Middle East, Part 3 - Anatomy of an Israeli Strip Search

Just thinking about writing this blog makes me kind of angry, so I'm listening to happy music and watching the Flames lose to try and make sure this episode doesn't come off as too vindictive or bitter. I know "happy music" is pretty stupid, since most of you know the shit I listen to is pretty lame anyway...but it's either this or kick a foreigner. And there aren't any foreigners here right now (who needs a gardener in the winter?) So...here we go.

Since the airport was about 5 minutes away and the flight didn't leave until close to noon, we decided the night before to sleep in and head up there not long before the flight. The airport was super small, so we figured we didn't have anything to worry about, right? I'll take foreshadowing for 400, Alex. Luckily we both woke up early anyway and headed up there 2 hours early. Because apparently the full two hours were going to be necessary. Bastards.

First off, we had to show our passports to the guard at the front gate - of an AIRPORT. That should have clued us into something, but nooo...we're just innocent Canadians trying to get to a city within the confines of Israel that was 350km away. This aiport is TINY...our hotel was bigger. Domestic flights are a breeze everywhere I've ever been. We got into the country super easy. This is fuckin nuthin, right?

You think I'd be leading up to impending doom so much if it was that easy? Bitch please.

After showing our passport again to someone guarding the front door, we walk inside. Two steps inside is the metal detector thinger. Hand over passports again, bags on belt, empty pockets, don't beep, voila. Hey, why aren't our bags coming out the other side of the machine? Odd. We don't have anything in there that's weird...

A voice emanates from a booth off to the left. "Excuse me, Mr...Burkey?"
"Uh...yes? That's me."
"Come over here please. And bring that bag (my daypack)."
"Er...okay."


3...2...1...the infamous Israeli verbal assault begins. Imagine this staring at you: A fairly pretty 19 year old girl wearing a big fuzzy brown sweater, with matching brown eyes and hair, and a nose that a toucan would be proud of. And she's got a look on her face that alternates between "I hate foreigners" and "My period just started and my tummy hurts".

I paint a pretty odd (yet vivid) picture with words, don't I? Anyway, it begins...

"Where are you flying? (the airport only offers flights to one destination - Eilat).
"Eilat?"
"How do you know about Eilat?"
"What? Uh...I've seen a map of Israel?"

BZZZZZT WRONG ANSWER! PROCEED TO ISRAELI DEFCON 2!

"Mr Burkey, I will be conducting a line of questioning in regards to why you are in Israel, what you are transporting, and your future travel plans. Is this acceptable?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"Fine. Do you know anyone in Israel?"
"No."
*her eyes narrow*
"Okay. How do you know your friend you're traveling with?"
"We've been friends since we 18 or so? 19?"
"How did you meet him?"
"Though his cousin Jim."
"How do you know his cousin Jim?
I met him through a mutual friend Mike."
"How do you know this Mike?"

...after 7-8 minutes of questions about how I know everyone I know, part 2 commenced...

"What is your purpose for coming to Israel?"
"Tourism."
"Why did you decide to come here?"
"There's a lot to see, I guess. And it was his idea... *look and point at Jess, who's being interviewed by another woman behind me*
"DO NOT LOOK OVER THERE. LOOK AT ME."
"Uh, okay?"
"How do you know about Tel Aviv and what you made come here?"
"Uh, it's a world-renowned city? And there's lots of cool stuff to see?"
"What stuff? How do you know of this stuff?"
"Uh...my Lonely Planet guide?"
"Show it to me."
"It's on my computer."
"Turn it on and show me."
*turn on computer, open guide while being eye-raped...and not in the fun way*
"Uh, here's the Carmel Market, Jaffa..."
"Where did you get this guide?"
"I bought it?"
"Where?"
"From their website?"
"Why do you keep answering your questions with statements that sound like questions?"
"Why are you asking so many questions?"

WRONG ANSWER AGAIN! ISRAELI DEFCON 3!

After 15 more minutes of inane questions...

