My Time in Israel

I left for Israel not knowing what was in store. I didn’t know the trip would change how I viewed the world. I didn’t know the trip would change how I viewed the field of journalism. I didn’t know the trip would change how I viewed strangers, for better and for worse.

            I left for Israel on June 6^th from Raleigh, North Carolina. I left with a group of UNC students as part of a media and journalism class. The students going on the trip specialized in print, broadcast, photography and radio, which made the coverage of the trip that much more exciting. We spent a lot of the travel day getting to know each other before we got to Israel. We arrived in Tel Aviv on June 7^th and headed to the small village of Huqoq in the Galilee Region.

            I left for Israel thinking I would have an easy task. We were going to cover a group of UNC students who were excavating a buried fifth-century synagogue. The project was led by UNC professor Jodi Magness, a titan of the archaeology industry who had been working at the site since 2011. She and the crew at the dig site knew we were coming and knew what we were there to do, so I thought they would be eager to take part in our stories. I thought the job would be easy.

            I left for Israel knowing I would have to work hard. I was assigned seven stories before we arrived in Israel on different people who contributed to the dig in varying ways. These stories would require a lot of prior research and observations at the dig site itself. I was prepared for the struggle that comes with putting together broadcast pieces; I had done it all before and this was just another set of stories. Boy, was I wrong.

            I left for Israel ignorant to the fact that something could go wrong. In my journalistic career, I had never faced any real adversity. Every project I had done had gone pretty smoothly, so I didn’t imagine anything would go wrong on this already-coordinated project. So, when in response to the question “What can we film here?” we were told “Nothing,”  I panicked. We had just come halfway across the world, and now we couldn’t film anything? What was the point of the trip then?

            I left for Israel without a back-up plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. These stories were supposed to come easily. We would waltz in, get our interviews filmed, get all of the footage we could ever imagine and leave to do our part. Now we were forced to scramble, but that’s the name of the game. The group’s insistence that we not film half of the dig site was an obstacle, but journalists are meant to face obstacles.

            I left for Israel knowing three people. I knew three of the broadcast students from Sports Xtra at school. The rest were complete strangers, but we were all bonded over the love for journalism. So when faced with a difficult situation, we joined together to figure out the best way to tell the stories of the people who didn’t want their stories told. Whether print, video or radio, we worked together to make sure we got the most out of the trip.

            I left for Israel expecting the best out of people. I’ve always been the type of person to think people are generally good. So when, in response to saying good morning to a group of excavators I was met with a series of glares and eyerolls, as well as one person saying, “Well, if it was a good morning, it isn’t anymore,” I was shocked and disappointed. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that we were not wanted there so badly. It didn’t feel rational – we were there to do a job just like everyone at the dig site. We were there to make them look good!

I left for Israel as someone who would have shut down when faced with some sort of confrontation. As the relationship between my group and the dig participants soured, I realized more and more how ineffective hostility would be towards our cause. I quickly understood I needed get the stories finished no matter what everyone thought of me. And that’s exactly what I did, despite the ban on footage, sour looks and lack of sleep.

           I left for Israel not thinking I would make any lifelong friends on this trip. I’m happy to say I was wrong. The strangers who I sat with outside Gate C10 in Raleigh-Durham International Airport are now people I know will be my friends for life. No matter where we all go, I know I can count on each one of them and they can count on me. Through talking late at night at the kibbutz, rallying to help a sick member of our team or spending an exceedingly long time in Carroll Hall on any given Friday, I gained a set of friends unlike any group I have ever been a part of.

            I left Israel a changed man. My whole Israel experience made me realize journalism isn’t always easy. And that’s what makes me love it. The feeling of finishing a story, knowing I went through all kinds of adversity to get that story, is one I won’t forget for a long time. I have a new appreciation for the struggle and the beauty behind it. And most importantly, I learned how important friends are in life. Without my classmates, I wouldn’t have had the strength to do what I needed to. They made the bad days good and the good days better.

            I left Israel ready for any challenges that are in store. And that won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.