Day One.

Approaching the passport control booth at Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv, i knew what was coming but i'd forgotten what it felt like. They soon jogged my memory. This time, the woman behind the glass didn't even ask me any questions. No sooner had she taken my passport and looked at her computer, i was told to 'please to go with that woman'. Certain i was standing alone two seconds ago and therefore slightly confused, i turned around to find said woman had scarily appeared to the right of me without my even noticing. I turned and followed her to what looked like quite a generic waiting room with an open door way - rubberplant corner as it's refered to by fellow activists - which was situated behind us in the corner of the passport hall. I was told to place my hand luggage bag by the entrance and take a seat inside. Within seconds there were five officials in the room with me (two men, three women) and my passport, tickets and baggage claim label were all taken away to be checked.

Earlier that day, i had sat outside Heathrow airport and re-read the email print outs myself and my israeli friend had been exchanging. The information upon them was (hopefully) going to be my ticket into the country. They outlined our 'story' and my reason for visiting, detailing how and where we met last year, what we did and what our personal details were. Due to the fact the israeli government now works on denial of entry of activists instead of deporting them during their stay, by having someone on the 'inside', ie: a purpose for visiting, i was a lot more likely to get into the country. Having read the emails over and over, i wrote up the key points on my phone and saved them as a draft text message which would enable me to do some last minute revision that could easily be erased/disposed of before i arrived.

Sat in the waiting room in Ben Gurion airport, surrounded by israli security officials, i realised i'd forgotten to delete that text.

I don't think i've ever felt my heart beat harder in my life. It was like something out of a low budget action movie and i wouldn't have been surprised if everything had started to move in slow motion from this point on. Me reaching for the bag - them reaching for their guns - no no am such a drama queen but even so, it was fucking scary. This was the one thing (apart form being small and brown) that would not only deny me entry but also lead to several hours of difficult questioning for both myself and my friend and who knows what else.

Feigning a problem with my contact lens (a fairly regular occurrence at the best of times), i approached the least official/most unsure looking women of those milling around the entrance. I asked her if i could get my saline solution from inside my bag as my eye was starting to hurt. She agreed and then lost interest as someone else was brought into the room. I took my chance and with what appeared to be complete nonchalance (but was really nothing short of utter panic), i rooted around for my phone in my bag. Nearly dying at my own anal battery-saving efficiency, i saw it was switched off so turned it on, praying i'd set it to silent. Luckily i had (not entirely sure my phone's welcome song 'Maniac' from Flash Dance would've been a good look at this point) and still pretending to have left eye contact issues, i waited for what seemed like an eternity before it came on.Finally and inevitably it did and i quickly got into my draft message folder and deleted the stupidest thing i've ever done. Or the most important thing i've ever forgotten to do.

Just as it had disappeared into the world of technology, one of the guys came over and saw that my hand was in my bag and on my phone. I was quite harshly informed that it was not permitted for me to use my mobile, to which i played the innocent and told him sorry, i just thought i'd call my friend to let her know i was running late. He seemed to buy it but took my bag away and placed it well out of reach.

I'd actually only been in the waiting room for about two minutes at this point but waited for a further 25 (all the while being questioned at random intervals by various different officials) before another woman arrived, pushing my luggage on a trolley. I was escorted, flanked by two guards with another behind me, through passport control and into the baggage claim hall where they took me to a room in the far left corner.
Inside the room were a further six people. There was now a total of ten people checking up on me. I know i can be troublesome but even this seems a little excessive. Here my baggage was first x-rayed and then meticulously unpacked and swabbed whilst i was taken to a smaller room and given a full body search.

They brought me back to the larger room and proceeded to question me for approximately half an hour. This feels like a million years when you're lying. Obviously unsatisfied with my answers or something about me, I was asked if i was wearing underwear (?). This is no time for fun i thought but no, i wasn't. (i knew this would get me into trouble one day). I was made to select a pair from my unpacked belongings in front of several men and go put them on under my jeans in the toilet. Slightly wary, as this could only mean one thing, i walked to the small room again. This time i was swabbed from head to toe and given a fully body strip search.

Eventually it was over and i was ushered back into the larger room and supervised by seven people whilst i repacked my bags. It'd been nearly three hours since i'd first approached the passport control booth. They then let me through into Israel. But this time, i don't think i'll be forgetting how it felt in a hurry.