First day in Israel

Stepping off the plane, thirty one pairs of students eyes were all bloodshot and their whereabouts all We had just landed in Israel, two of us for the first time. After gathering our bags and heading towards the bus we were greeted by our smiling Israeli tour guide, Guy, a big green bus, a driver, and a signature red shirted Israeli security-guard/medic hybrid, with locks of hair the girls would die for. All of us were severely drained of energy. Physically, mentally, and emotionally we were burnt out by the holocaust and all of Poland's depressing history. Israel would now change all that. Some of us passed out the very moment we sat down. Others mustered up the energy to shove bags into the bottom of the bus. But a two hour bus nap to Caesaria would be virtually dead silent except for brief introductions from Guy. When we got to Caesaria he woke us, gave us our schedule and we dragged our tired bodies off the bus. Suddenly, 62 eyes were wide. Caesaria was absolutely beautiful. The weather was perfect, the sun was shining, and happiness struck the faces of every student there. We then ate the best breakfast of my life. Fresh oven fired pseudo-pizzas (I say that because they had an untraditional breakfast feel to them, or maybe I was just way too tired), barista-made cappacinos, and all the other traditional Israeli foods they consider breakfast. Either way, for a first experience in Israel, there was nothing like this. A mere hundred feet away from the tables were the ruins of the Caesaria harbor. The water was turquoise blue and waves were crashing softly on the rocky beach. It was tranquil, calm, serene. All the depression of Poland and torrential exhaustion was washed away on the thousand year old rocks of Caesaria. I knew I had found a new appreciation for life after the experience of the prior week, but for some reason, this moment sealed it. A few of us even found a quite place to sit and admire the greatest creations of both man and G-d come together seemlessly. Nevertheless, our education of the holocaust was far from over. Just like we had made our "exodus" out of Poland and come to Israel, our next stop would have a similar message, one that was an unavoidable part of our history. The British control over what was then Palestine prevented the liberated but displaced Jews from finally returning to their homeland. Atlit was where they went. Controlled by the British, Jews who did not have the correct "papers" for immigration would be held here. When we pulled up, however, an emotional reaction overcame everyone  simultaneously in an almost audible fashion: "not again." The rebuilt camp looked exactly like another concentration camp. In hindsight, I realize this actually intensified the lesson as there is no doubt prior generations of Jews reacted the same. Our tour started in a ship-turned-museum designed to recreate the conditions on the refugee ships that had brout Jews from all over Europe to Israel. It was quite effective, despite our morning food and energy rush having worn off and people fighting their bodies to stay awake.  What really caught me, however, was when we went to the bath and disinfection building. Expecting to see the same horrors as we did in Auschwitz-Birkenau or Majdanek, we weren't completely let down, but what the guide told us after hit me quite hard. He said that in order to get the traumatized Jews to use the showers, British soldiers had to physically test the showers to show them that they were safe. They also stood on the other side of the showers with fresh oranges in hand to show their disconnection from the Nazis that had deceived them before. I couldn't imagine trusting anyone after coming from something so haunting. To them, Atlit must have been pure luxury.  We ended our day with a delicious first Israeli dinner at by far the nicest hostel I have ever seen in Akko. The warning from our directors to avoid sleeping during our time off (to avoid jet lag setting in) allowed us plenty of time to reflect on a crazy, uninterrupted stretch of 48 hours that subjected us to immense sadnesses, contrasting joy, and a powerful experience that contained parallels and created connections between us and the very people we are here marching for. Kevin Sulski