"Why are you going to Jordan?"
"To see Wadi Rum and Petra."
"How are you getting there from the border?"
"The guy that runs the bedouin camp is picking us up."
"How do you know this man?"
"Uh, from the internet? We've exchanged emails."
"Let me see them."
*hand them over*
"HA. This Arab man...this Obeid...what if he doesn't pick you up?"
"I get my friend over there to pay for a taxi, I guess."
"What if there are no taxis there?"
"There are."
"How do you know?"
*Tim points at computer*
*Lady makes angry/crampy face*

...and so on. For 45 minutes. Seriously. When she finally ran out of questions, I was told to go back and sit down where Jess was now chillin. I got there, and we just looked at each other and laughed. "GOD DAMN!", we said in unison. Jess then introduced me to the Israeli guy across from us that was on our flight.

"Whoa, that was intense!" I said.
"HAHA you guys are really getting the gears! All foreigners get this. Anyone with Israeli passports can take whatever they want on flights, they barely pay attention to us. But everyone else? I feel sorry for you guys. It's not over yet."
"What?"
"Mr Burkey, Mr Jess (?)...come over here please."
"Sorry guys."
"...Grab your bags and follow us. You and your baggage will be searched in a separate location" she said.

ISRAELI DEFCON 4. The "oh shit!" meter is off the charts.

We both sat down in 2 bowl-shaped chairs outside a building across the alley from the terminal entrance.
"Mr Jess (I don't know why they kept calling him Mr Jess)...please come inside."

DUNNN DUNNN DUNNN.

10 minutes later he walks out, kinda white-faced, and fired an odd look at me. "Your turn." He smiled a bit. Uh, okay?

I entered a small room, with two dudes standing there and a small screening device beside them. "Mr, Burkey (why Burkey?), please take off your shoes and empty your pockets. If you have any money or credit cards in your wallet, you are entitled to hold onto them if you choose to". I was swept with a wand you see at regular airports when you beep after the metal detector. "Take off your belt". Into the machine. Swept again. "Drop your pants. "And your shorts. And take off your shirts." Swept again. Then they looked at each other. Ruh roh.

I still had my boxers on, which I was thankfully spared from dropping. But two thoughts rang through my head at that moment -

1. "I hate your country right now."
2. "Now I know why Jess had that stupid smile on his face."

You know that scene in every movie where someone's getting strip searched? The one where you hear the snap of a rubber glove? Well they were already wearing them, so I was spared that. I, however, was not spared the illegal touching referenced in the title. This dude took his gloved hands and...well, let's just say some people pay money for massages like that, apparently. And no you sick bastards, not one with a happy ending. Gross. I was spared the indignity of fingers inside me, and really didn't get violated all that bad in the end (wow, double entendre). But still...that's some traumatizing stuff. Buy a brother dinner first, come on.

"Okay sir, you're free to go...
"Aweso -"
"...and now we will begin searching your bags."
"Schiesse."
"What?"
"Nothing."

Jess filled me in on the increasing stupidity as soon as I stepped outside.

"So, they need to search our bags still (they've screened them 3 times already!)...they're not gonna make the flight, but we can if we want. We can wait for the next flight 3.5 hours from now and go with our bags, or go now and pick up our bags from the airport later."
"Wow. That's...weird."
"Yeah, we -"
*Dude comes outside, hands a book to the chick standing there*
"What's this?" she says to Jess.
"A book?"
"It's big."
"Uh, yeah. It's a textbook for a professional course I'm taking...so I can get professional certification."
"School book?"
"Yeah."
"I thought you were on vacation. Who brings a school book on vacation?'
"HIM!" I butted in and responded.
"Hmmmmm.....okay." she said and went inside.
I continued - "So what do you think we should d-
"What's THIS?" she said as she came back out the door.
"It's a cleaner for my camera." Jess said. "It blows air into the lenses."
"Hmmmmm...okay."
"Dude, we should go. NOW." I said. If they were gonna ask us about every item in our bag, I might freak the fuck out. I was relatively calm throughout the whole ordeal, because I obviously had nothing to hide, but them resorting to acting like children and asking about all our shit was, as Peter Griffin says, really grinding my gears.
"Okay, let's go get on the flight then." Jess said. "Are we staying close to the airport in Eilat?"
"I think so. It's pretty small, so I think everything's close."
"Cool. Let's go. We don't have much time."

We told them we were gonna go, and were thrown into a sedan and driven to the plane, which was surprisingly far away considering how tiny the airport was. All the passengers watched us get out of the car, probably knowing what we just had to deal with. After boarding the 40-odd year old plane and a quick 50 minute flight, we arrived in Eilat. Where the story concludes on a couple of humorous notes.

