Entering Israel with no itinerary, no hotel reservation, and only a bizarre story about following a star in the sky guarantees an immediate collision with high-level security. Yet, absolute conviction can disarm even the strictest interrogations, opening the door to a miraculous nocturnal drive.
Despite the early hour of the morning, Ben Gurion Airport was bustling with people, and long queues had already formed at the immigration control booths. Fortunately, the flow of passengers was moving fast, so it did not take much time for my turn to come.
I stepped forward and handed my Philippine passport to a young-looking woman in uniform. She began asking me standard questions while scrutinizing my documents. Suddenly, her facial expression changed completely. She signaled to someone, and a large man in a different uniform—likely airport police or severe security—arrived to lead me away from the general line to a separate, isolated room. I realized instantly that I was not considered an ordinary tourist, and given my profile, it was entirely understandable.
When she asked where I was staying in Israel, I answered honestly that I did not know yet. When asked if I knew anyone at all in Israel, I said no, nobody. When asked what the precise purpose of my visit was, I told her plainly that I was there to fast and to pray.
And when she finally asked where exactly I intended to go from the airport, I told her I intended to go to the exact physical location of the star I had been watching from the window of my plane.
Inside the secondary room, several staff members stared at their computer screens as they continued to ask me rapid-fire questions and thoroughly search my belongings. Because I fundamentally knew I had absolutely nothing to hide or to worry about, I underwent the intense interrogation in a state of total, relaxed calm. The conviction I had gained from seeing the star just moments prior anchored me completely.
At one point, I was even able to convince some of the interrogating officers to literally go outside and see the star illuminating the sky for themselves. To my astonishment, they actually came back into the room smiling, answering in the affirmative when I asked them if they had seen it.
After a while, I was led back to the main immigration control booth. My passport was stamped with a visa, but it had been specifically amended before being returned to me. The standard three-month fixed tourist visa print on the official stamp had been deliberately crossed out with ink. In its place, a handwritten restriction of only exactly one month was given to me.
The massive time difference between Japan and Israel made it possible for me to technically experience October 28th twice. After the long, turbulent journey on the plane and the extensive waiting time during the airport interrogation, it was still the morning of October 28th when I was finally released into Tel Aviv.
Because I did not have any heavy checked luggage, I could immediately leave the arrivals hall to find transportation outside. I asked a security officer where the taxi pool was located and proceeded in the direction he instructed. There was a long line of white taxi cars idling on the left side of the road, just outside the building next to the exit doors I had used.
I walked purposely toward the very first vehicle in the line. As I got closer, I noticed two men speaking Japanese walking right behind me. Still trying to figure out exactly how to explain to a driver where I wanted to go, I slowed down and let the two men walk ahead of me. However, when we reached the taxi, the driver ignored the two men, opened his door, looked directly at me, and asked, "Taxi?"
Taking it as a sign, I got in his car. I pulled my few belongings onto the seat beside me instead of using the trunk he offered. As we pulled away from the curb, I saw the two Japanese men turning to talk to the driver of the second taxi in the queue.
We were heading toward the main exit of the airport complex when the driver, speaking in very clear English, finally asked where he should take me. Because he sounded friendly and approachable, I felt it wouldn't be as difficult to say the strange words aloud. I told him that when we got to a place where we could have a full, unobstructed view of the dark sky, he was going to see a very big star. I wanted him to drive me exactly to where it was hovering. Then I added that if there was actually nothing there, I wanted him to take me to Jerusalem.
Understandably, the driver burst out laughing. He looked at me through the rearview mirror, clearly sizing up my sanity. He chuckled and said, "It’s going to be an interesting trip."
But a few moments later, when we cleared the immediate lights of the airport and he saw the massive star for himself hanging heavily on the left side of the direction we were heading, his tone became entirely serious. He squinted at the sky and told me bluntly that the star was located directly on a path toward Jerusalem. Hearing that, I became overwhelmingly excited. What could possibly be a better coincidence than having the two impossible places you wanted to go to occupying the exact same celestial location?
