chapter 3

chapter 3 – Soft Landing

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The king and queen of Badulina never fly on business or first class. The king orders primarily the sits next to the emergency exit and he has much more place for his legs then any other passenger.

Food isn’t bothering them – they always carry surprises in their bags. The real reason that I wanted them to fly first class from India was to softened their first meeting with Israel.

“Listen” said the king, “You are the writer, you are not our body guard and you should not defend us from nothing.”

“All right” I said “Have it your way. Have a nice flight.”

And that was exactly what they had. Never in my life had I enjoy so much a flight with El-Al. I was wondering again and again – can it be that the Israelis became a friendly smiling nation – or is that part of the wired influence the royal couple have on people?

The king kept telling me “If you smile to the world the world smiles back” and I said “If you smile at strangers in Israel they will call the police.” But, meantime, they just smiled back at him, like kids. Stewardess ran around us’ piling up cushions and blankets and ear-phones. Checking all the time if there is something more they can do for us. Temporary travelers stayed next to us, forgetting they were on their way to the WC, smiling in a non-Israeli shyness to the queen, trying to make a conversation with the king to tell him how wonderful Israel is and wish him a successful visit.

Due to landing time when the plain lowered and we could see the Arava, one Israeli with a ragged suit stood by our window and asked permission to pip through it. “Well” he said to the king “What do you say?”

“Looks really nice.”

“The nicest in the world.”

“Have you traveled a lot in the world?”

“Here and there. But it doesn’t matter you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because it is ours” said ad went shining away. The speakers were playing a national song and all the plain was pulsing with excitement before applauding to the captain. The king moaned “Here where all troubles begin.”

“where?”

“From that “ours” expression. Its not love its attachment. Do you have and Hebrew word for attachment?”

“Not exactly. Dependency, Linkage”

“Yes. That need to turn something into yours in order to love it guarantees you never win love. If this country is the nicest in the world because its yours and not because of itself you enter obsessions of jalousie envy competition war defending borders, Just like with love partners by the way.

“I am the last one to defend nationality but there is a historical background here, It isn’t that simple. That man father’s had no country of his own and that might made him chased or even murdered. We live in a world where if you don’t have a country that belong to you, you cant effort yourself the luxury of admiring the view.”

“Who are we? I don’t know the world you are talking about. I have no country belong to me and that is why I can love India and Badulina and Israel in the same way, depend where I am. I don’t need an owner certificate. No one need. We come to this universe with nothing, No hair, No teeth and we are living in the same way. We get a visit in the Luna-Park and we are welcome to enjoy all facilities or stick to one of them but nothing here meant to become possession, it’s merely a loan.”

The speakers played another song “I have no other country”. Her royalty singed joyfully, earphones around her had, base of Reggae music slipping out.

The king pointed the hills above us and continued: “There is nothing like that Israel. Look downstairs. What do you see? 20,000 hills. Billions sand pieces, broken sunrise rays, Million aged rocks, are these yours? What this kind man likes is an idea not a place. Instead of living on earth you are living on a geo-political map.”

The Music got lauder and lauder. “Land where we were born, Land that we shall live in, whatever will be will be…” The queen shook her had from side to side pounding on the kings knees.

Once the applause finished every one jumps into the lockers snapping suitcases, slamming doors, catching a stand on the way to the exit. Here and there some pushes some fights. The king glimpses at me. “What?” I ask “They are doing exactly what you say all time. Each one of them is a king right? They deserve to be first on line. That is what happens when people think they deserve everything.”

“No. That’s what happens when people believe they can get what they want on the account of someone else. When you don’t believe in happiness without hurt or guilt. When you think that if you gain someone else must lose. If someone else is happy mean that I got screwed. That’s a mental illness it has nothing to do with royalty.”

The queen continues rocking and I wonder if she noticed we were landing. The king doesn’t show any signs of getting up as well. “Here, let’s see your royalty now. You don’t feel like pushing, you don’t believe your happiness should come on behalf of someone in front of you. What will happen is that you will have to push yourself like a Sardine into the bus downstairs in the sweat of all those who pushed before you.”

The king barely heard me. He was hypnotized by the crowd around us. Just when the plain was empty from all passengers the king and queen got up, took their bags , smilingly departing from the staff and came down. The bus was driving away from us , passengers arms waiving from its windows. A new empty bus was waiting only for us and drove the three of us to the terminal. “Well” I said “But now we will be last at the passports check-up.”

“Pleas try to get it into you – who doesn’t believe in trouble the troubles lose all interest in him.”

When we arrived the line was heavy, except for the foreigner’s line of course. The king and queen marched directly at the Clark and vanished within half a minuet. I was stack half and hour in the Israeli line.

It’s been few days that we are in Israel and everything smiles at us. The weather, the people, even dogs. We cross stores exactly when they have a grad opening with free wine and food , The buses arrives on time with a couple of reserved sits (The queen loves the buses), almost whoever we meet invites us to dinners. The king asks a lot of questions, but every time I present him with a political smart advice he stops me: “That has nothing to do with it” he says “It doesn’t explain nothing.”

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