The kids burned my camping list. . .

in an unfortunate accident, but we managed to reconstruct it. We're six people with too many bags to count, containing food for two days and camping gear. Good thing there's no weight check involved this time. I expect to be back to blogging next week after school starts--if it starts.

(Mis)Adventures in International Travel: Back to NY

After Brookside Gardens we went to Max's, a kosher deli, for lunch. My brother hoped we could sit down, but my daughter (DiI) insisted we leave for the airport. I took the food, booster seats, strollers and children onto the Metro and said goodbye to my brother and nephew.

At National the computerized Shuttle "kiosk" rejected us. We were misdirected upstairs to the regular Delta counter, with a humongous line, and at 1:10 we found the Shuttle counter. Our flight was for 1:30. At least it wasn't cancelled.

When the computer again did not show our reservations, the agent simply began to book us in manually. I told her about the threat on our trip down, and she said we wouldn't be charged. She printed out old-fashioned cardpaper tickets and boarding passes. The people behind us in line were plotzing, so the agent advised them to check in using the electronic kiosk. "That's what they're for," she informed them helpfully.

At about 1:20 we got to the security line. The inspector looked at my brand-new boarding passes, marked them for special security, and directed us to another line. It's that middle eastern thing again; I'm not sure how we escaped it on the way down. DiI still doesn't understand how they knew just from looking at the boarding passes.

The woman at the front of the newest line decided not to argue with me after I explained that we had been diverted here from another line and our flight was in ten minutes. Small children are useful sometimes. They patted us down gender-appropriately and rifled through our hand luggage. When the basket on the conveyor belt began ringing an agent gave permission to answer my cellphone; we had passed. It was my brother -- I think he realized that we may have cut it too close. I told him that if he didn't hear from us again, we were on the plane.

We replaced our shoes and ran to the gate, catching the plane about 30 seconds before the doors closed. Two passengers from the check-in line boarded right behind us. We buckled into seats in the last three rows of the plane,

My four-year-old could finally eat her hotdog.

Highlights of My Washington Trip

The nevertheless entertaining Tisha B'Av edition of Haveil Haveilim can be found over at Simply Jews.

We finally arrived in Washington. Usually, by the time I arrive at my sister's house with my small children, the last thing I want to do is get on another plane. But I decided to be brave, and flying the day after arrival was even braver. Below are some highlights.

• One day we visited museums with an old friend and her kids, and the next day we went to the zoo. Here is the 6.5-year-old elephant taking a bath; my four-year-old recently wondered whether it had turned seven yet.

• We had a mini-misadventure on the bus from the Metro. My brother rarely takes the bus so we agreed that I would call to find out where to disembark. After trying his cellphone six times I realized that I could call my sister in New York to get his home number. My sister-in-law, who unfortunately knows less about bus travel than my brother, advised me to get off immediately. We did, and had to be rescued by car shortly afterward.
• Our second mini-misadventure occurred the next afternoon, upon discovering that I didn't have exact change for the bus. Purchases near the Metro involve vending machines and unless you have change to begin with, you are stuck. I asked a woman at the bus stop for change for $5, which she didn't have. I mentioned being $0.05 short and she offered me a nickel. Even though I would have gladly done the same for someone else I felt terribly uncomfortable. Should I have spent an extra $2 to avoid accepting a nickel from a stranger? This time we got off at the right stop and managed to find my brother's house (eventually).
• My brother and nephew were available for sightseeing on our last morning. But dragging luggage, carseats, and a stroller through downtown museums seemed vaguely impractical and we could not come up with a place to stow it. So my brother suggested Brookside Gardens. I thought my children would find a botanical garden dull after Washington's other attractions, but I try to be accommodating. Especially when someone else is driving. I should have trusted my older, wiser brother who taught me serious backgammon strategy. There was a lake, turtles, catfish, bridges, and stepping stones along with plants of all types. We wanted time to stop for lunch before the flight, so we debated buying a ticket for the butterfly exhibit. And again my brother made the right move. After observing butterflies at different stages of development. Then we entered a large room filled with butterflies of all colors, patterns and sizes flitting about like, well, butterflies. Before you leave you check in a mirror to make sure none is catching a ride on your back.
• My sister-in-law and nephews are probably not used to hosting such a crowd, but you couldn't have guessed. We had fun together.
• I tracked down a cousin and ended up going to a "lechayim" for her daughter's engagement.

