For whatever reason we were almost fleeing this place, this city of Sydney with the most beautiful harbour in the world, the giant steel bridge spanning the deep body of water, joining two sections of land, dividing north from east, Pacific Ocean always there - sometimes a deep petrol-blue, sometimes a dull, opaque slate grey, sometimes splattered with white choppy waves. Always reflecting the mood and weather of the southern skies, no longer protected by the ozone layer, the most dangerous of skies. Light so intense and strong that I could never travel in the day-time without wearing dark glasses. Farewelling the city with the nun-like head-dressed buildings nestling in a steady floating mass upon the ocean, along the shore of that exquisite bay. The buildings of the famed Sydney Opera House were meant to look like the masts of Tall Ships, but something went awry and they never managed to look like more than broken sea-shells or shattered glass left strewn after a New-Year’s Eve Celebration. Nevertheless the buildings became International Heritage. Those famous gleaming domes had actually become quite familiar to me and mine, not only from the outside or as members of an audience, but many times some of us had played music on that stage of the enormous concert-hall, never able to fill the cavernous interior with sound, always waiting for the music to travel back to our expectant ears. How familiar the bowels of this famous Opera House had become to our family. We came to know the ins and outs of it, the ups and downs, the old, padded lifts, the abominable ‘Green Room’ with its stained upholstered lounges and stale stink of old frying oil and ubiquitous hamburgers, chips and bacon. We always entered the Opera House via the Backstage, laughing with the in-house staff, enjoying their gay, upfront humour, getting to know them all, to spar with them verbally and listen to their tales of pains and sorrows as they did ours.
The El-Al flight was an hour early. We disembarked quickly, excited and afraid at the same time. We had not seen my brothers for over nine years. The airport staff was incredibly friendly and helpful ensuring that I as a Person with a Disability should be treated with the utmost respect, ease and expediency. What a difference from the experiences which we had recently had in Bangkok! Someone took our passports from us and had them stamped before any of the other passengers had theirs done. We were moved through passport-control and customs quickly. It almost seemed as if the Israelis were glad to see us HOME again! Even with our ten large suitcases and all our musical instruments we were ushered through without the blink of an eye or a raised eyebrow. It would appear that we could have brought in whatever we wanted to the country and no-one would have cared. It was as if they were all awaiting our return. Suddenly we were out in the main hall of the International Ben-Gurion Airport and four figures stood waiting for us. Even now the memory brings tears to my eyes. There were my parents whom we had seen just over a year ago. My stoic father was wiping his eyes unashamedly and my two brothers who are both older than me were weeping undisguised tears of joy. Silent hugs and kisses were held for endless moments. My daughters had grown so much since they had last seen their uncles and grandparents in Israel. They must have seemed to be like giant strangers. We had all been through so much and now we were back together again. The arguments and disagreements and moments of longing were over and only NOW had any meaning. Those of us who had spent so many long hours journeying from the place almost furthest away from here felt that we must have held the stink of all the kilometers and smoke and pollution and lavatories of the world and yet the family all hugged us, as if never to be parted again, as if we smelled of ‘all the perfumes of Arabia’!
Throughout that day at my parents’ home, various members of the family of whom we had only heard and seen in photographs and their new babies came to visit us. It was a loving, warm, bewildering time.
It lasted for no more than a week or so.