So I got up this morning (yesterday morning?) at 3:45 a.m. to make it to an 8:30 flight. That's right, folks. I had to get up nearly five hours early to make it to my flight. And I may or may not have been awake until 12:45 the night before, partly from stress, partly from nerves, partly from packing, and partly from texting some friends for what felt like the last time.
My wonderful father drove me an hour to the airport at 4:45 a.m. on a cold winter morning (on his first day of work this semester, no less!) and gave me some advice on the way there. I may be 21, but there are some things I'll never outgrow, including talks and advice sessions with my parents. I got to the airport and met my group (73 of us!) at 6:00 a.m., weighed my baggage (2 pounds over!), took out my shampoo and tried again, then checked my bags, tried not to cry as I hugged my dad goodbye, went through security (a surprisingly long line for 6:30 in the morning), and so it began. The whole group walked down to our gate, set up camp, and started getting to know each other. The excitement was tangible at this point; everything was new, every person an unexplored new relationship, it was great. That buzz started to fade at the next airport, midway into our five hour layover after a four hour flight. At about hour three it started to feel like Tom Hanks' character in The Terminal. At that point we spread out (even more) in one of the corners of the gates and started playing Catchphrase (way to be inconspicuous travelers, BYU students).
I won't bore you with the details of a 12 hour flight, but in the process I got the impression that we were never going to get to our destination, that traveling was real life, that they'd just taken us all away to put us in eternal air-travel limbo. I started to feel (though not believe - dont' worry, I'm not going crazy) that this was just some big joke they'd pulled on us; it couldn't possibly be true that we'd end up in Jerusalem. That end result didn't feel real, especially when we arrived in Tel Aviv and met our professors only to be put on yet another transport (a bus this time) to take us to the center.
After an hour we saw the gates to the BYU Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies, and what a wonderful sight it was. They had treats waiting for us at the center, took care of all our bags for us, ushered us, smelly and greasy and travel-weary, into the auditorium, the most gorgeous room in the entire center for our greeting and orientation. Our opening hymn was "Israel, Israel God is Calling," and Richard Elliot, the Organist for the Tabernacle Choir, happened to be visiting and played the amazing and beautiful organ (again, look at that blog post for pictures of the organ. It's one of a kind). I couldn't stop smiling while we sang that song IN ISRAEL. Later, in the middle of the assistant director's remarks, the curtains over the windows of the front of the auditorium automatically opened, and there was a chorus of "oohs" as the Dome of the Rock and the old city came into view with a beautiful sunset behind. I just about cried when I saw that. I'd been traveling for an entire day, I was exhausted, but there, in front of me, was the reason I'd come. It finally felt like I had arrived.
The rest of the day - orientation walks, dinner, more orientation, pictures for our center ID cards (gross, right?) - passed in a blur, and here I am, ready to crash into bed (May jet lag leave me quickly!) for the first time in, two days. But it was worth it. I'll see just how worth it in just a few days.
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