In case you were wondering, we did have a misadventure on our way back to New York. I hope you can handle the suspense . . .

(Mis)Adventures in International Travel: Delta and El Al Stand Off

In my last post I was on my way to the airport.

We had reservations for the 5:30 shuttle to Washington, and it looked like we might even catch the 4:30. But when I presented our e-tickets, the Delta agent said our new reservations didn't show up on her computer. "You don't have a reservation for this flight."

She poked some more into the computer and found us still listed on the original flight. And darn it, there wasn't anything she could do. She could make the change herself, but we would be charged another change fee and full-price shuttle fare, adding up to over $440 per ticket. She doesn't know what El Al did, but they didn't do what they were supposed to when they changed the ticket. She gave the unmistakable impression that this wasn't her problem.

Traveling internationally these days requires nerves of steel, I tell you.

I asked the agent for El Al's number. I managed to reach the agent who had changed the reservation. Why, I am sure you are asking, didn't the Delta agent offer to do this? I leave that to your imagination. The El Al agent asked to speak to the Delta agent. The Delta agent was not convinced, as she still could not find our new reservations. She handed me back the phone. The El Al agent put me on hold. "Round one to Delta," I reported to my daughter. The El Al agent came back on and asked to speak to Delta again. The Delta agent punched a bunch of numbers into her computer and managed to pull up my reservation.

Round two to El Al. We would go on the plane. The 6:30 plane, that is, because the 5:30 was cancelled. The shuttle ain't what it used to be.

The agent printed up our boarding passes, and then two other agents pored over the screen. (There were about four agents who seemed to have nothing to do. Contrast this to the single agent I would find at National, which admittedly handles fewer flights.) "I see the problem," one said. "You're not hooked in." She punched in more numbers and "hooked in" each of the new reservations. "There, you shouldn't have any more problem." "This won't happen again on our return flight?" "No," she assured me.

The departure lounge was comfortable enough. It's a good thing I ignored my brother-in-law who made fun of me for for taking food for the 45-minute flight. We had left my sister's home at around 3:30 and got to my brother's after 8:00. (Actually, the terminal seemed to stock quite a selection of kosher food.)

There was one bright spot: Despite our flight having originated in the Middle East, we passed under the radar, so to speak, and avoided going through "special security." Miracles do happen.

(Mis)Adventures in International Travel: A long life

A year ago my sister's energetic and charismatic mother-in-law, still living on her own, was diagnosed with incurable cancer. It was sad to hear of this 96-year-old woman suffering at the end of life.

My sister called a few days before my trip to tell me that her mother-in-law had stopped eating. She died at her home the morning I arrived.

Usually I stay in New York when I visit, but this year I had arranged to visit my brother in Washington. He agreed to have us come a week earlier than planned, so I changed our reservations in order to leave after the funeral the next day. After paying the airline's fee, we received e-tickets with the new dates. We would return to New York after the bulk of the family had left my sister's house, where the shiva would take place.

At the funeral my brother-in-law spoke about his mother's passion for her grandchildren. She bragged about them to no one but their parents, because telling people outside the family would only make them feel bad. Her grandson spoke about her giving him a check for $100.25. When he inquired about the odd sum she replied that the hundred dollars was because she loved him. The $0.25 was so that he would "call her sometime."

I blogged here about the compassion and assistance of my sister's in-laws during another international trip. My sister's mother-in-law had a warm place in her heart for my family, and despite the "balagan" of arriving in the midst of everything I was glad to be at the funeral. My children stayed with my father and his helper.

About thirty people returned to lunch at my sister's, but I didn't have much time before leaving for the airport. Amazingly, my sister found a ride for the four of us with a couple on their way back to Manhattan. They were happy to fill their van, now that their children are mostly grown. I sympathized; our own van is rarely full these days.

To be continued . . .

Jet lag and secondary jet lag

I handle jet lag well upon arrival in the US. We function during the day, despite waking up at 3 am for several days. By the second morning the kids already woke at 7:30. The return is different. Typically we are all awake at night the first week, then I suffer for an additional week. It's not just the jetlag; it's having to jump back into the summer "routine." I find myself not remembering things that happened during that first week at home. And my husband complains about "secondary jet lag" from everyone else's night-wakings.