Because the driver could speak English so well, we were able to converse deeply about a wide variety of things during the dark journey. I learned that it was incredibly lucky I had taken his specific taxi when he called me over, because the other drivers in the queue could barely speak any English at all. He admitted he originally thought I was traveling with the two Japanese men and that we were all going to share the fare.
When I heard that his name was *Rami*, I smiled and told him I would never forget it. It was almost exactly the name of my younger brother back in the Philippines; the only difference was the letter *R* at the end of Ramir’s name.
I shared elements of my story with him. I told him how my partner in Japan and I had almost separated precisely because of this sudden trip, and I explained my vow to undertake a 21-day Daniel fast, consuming only water during my stay in Israel. Hearing this, Rami mentioned he knew of a natural spring along our route where locals gathered drinking water. He kindly offered to give me a container he kept in the trunk so I could use it. As we drove, he tried to recall the exact location of the spring, while I simply sat back and enjoyed the stunning view of the bright moon and the massive star hanging over the desert landscape as we talked.
We had been driving for quite a while when a sudden panic hit me: I remembered to ask Rami if he would accept Japanese yen. I feared the relatively small amount of shekels I possessed might not cover this long intercity drive. When he asked me exactly how many shekels I had on me, I remembered that the woman at the money changer in Milan had only properly converted the equivalent of my first 10,000 yen bill, despite my handing her 20,000. I explained the stressful situation to Rami, but we both knew there was absolutely nothing to be done about it now in the dark of the Israeli desert.
Because large portions of the highway were unlit and Rami was still unsure where the natural spring was actually located, we decided it was simpler to just stop and buy some commercial water somewhere along the way. Fortunately, we soon spotted a small store that seemed to have just opened on the right side of the road. I hopped out of the taxi carrying only my wallet and went inside.
I noticed Several bottles of water stacked haphazardly in a pile of cardboard boxes just outside the main door, so I grabbed one and brought it to the sleepy clerk to pay. The brand on the label was called "sssss." This was likely 'San Benedetto' or a similarly branded European import with prominent S typography. I immediately opened the bottle and drank deeply from it, finally relieving the severe thirst that had built up since my vow on the plane leaving Milan.
Not too long after our water stop, Rami suddenly slowed the vehicle down along the side of the dark road and pulled the brake.
"We’re here," he announced quietly.
"Where are we?" I asked, looking out the window into the gloom.
"This is Jerusalem," he replied.
"Where is the star?" I demanded.
"It’s right above us."
I scrambled out of the taxi to look up. Standing directly in front of us was a towering, ancient stone wall, dominating the landscape. The massive star was hovering perfectly, brilliantly, directly above its battlements. I asked Rami what the name of this specific, imposing place was.
He looked at the wall, then up at the star, and told me it was the Old City of Jerusalem. He then quietly admitted that what he had just witnessed on this strange drive from Tel Aviv was the first genuine miracle he had ever seen in his life.
Overwhelmed, I told him I wanted to go inside the ancient walls right then and there. Rami immediately rejected the idea, warning me it was absolutely not safe to wander in there at this hour of the damp morning. He insisted I wait until the sun came up and it became fully bright. However, recognizing my determination, he volunteered to physically show me the way to the entrance gate on foot before he dropped me off to wait in front of a hotel situated somewhere safer outside the walls.
When it came time to settle the fare, the total charge was exactly 286 shekels. I breathed a profound sigh of relief—the 320 shekels I had miraculously received from the confused exchange in Milan for my 10,000 yen bill was just barely enough to cover the long journey. Because I was completely unfamiliar with reading Israeli currency, I simply handed Rami my open wallet and trusted him to take the correct amount from it.
As he pulled away, leaving me alone in the predawn shadow of the Old City, I knew I could never thank him enough for his impossible kindness.
The arrival proves that absolute conviction bends reality. A highly suspicious profile at Ben Gurion Airport transforms into mild amusement when she insists officers look at the sky. A potentially disastrous currency shortage perfectly covers an intercity taxi fare, driven serendipitously by a man with the same name as her brother. Ending the chapter at the imposing, dark walls of the Old City leaves her standing on the threshold of biblical history, guided entirely by a single star.