Be Not Going to Israel

Not a lot of people knew that I was supposed to be going to Israel for ten days at the end of this week. I hadn't talked about it very much. Perhaps I knew it wasn't meant to be. For those of you who knew I was going, well, now I am not. For those of you who did not know, continue on as you were.

It started out as a terrific idea. My dad had heard about a wonderful trip organized by a group in Israel in which about 60 women, from Israel and other parts of the world, would come together for an adventure driving jeeps through the desert. After some initial conversations with the organizers, an idea was devised whereby I would blog about the trip. It was presented to me as such: An all-expense paid trip to Israel, jeep adventure, blogging, and huge readership. There were a few other really cool women from Montreal already signed up to go. Heck, I was unemployed! How could I refuse?

Things began to unravel slowly. Despite being signed up, I had received very little communication from the organizers. I didn't know where we were going or what to bring. Then one Montrealer dropped out, for that very reason. Then another did, for personal reasons. Suddenly I was the only one going. But I was still up for the adventure.

Suddenly, not only did I have a job, I had two! But I had the time blocked off, I just needed to get enormous amounts of work done before leaving, including Fashion Week, leaving me very little time to focus on my upcoming travels. When people asked me about my trip, the weather in Israel during my travel time, the places I would be visiting...I had no answers. I felt like I was completely in the dark.

Then, finally, last week I received an email with additional information including my payment form and a medical form. Luckily I had set up a doctor's appointment a month earlier, without which it would have been almost impossible to get the information they needed in the time allotted. Anyone who has been in any kind of moving vehicle with me knows about my little motion sickness problem. I was booking myself a little travel insurance... a prescription for a anti-nausea patch. But with this came another problem. Apparently, these little patches have a risk for hallucinations. Hmmm...hallucinations vs. barfing. I was in for a bumpy ride.

It started to get a little more strange when, only days after receiving my payment form, I began to get angry phone calls from the trip organizers asking me to pay immediately. This sort of bristled, considering they had been so late in sending the forms and considering I don't love angry phone calls.

I began to talk to my family about my concerns. But was I just having cold feet? I tend to be a bit of a nervous traveller, but my jitters often subside as soon as the plane leaves the runway and I recall that there's a TV in front of me and I actually have NO CHOICE but to sit there and watch it. And I often have slight travel reluctance, but I'm always happy once I get to my destination. If I backed out now, would I regret it?

After a couple of post fashion week 10-hour sleeps left me feeling somewhat more capable of digesting information, I took some time to re-read all the information they had sent me. Waitasecond. The departure location had changed three times, to various different locations between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. I would need to change my hotel reservations and book further travel. The 60 women they had promised was now down to 30. They still hadn't told me where I would be sleeping. And was there even internet in the desert for me to be blogging?

I called my parents and spoke to them about my reservations. They admitted they had been feeling the same way. Three guts, all saying "don't go." It was definitely time to listen. When we called the Montreal liaison, we weren't surprised to find out that she was having her own doubts about the organization of the trip, and did not blame me one bit for pulling out.

The last straw for me came after I googled the trip's name and came across a video. In the clip from a previous trip, a bunch of women wearing matching t-shirts are hugging and singing some thematic song to the tune of Dancing Queen.

Hugging?!? Singing?!?! Matching t-shirts?!?!? ABBA???!??!!

I knew right then, this was not the trip for me. I'll go to Israel soon. I may even drive a jeep through a desert. But I will do it on my own terms. No ABBA included.

Be Not Going to Israel.