The first funny came at my expense, of course. After departing another tiny airport, we got in a cab while I handed Jess the hotel confirmation email.

"C Hotel please." I said.
"C Hotel?" the cabbie responded.
"Yup."
"You sure?"
"Uh, yeah?"
Okay...here we go."
Jess decides to pipe up at this point... "Uh, Tim, the email says tha -"
"There it is!" the cabbie points and says. "I have to go around though. Can't get in this way."

We had driven about 50 feet from the airport exit, and through a roundabout. Yes. 50 feet.

"Uh, Tim...the email says the hotel is a one minute walk from the airport."
"Oh. Shit. Is that really it?" I said.
"Yes!" Helpful Cabbie says...as we drove by it. And kept going for about a half kilometer. Then turned around and came back.
"50 shekels."
"What? 50? For that? No...aww fuck here, just take it."

Let's sum this up: I had just paid about 13 bucks to be transported approximately 80 feet in total distance from my starting point. I could have thrown a rock from the airport exit and hit my hotel. Fuck. Jess laughed at me. I laughed at myself. Just another day on the road. It IS pretty funny, I guess.

After we checked in and walked around for a few hours, we went back to the airport to get our shit. It obviously wasn't fucking far away. The ladies hand us our bags, which feel very light. As we look at each other, confused...another lady shows up with a baggage cart full of what looks like UPS packages. I don't know how many, maybe 25? 30? "Your electronics are here!" says baggage lady. What?

I have no idea why, but every individual electronic item was placed into a different package to be transported on the plane. No matter how big or small the item was, they all came in these identical big envelopes filled with bubble paper. Every cord was in it's own package. Bitch's huge camera came in a package the same size as my ipod shuffle did. At that point, it was like our version of Jewy Christmas. We just opened all the presents, and handed over whatever wasn't ours to the other person. And laughed hysterically, while the Jewy airline ladies looked at us with disdain.

So, that was our "50 minute" domestic flight from Tel Aviv to Eilat. I think you can understand why I will never, EVER fly domestic in Israel again. At that point, I actually never wanted to step foot in Israel at all again. I'd been molested, insulted, typecast, and racially profiled...all in the course of 5.5 hours. I guess it's something people get used to as part of life in Israel. But you know what? Fuck that. That's fucking bullshit. I'll take the relative lax security of Canada in exchange for the personal freedoms I enjoy, thankyouverymuch. Like keeping my clothes on before I board a plane.

And if you feel like I got off light because we weren't completely strip searched, and you expected more from this story, well...surprise! You got Jewed! At least I learned something there.

Next episode is all about cat fights, border crossings, and chillin in the desert with bedouins. And some travel surprises that turned out awesome. Stay tuned.

Epic Journey to the Middle East, Part 2 - Tel Aviv

Germans are weird. There, I said it. They usually come across as 10 times as nice as your regular European, but they have this look on their face that seems sooo fake. Everyone in our Cologne hotel was exactly like that. I mentioned it to Jess, and he covered it better than I ever could - "Yeah, it's weird. They seem nice, but they'll probably stab you in the throat when you turn around."

So, onto the holidays. Y'all probably woke up Christmas Day, opened some presents, maybe rebelled a bit by putting some baileys in your coffee. Hung out with the family. Ate some turkey. Blah blah. All the bullshit I avoid like the plague. Christmas Day for Jess and I? Lil different, yo. We're going to Jewyland!

Note - For all of you with Jewish relatives, don't call anything "Jewy" like I do about 643 times in this blog. They hate that apparently.

6am. Cologne airport. Two security screenings, which is one too many. A nice long wait on the bus that is going to take us to our plane, which conveniently sits there in -9C weather with the doors wide open. Guess who was right beside the door?

Pretty reasonable 4.5 hour flight to Israel. Arrive in the Holy Land. Looks like someone bulldozed everything around the runways. Oh wait...they did. Not pretty. Welcome to the Middle East!

