This post is the second in a series about 25 years living in Israel.
When thinking back 25 years, I realize how much Israel has changed.
I remember that first time I landed on Ben Gurion airport, after my first plane ride. We descended movable stairs and stood on Israeli ground. I distinctly remember it to be asphalt.
In the Israeli movie Sallah Shabati people kiss the ground when they arrive, but I had not seen the movie yet. Nowadays there are those modern jetways where you walk through from the plane to the airport building, without being exposed to any fresh air. I think it is a pity. It was much more impressive 25 years ago, when you would suddenly stand on Israeli ground. I remember the air was warm, in November, in the middle of the night. Unthinkable for a Dutch girl.
It felt exciting, like I had just landed in a 3rd world country. Or at least in an exotic country. The farthest I had been from home before that was the Provence in the South of France.
We waited for a bus that would bring us to the main building. And after the checking of our passports in an enormous hall with an unorderly crowd standing in front of tens of booths, and waiting for our luggage, here I was. A stranger in a strange land. I walked, somewhat dizzily, in a throng of people towards the exit. Outside stood a small dark haired woman in her thirties, in her hand a sheet of paper with my name.
The adventure had begun!