The day I became Israeli – Part 2 – Yaron Butterfield’s blog

I was on a flight to Turkey with my newly acquired Israeli passport and allotted spending money. I realized that even though I had arrived in Israel as a Canadian, I was now leaving Ben Gurion airport as an Israeli.  My friends and I had many adventures in Istanbul and after a week, my trip was over and I was heading back to Israel.  At the airport, the man looked puzzled when I supplied my ticket.  Shaking his head, he gave the ticket back to me saying “no, expired”.  I looked in disbelief.  Either I made a mistake in the booking or the agent did.  Nevertheless, I hadn’t noticed that the ticket was scheduled for me to fly back two days earlier!!  I was stuck.  I had no one to call. What do I do?  I’m stuck at the Istanbul airport with nothing but an Israel passport and some Turkish lira left – only enough to buy a tasty Turkish coffee!

Suddenly a familiar voice from behind me called… “Yaron!!”  I turned around and it was my uncle Egal!  Here I was stranded at the Istanbul airport and my beloved uncle appears out of nowhere!!  He had no idea I was in Turkey and I had no idea he was.  I explained the situation to him as best I could in my broken Hebrew, and he took care of everything to get me home, including the ride home from the airport.

A week later I started my kibbutz ulpan and soon after my long lost wallet was found in the bus station.   Life in Israel is full of mystery!  In the first few weeks, I visited the kibbutz market.  The store keeper was looking at me with keen interest.  I approached him feeling he thought I was an intruder and wanting to explain to him that I was in the kibbutz ulpan.   “No”, he said.  “Your eyes…they look very familiar”.  I told him that my father was at the same kibbutz almost 30 years before.  “David?”  he asked.  He remembered my dad!  Amazing.

My Abba and I went to visit the kibbutz in 2014, and we shared similar stories of our experience.    When my father worked in the same kibbutz in 1970, in May he met my mom in a sherut taxi going to Jerusalem.   Just to think, if they got on different taxis, I would not have been able to have my kibbutz experience, I would not be Israeli and perhaps I would not be here to write this story!   Stay tuned!

Me and my uncle Egal (2014)

Me, Jen and Max in Istanbul (1997)