I'd heard for years that Israeli security is unbelievably harsh and that we were gonna get questioned up the wazoo trying to enter the country. I had all the paperwork ready for the interrogation and all that. I wasn't gonna be intimidated by some big-nosed angry Israeli guy. Wait, guy? Why are all the immigration people women? And why are they all young and hot? Odd. Wait, why is that dark-skinned guy in front of us yelling at them? Don't be stupid buddy! Oh shit, he's being hauled into a back room by some beefy male security guards that just showed up. Whoa. Uh oh.

I got all psyched up for the barrage of questions, and Jess and I approached a pretty brunette with an angry look on her face:

"Where did you arrive from?"
"G-Germany."
"What is the purpose of your trip?"
"T-t-tourism?"
"How many days you stay?"
"Six. Total. We're going to Jordan too."
"Thank yous. Goodbyes."

My shock and excitement about being admitted to the Holy Land lasted about 6 seconds, until Jess said "You're so dumb. I told you it'd be easy." He was right this time, but he'd get his Jewy security lesson in a few days. For now though...we were in fucking Israel bitches! Bust out the shofars and draidels! Don't worry about not knowing what the hell that means...I didn't have a clue what they were either until I was there for a few days.

Our first stop was an ATM, which made us both immediately envious of how cool their money is. Canadians like to say they have colorful bills, but Israel puts them to shame - their money is fucking nice. Too bad we had to spend so much of it right away, because the train into the city was stopped for a while because of Shabbat.

READER NOTE - Shabbat is the stupidest fucking thing in the free world, and I hate it more than I hate hepatitis. I'm still not sure why I hate hepatitis, but that's not the point. I will explain more about Shabbat in future blogs, but here are the basics - Jews need a day off each week, and they need rules to govern that day off. It lasts from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday, basically. They go with rules written 2000 years ago, because they're Jews and they make no sense. The rules are ridiculous. Here's just two of the fun ones - They can't turn light switches on and off. And hey can't ride elevators unless they stop at every floor, because they're not allowed to push buttons. You really think they had light switches or buttons 2000 years ago?

What the fuck?

So, we had to pay something like 45 bucks to take a cab into Tel Aviv because Shabbat shut down the trains. We arrived at our hotel, which turned into stereotype central in about 10 seconds. I talked to the reservations guy, who told me about all his Jewy relatives in Canada and how he had to go to Vancouver ASAP. Jess got stuck talking to a Jewy American hotel guest hanging in the lobby, who explained the ins and outs of bargaining and never paying full price for anything. Seriously. Both were super cool and very nice, but it was surreal. Are they all really like this? American TV wasn't lying?

After we left the hotel...it took about 5 minutes of walking for us to figure out that Tel Aviv was fucking awesome.

Ever seen You Don't Mess With the Zohan? I hadn't until after I left and Jess insisted I watch it. But at the very start of that movie, Adam Sandler walks down a hill onto Frishman Beach in Tel Aviv, with ladies all around him. Our hotel was 30 seconds from that hill, and 2 minutes from that beach. That was our introduction to Tel Aviv, walking down that same hill onto that same beach. Killer.

To the right of the street, a strip of beach bars stretches for half a kilometer or so. After that, there's a bunch of people on the beach playing a grown-up version of paddleball that I'd never seen before. It was like ping pong for big people with no table. Again, that stupid Zohan movie I watched later captured it perfectly, way better than I ever could. It's called maktot, apparently.

We decided that it was drinky time, so we settled into a table at a beach bar. Drinks were fairly pricey, but that wasn't exactly surprising - we were apparently in a pretty famous place. Jess and I sipped 9 dollar pints and 3 dollar jager chasers (best. idea. ever), while we admired the wealth of female talent using the boardwalk as their personal exercise area. Seriously people, Israeli girls are really hot if you don't mind the big noses.

While Jess took 26335 pictures of the sunset, I...got shitfaced. And admired the abstract culture. Apparently back in the day, Russia was one of the few countries sympathetic to the Jewy plight, and they sent over 100,000 Russian Jews to their "homeland" at their request. Israel was so appreciative for the support that they pledged to make the Russians feel as at home as possible - so they put Russian writing on a lot of their signs. 50 years later, it's still there. It was trippy to see menus, or street signs, or pretty much any sign in Hebrew, English, and...Russian. I had no idea about the Russian influence on Israeli culture until I saw it with my own eyes. (It became quite obvious later when we figured out that almost every cab driver was of USSR descent).

