On the complications of losing a bag while travelling to Palestine

So, I arrived safe and mostly sound, dear readers. It's f%&king freezing here! I forgot about no-heat apartments in the Middle East. When will they start putting heat in these damn buildings!! I am writing this under two blankets, regretfully poking my arms out and letting cold drafts in. Someone should have brought a snuggie.

In any case, had a moment of inner hilarity today while declaring my lost bag at the 'lost bag' counter at Tel Aviv airport. For those of you who don't know, a quick primer that will give the context on why this story is so funny:

'Israelestine' (the land of Israel and Palestine together, my term) is divided into three zones: Zone A, Israeli controlled (think 'Israel proper', Bostonians), Zone B, which is both Israel and Palestinian Authority-controlled, and Zone C, PA controlled only. Ramallah is in Zone C. Israeli authorities cannot enter Zone C (at least, aren't supposed to), and Israelis in general treat Zone C with a mixture of fear and disdain.

Thus, when trying to get through border control at the airport, it is unwritten law amongst those of us actually going to Palestine that you don't mention that fact if you want to save yourself hours of trouble, as well as potentially not being let into the country. My story is generally that my Jewish boyfriend's family really wants me to see Israel and their Jewish heritage, so I took it upon myself to visit. I haven't had any problems yet with that. In fact, generally the border control people seem really pleased with my fictional love life.

While regalling the agents with this take I am usually sweating bullets, because I HATE lying, especially when the reason for it seems so absurd, and personally just am over getting worked up about the whole Occupation Situation. It's the sheer inconvenience of it all that bothers me the most at this point. Forget justice, I just can't be bothered to sit for four hours at a checkpoint. Angry Birds is amusing for only so long, people.

Ok so, given that I had just told the lady at border control that I was on Boyfriend Heritage-palooza, the whole lost bag situation gets tricky.

The conversation as best I can remember it:

Me: Hi, I lost my bag on the Alitalia flight.

Lady: Ok, where will you be for the next 24 hours, and where will you stay during your trip?

Me: [pause]...um, Jerusalem? (remember, if I tell her Ramallah the ruse is up and I am tossed into a little room for the foreseeable future. Also, the Israeli baggage company won't even deliver to Ramallah, so why bother?)

Lady: Do you have an address or a hotel or Israeli number?

Me: [pause again]...I think it's best to just email me. I'll be travelling around a lot.

See, now due to the sheer damn inconvenience of it all, I need to now drag myself through endless checkpoints to get to Jerusalem to be at a random hotel I pick at a designated time THEY pick to pick up my incredibly, horribly heavy bag and drag it back through the same checkpoints, when the whole damn point was a taxi was going to take it directly to my door. That's why I was ok making it so heavy in the first place!

It weighs over 80 pounds. I don't think I can carry it. I'm shaking my fist at you for the first but not last time, Conflictistan. I can feel the back pain already.