting in our case, The Powers That Be were troubled by the fact that the first name on my birth certificate is not the first name I have on the rest of my public documents, such as passport, drivers license, marriage license, etc. I guess my parents just decided they didn't like the name they gave to the nurse to put on my birth certificate and assigned me a different name at my bris. To further complicate matters, when that name was entered onto my official birth certificate, the clerk made two typos, rendering it a word that is not even a name in the English language.

Despite my assurances to the Israeli government that there were only two Machefskys ever born in the State of Tennessee, and I was one of them, they originally insisted I must have my name changed on my birth certificate. This entailed a trip back to Memphis to appear in court with my lawyer to attempt to do so. Here I was summarily ejected from court because Tennessee law requires you to be a resident of the state to change your name. Shoots and Ladders - back to square one.

So, the Israeli government takes pity on me and decides that I only need change my name; that will do, and that I can do in New Jersey, where you need not even be a resident to change your name. Sounds easy, but nothing involving the court system is. Secure another lawyer, in this case a friend who volunteered to help out, submit new court papers, advertise said name change in the local papers (a New Jersey requirement), get on the judges schedule sooner than 3 months by begging and pleading with his clerk, and voila, after 6 weeks, you have become the person you originally were anyway - "Ira Machefsky".

So all of this nahrishkeit takes about 3 months more than we expected, and my wife is really fuming and pissed off. However, it must have been worth all the effort. The letters of transit are finally in our hands:

To all officers. Two German couriers carrying important official documents murdered on train from Oran. Murderer and possible accomplices headed for Casablanca. Round up all suspicious characters and search them for stolen document. IMPORTANT. --Casablanca, The Movie

Ugarti has been shot. Monsieur Rick has signed the Letters of Transit over to us. Soon, we will be on the plane out of Casablanca headed to a new world.

Pam with the precious Letters of Transit