We arrived yesterday afternoon. My 7yo then slept all night, getting up in time for my husband to take him to camp. Go figure. My 4yo slept for a while then lay quietly with her head on my lap during the wee hours, and then slept again from 4am to 1:00 PM. I slept only from 6:30 to 10:30 am.

I am determined to beat the jet lag this time. I have to order school books, prepare sheva brachot, and plan a vacation, while keeping the house running with everyone home all day. I read that when fatigue hits, one should drink coffee and take a nap until the caffeine kicks in. I plan to try this approach, but am open to other suggestions.

Adventures in International Travel -- Packing Light

Robin, this is for you. In my previous post I mentioned having brought one suitcase for our two-week trip to New York. It weighed 21 kg (about 45 lbs) and contained everything for the four of us, in addition to our hand luggage (also as light as possible).

I knew I would be staying at my sister's and brother's homes. They have washing machines, so pajamas, 3-4 days worth of lightweight clothes, and Shabbat outfits (two each), sufficed. I added bathing suits and swim floats, and a duffel bag for the return trip. I didn't shlep toothpaste or shampoo, umbrellas or jackets. My daughter and I each took one additional pair of shoes; the younger children took none. In an emergency, we could easily buy something. And I didn't even end up wearing everything. Two booster seats and a stroller were a royal pain but didn't count in the weight.

Another reason to pack light is to save room for the return. Besides books for the children and the book club, the seats and the stroller, I'm taking a guitar for my son and an air mattress--we hope to try camping again.

(Mis)Adventures in International Travel, Part I: An unexpected stop

The woman ahead of us in line for luggage inspection at Ben Gurion Airport was taking a long time. A man from a second line that fed into ours, who had arrived long after us, made his way to the front and tried to get his items through. I told him that we were next. He replied that he had paid triple for business class and was entitled to go first. I responded that El Al should be the one to decide, but let it go. The woman behind me, who had an earlier flight, confronted him in an Italian accent. Finally a supervisor noticed his aggressive behavior and came over. The only words I caught from their conversation were, "I am the ganenet and I say . . ." So much for business class privileges.


Afterward I went to check in. I saw an express check-in line with two bored ticket agents, and asked whether we could check in there. "No, this is only for passengers who printed out their boarding passes." Well, I had the boarding passes--I was so proud of myself. They complimented me on taking only one suitcase, weighing 21 kilograms, for four people.

The plane left only half an hour late, early by El Al standards. What a difference a year makes, when it comes to travelling with small children. My 4-year-old sat quietly when she wasn't sleeping. Last year I walked around with her much of the time.


About an hour in, there was an ominous announcement from the public address system: "If there is a doctor on the plane, please identify yourself to a crew member." Later I saw a doctor in the aisle treating the patient. Instead of being anxious to get to New York, I found myself hoping that they would stop and take her to the hospital. A stewardess told me that they had sent her vital statistics to Israel, and had been advised to keep flying. But then we got the announcement about an unscheduled stop in Shannon, Ireland, to take the passenger to the hospital. They said she had had a heart attack.


A doctor and paramedics boarded the plane in Shannon. After interviewing the Israeli doctor and examining the patient, the doctors stood in the aisle next to me while the paramedics removed her from the plane. "This is going to be the hardest part," the Irish doctor informed us. "These aisles are narrow. We used to remove passengers when the Concord stopped through here, where the aisles are even narrower." He told the Israeli doctor that El Al ought to give him a first-class seat for the rest of the flight. We all chuckled. I asked the Israeli doctor his specialty; he is a heart surgeon.

Shannon is a small town, but the quiet airport with wide runways, near the Atlantic coast, is a frequent stopping point for flights with ill passengers. Patients are then brought to the hospital in nearby Limerick. Crowded Heathrow had refused to let our flight land. A crew member disembarked with the patient, who seemed alert and in good spirits. The doctor confirmed that she should be fine.


Then we waited. The doctor had said that her luggage would have to be removed from the hold for security reasons. I don't know if it was, but by the time we took off our arrival had been delayed by over three hours. My sister had planned to meet us, but I wasn't sure that extended to a 3am arrival time. When we landed I called her cell phone to no reply. I figured that if she didn't come we would hang around until a normal hour. But she was there waiting for us. My experience raising a large without my extended family makes me truly appreciate my siblings. Who else would pick me up from the airport in the middle of the night?