Traveling to Turkey Then on To Tel Aviv

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Sharon wasn’t happy when my cell phone alarm woke us at 5 am instead of the 6 am she’d planned, as it does every Monday morning for my MWF racquetball, it’s just today I’m not playing racquetball. We actually have quite a bit left to do before our planned departure at 8:30 AM. Bags to load into the car, items in the fridge likely to spoil while we’re away to discard, garbage to port to the curb for Tuesday morning pickup left in garbage bags since nobody will be around to secure the dump cans after pickup, lunches to make from our leftover Der Dutchman Amish turkey. It looks to be a fine day to drive to Chicago, to start our 24-hour + journey to the Holy Land. We have a 10:30 AM mass at St. Margaret of York, a box lunch, and the journey begins. A wrong turn by me and already my GPS is in a tizzy. It’s winding me down turns on a street that I’ve not visited in 4 years I’ve lived here until we’re on the more rural parts towards Lebanon. It turns out to be a much better route than the one we took to the dinner a few weeks ago, and find ourselves in the parking lot in just thirty minutes and with an hour to spare. We park in the row along the road and consider looking for a McDonalds; but, only briefly. That’s when it started raining. Then it started raining harder and I remembered that my umbrella is in the car which I decided not to take this morning. Finally, we decided it was time to go in for the mass, leaving our luggage in the car until afterwards as instructed in the email we received. We received our hymn books for the next two weeks, and the mass was presided over by a priest and archbishop who are also doing the pilgrimage with us. When our choral director/liturgist broke out in hymn with her guitar, it was reminiscent of the Singing Nun. Afterwards, we received our box lunches prepared by Dorothy Lane Markets (an upscale 3-store chain that resembles Whole Foods quite closely). For me, the best part is that they include their “Killer Brownies” with caramel filling and nuts. The nuts are important because Sharon won’t eat brownies with nuts so guess who gets two “Killer Brownies”.

We boarded the first bus, and were told as soon as 35 of us had piled on it would depart for Chicago (which it did). Sharon had brought three pounds of Buckeyes that we had made to share with fellow travelers. They were split up among the two busses, and a couple hours later when they were passed around I think that everyone that wanted one was able to taste how good they were. People had a choice of milk or dark chocolate. The trip went quite smoothly, and quickly, and it was raining most of the way. We were told that the airline seating had been done as a group, and that there was one couple who had received seating on opposite sides of the plane, and that oversight could be corrected by the group once we were onboard. Someone piped in that maybe that wasn’t an oversight. When we did get to O’hare, the other bus was already there departing, which of course meant that they were ahead of us in the check-in line. Once they got more than just one attendant taking bags, things went quickly; although, the conveyor belt wasn’t running the bags were just backing up. They had given each of us an envelope on the bus containing $25 in cash for eating at the airport, which proved more than enough in a somewhat limited choice food court.

At check-in, the agent noted that we were the lucky ones who weren’t sitting together, and offered to “see what he could do to get us together”. Sharon declined, recalling that we’d been told that we would take care of this on the plane. I thought, “Okay, we’ll see how this works out.” We passed uneventfully through security, and found a burger place for Sharon, with fries, which Sharon enjoyed with her Sprite. I opted for the Mediterranean fare with steak, rice, cucumber yogurt, and pita and mint lemonade. The mint lemonade was a slushy made with homemade lemonade and fresh mint, and once you got past the somewhat unappetizing green color, it was quite refreshing. We took the time in the food court to recharge our phones and battery packs. Our devices were nearly fully charged again when it was time to board, Sharon on the right side of the plane, and me one row behind her aisle seat and me on the other side by the window. I chatted with the guy next to me and thought that if he was travelling alone, it would be no big deal for him to switch with Sharon. I then realized that his wife was sitting on the other side of the aisle from him, and offered her my seat next to her husband, which she declined. I told him that I was trying to get closer to my wife and pointed her out to him. Then he noted that they hadn’t seated us together, and commented “That sucks.” Needless to say, we didn’t get any help to get any closer together, much less next to each other, and that’s the way we took off, and the way we landed some eleven hours later. We did sit together on the final leg of our journey, and everyone seemed to be sitting in the same seats as the first leg; except, on this plane there was a fourth seat in the middle section allowing me to sit next to Sharon.

We found out that Turkish Airline has been voted the best European Airline for the past two years, for all of the standard metrics: service, on-time percentage, food, onboard amenities, etc. I will give two thumbs up for the food that I had, with a special note of excellence for both the chocolate cake we had on the flight to Istanbul and the Vanilla Custard on the second leg to Tel Aviv. I tried the beef on the first flight, and it might be the exception to my uncle’s rule of thumb for airline food (“Never get the beef!”) The alternative was rigatoni and eggplant. The chicken on the second leg was grilled nicely; although, Sharon didn’t appreciate the Parmesan sprinkled on top. In fact, for Sharon, except for the desserts and the rolls, the airline food was a complete bust.

We arrived uneventfully in Tel Aviv, quickly cleared passport control, and everyone was reunited with their luggage. In fact, by the time we meandered all through the concourse to baggage claim, our luggage had already been removed from the conveyor by porters spotting our St. Georges luggage tags. This did confuse some into thinking that their luggage had been lost. But this was sorted out, and we boarded our green group bus. Only the guitar that they refused on the plane that had been used by our very own singing nun requiring it to be gate-checked didn’t arrive, and had been sent on to baggage claim in Istanbul. There just no time to get it, clear security and make the connection to Tel Aviv. We arrived at the Ramada where we enjoyed a ninth floor room directly overlooking the Mediterranean. Our check-in went very smoothly and our bags were quickly ported to our rooms while we dined at the restaurant downstairs that had stayed open to serve us at 10 PM. Sharon’s sister Erin and her husband Dennis met us in the lobby just before we went into the restaurant. It made it all seem real, seeing them there that we were really on a Pilgrimage to the Holy Land… and we really are in Israel! Sharon found some roasted potatoes and chicken to her liking, choosing to skip the ample Mediterranean salad spread of olives, hummus and marinated veggies. The hummus and tabouli (sp?) were the best I’ve ever had. But it’s a bit hard to recall too many details about dinner, because we were both anticipating that bed after our thirty-plus hour ordeal to reach the Holy Land. Our room had a fantastic view of the sea, with a large balcony with outdoor seating, and was laid out much like a suite with both an on-suite and a powder room and a comfortable king sized bed with large fluffy down pillows. It would not be a bad thing to stay here a few nights, but we must move on in the morning. And our group has a 6 AM group wake up call to get us started; bags ready by 7 AM, and breakfast finished by 8 AM.

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