The Gate Keeps Idiots Out...And In.

Words can't even begin to describe the feeling you get when you actually arrive here. There's a profound sense of purpose that seems to pervade the very air you breathe. This is true not only of the students who have come here from abroad but also of the Israeli people as they go about their business.

As we landed at Ben-Gurion airport, Israeli children and passengers broke out into applause and chants of "Am chai Israel! Am chai Israel!" Orthodox Jews fell to their knees in prayer in the aisles of the plane. It was a display that cannot be replicated anywhere on the planet. And it was powerful.

As we exited the plane, we were taken through passport control and customs and to assigned buses. Those of us on the 2nd and 3rd buses were being taken to Einstein dorms. The 1st bus was comprised entirely of just Ulpan students and was sent to the Brodetsky dorms. The trip took close to 30 minutes. During that time, one of the Madrichim (counselors), Moshe, instructed us on what to expect.

To say that I was pleasantly surprised is an understatement. Our dorms are newly renovated. So those of us living in the Einstein dorms (aptly named for its tenants in my opinion) really got the big straw. Full kitchen, spacious rooms, full bathroom, full-size refrigerator, a flat-screen television, and the prized possession of anyone living in the Middle East: air-conditioning. Jackpot. Yahweh be praised!

Of course none of this was apparent as the bus pulled up to the dorms. Instead, we were treated to a long line in the middle of the afternoon sun awaiting room assignments, our luggage being hauled into a jumbled pile beside the front gate. And that's something important that I should emphasize. Before I even arrived here, security was first and foremost on the minds of Israelis working at El Al. I had the privilege of witnessing that firsthand. That was but a precursor to the security I've seen on the ground. Our dorms are guarded 24/7 by a private firm. An IDF patrol is assigned to this particular area. IDF helicopters have flown overhead several times. In Israel, it's security, security, security. And the suburb of Ramat Aviv isn't dangerous at all--in fact, our area of town is the upscale section. But when you're surrounded on all sides by fanatical jihadists ready to kill you as soon as look at you, that is the price you pay.

I for one am not complaining.

Once we finished being assigned to our rooms, we were able to take our luggage up and were given the rest of the day off in order to recuperate. That would have been fine had I not been assigned to a sixth floor dorm having to haul roughly 160lbs of luggage up a winding stairwell. For those of you wondering, they don't really do elevators here.

Pouring sweat from every pore on my body, I arrived to find my suite mate, Ryan, whom I had met on the plane, unpacking. My roommate, who had arrived earlier this morning, was in the shower. Ryan seems like an interesting guy. He's very nice, clean, and possesses a keen wit and a methodical manner to him. He's also in the Master's program for Middle East History.

My roommate who appeared in a fashion I can only describe as near-teleportation, is one Dominique Talbot. Dominique is from Quebec. Dominique is French-Canadian. And Dominique is a separatist. That's right. God not only finagled a Canadian Frenchman to be my roommate, but one that actually wants to break away from Canada and rejoin his long lost frogmen across the pond. You can't write this stuff.

Fortunately, Dominique is hilarious. His grasp of English is pretty good, but it's not all the way there yet. He's in the Master's program as well and he wants to be a journalist. Probably the kind of journalist that will write a hit piece on me in a coordinated smear campaign one day down the road. We'll have to wait and see on that one.

Well, the three of us set off to go buy some groceries at the Ramat Aviv Mall located a quarter of a mile from the dorms. Have you heard the one about the Seattle waiter, the French-Canadian separatist, and the Alabama redneck walking into the Middle Eastern mall? Me neither.

Between Dominique haranguing some Israeli women about whether his bottle was shampoo or conditioner, Ryan digging through the dairy aisle for anything to denote it came from a cow, and me trying to persuade the nice little Jewish cashier that American currency wasn't as devalued and worthless as Obama clearly wants it to be, I'm pretty sure we offended everyone in the mall grocery store. My bank card wouldn't work, the cashier clearly wasn't interested in Obamanomics, and shoppers were not amused by my gentile antics holding up their day. Fortunately Dominick forked out some shekels for my groceries and I promised to pay him back.

When we made it back to the dorms, Dominique and Ryan saw that I had bedding and decided another jaunt to the mall was in order. After a brief blog post, I could do little more than collapse on my bed and sleep for the next twelve hours.

And it was a good thing I did, too. Because today was a long day. And it all started with a torrential downpour in the dorm stairwell...