Pray like herrings in a barrel

It’s 3:30 a.m., I’m in the bus between Tel Aviv and Tiberias, and I really need to share with you what crazy things an air hostess has to go through while bringing a team of female cyclists to their training camp location.

The waiting area at Luik airport was packed. It had snowed so heavily you would think the windows were made out of milk glass, and we were already delayed more than an hour. We female cyclists were part of the cause, with our loads of luggage – suitcases full of training clothes, bikes, and massage tables. The bearded men dressed in black, with the black high hats and the long curls alongside their ears were also responsible, for they had to have their hats checked for hidden bombs one by one before they could pass through customs.

When we had finally boarded, the start ramp appeared to be…

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