Back to reality

It was inevitable. My trip to Senegal and reunion with Kate has ended. Before the trip, I left Israel and now, according to the newspapers, I've returned to a war zone. But you wouldn't know it if you were cut off from the media. Security is as routine as it always was at the university, many people were out shopping to prepare for the weekend and I didn't detect any sort of police or military presence apart from the norm. Jerusalem is a long distance from Gaza (i.e., out of home-made rocket range) and nobody should worry about me in that respect.

My return from Dakar to Tel Aviv was unpleasant for the most part. To highlight just of the few of the many inconvenient elements I encountered yesterday was a one hour line-up at the Dakar airport just to check-in - an airport that allows smoking but doesn't allow non-travelers inside (including Kate) is more delapidated than most bus stations. I had an 8 hour layover in Madrid - this time without access to the Business Class lounge :( and instead utter boredom and discomfort. I arrived at about 5 am on New Year's Day. All of the shops and shitty eateries were closed for my first 5 hours in the terminal (see photo). I couldn't even peruse the booze and read magazines for free as I usually do. Instead I was relegated to fake sleeping across a couple of imobile hard plastic seats with an armrest under my neck and another under my knees. At this point I was too tired to read and too hungry to walk aimlessly.


My anguish was finally broken when El Al's security desk opened. Strange as this may sound, I was excited to be asked the same weird questions about having any family in Israel, my "community involvement" in Toronto, and now a new one about the Sephardic/Ashkenazi demographic in Toronto. As incincere as this 10 minutes conversation was, I think I was just happy to talk to someone, especially someone who was hanging on my every word. Me: "I think that it is mostly Ashkenazi." Her: "Really. Are you sure?" Me: "Yes".

Even stranger than this, I was led into the bowels of the airport to the baggage handling facilities. I suppose that since El Al doesn't trust Senegalese security, they wanted me to personally identify my luggage from a small field of suitcases so that they could inspect mine in particular. Again, this is not an inherently "fun" thing to do, but I somehow felt that my life had purpose again.

On a more positive note, I had a great time in Senegal with Kate. Though the place of our reunion was not as important as seeing my wife again, Senegal provided a fascinating backdrop for us. It was a part of the world I likely won't see again and I have Kate to thank for being a great tour guide. Kate - you really know you're way around Dakar. Mala rao.