It had been a very long day by around 10pm, and I was less than sober, so I decided to shut er down. There was an Irish pub about 60 feet from our hotel, and I couldn't even muster the will to check it out. I was done. Jess on the other hand...was not. After I passed out, he walked north from our hotel, past the marina, all the way to the old port, which was where all the cool clubs were. He basically walked all the way to the local airport, and back, which is almost 5km each way. Good on him, I guess. I thought it was weird at the time he told me about it, but it turns out the Old Port was kinda cool.

The next day was all about us trying to grasp some culture. South of our hotel was a gigantic bazaar called the Carmel Market. Basically a flea market, but way cooler and less ghetto than a swap meet. We walked all the way though it, laughing at the crazy shit we saw. An entire table full of candy (mostly gummy worms), then a table full of t-shirts with ridiculous touristy slogans on them, then a table full of dates and nuts and stuff. Everyone was pretty chill until you hover for a second too long, or (god forbid) ask the price of something.

Then it's fucking ON.

"45 shekels. You like? Is very nice."
*walk away*
"40 shekels, yes? Very good quality!"
*keep walking*
"35 shekels! 35!"
*barely paying attention, still walking, like 4 stalls away by now*
*HEY! YOU! HOW MUCH YOU WANNA PAY? COME BACK!"

We were already headed south anyway, so we decided to head for Jaffa. Jaffa is the Arab town about 4.5km south of Tel Aviv. The main city's actually normally referred to as "Tel Aviv-Yafo" to incorporate the two towns. Yafo=Jaffa in Hebrew, apparently. Hebrew sucks, by the way. I'll get to that in a later blog.

Now that we were out of the Market, we were already almost 2km into the trip, so walking the rest of the way worked out well. The weather was absolutely perfect - about 15c, clear skies and sunny, with a great breeze off the water. We stopped at a beach bar on the way, admiring the hot JAPs (Jewish American Princesses) and the beaches themselves. Tel Aviv is an awesome Mediterranean city, there's no doubt about that. I've been to a few now, and it's the best yet.

As we approached Jaffa, shit changed up quick. Modern architecture gradually degraded into crumbling ancient buildings. We walked along the actual port at the bottom, which the Romans used 2000 years ago as their most important link to supply the Middle East via ship. It was still a bustling and thriving port on the day we walked in...obviously with a very different purpose, but still pretty cool.

After walking for a bit through the port, we climbed the hill up into Jaffa proper. This village had all these obviously modern fountains, with rocks carved into the shapes of whales, or goldfish. These were in the middle of a 2000 year old citadel on top of a mountain, designed to ward off intruders to the throne of whomever ruled it at the time. A huge sign just outside the walls described the ridiculously turbulent 3000+ year history of Jaffa, naming ruler after ruler and conqueror after conqueror. The mix of ancient and modern was really interesting.

We sat in a cafe, watching 18 and 19 year old Jewish girls in their military uniforms, carrying automatic weapons, which is a bit strange the first time you see it. You get used to it though. Everyone, man and woman, has to do a mandatory 2 years in the military. That's why all the immigration officials were young girls - it's all military duty.

20 minutes later, we wandered by a clocktower with a speaker on it, belting out the Muslim call for prayer that's echoed as far as possible 5 times a day. Jess was in a store buying mud from the Dead Sea, which supposedly is full of minerals and good for your skin. I stood outside, getting harassed by a Jewy street vendor trying to get me to buy a shirt that said "Israel Defense Force"...listening to the prayer call. A very odd couple of minutes for sure, at least to me.

The rest of our day just involved observing various things about the city, and drinking. We headed back to the beach bars for a while, then made our way to an American bar called Mike's Place and watched some NFL football. After that we took a cab up to the Old Port, where all the clubs where. They looked pretty cool, but it seemed like everything was closed that night. Oh well. We headed back to the Irish Pub and had the weirdest Shepherd's Pie ever, and I went to the store to buy beer. There weren't any prices on anything, so I carried 4 to the counter with a bag of chips and asked how much. The guy looked at the beer, then me, then the beer, then me again, and said "60". That's like 17 bucks.

In other words...I got ripped off. What a surprise.

After that, it was sleepy time, then the ill-fated flight to Eilat I'll never forget. Ever. Ever ever ever.