It has only been a week since this adventure started, but it feels like it has been a month.
First off, it is still unbelievable to me that I am here. Though I have been planning this trip for months, I am still in awe of simply being here. This country means so much to me. I feel so blessed and fortunate to be able to be here.
A lot of people think coming here was simple. People think it's like running away from real life to take a break from reality. Though this opportunity is something which I am obviously enjoying, I wouldn't say it's easy. If anything, it's extremely challenging.
For starters, everything here is on a much smaller scale and much less "comfortable." The comforts I enjoy in the US are definitely not a given here. I live in a dorm (though with awesome people), have to share a bathroom and room. I have to use a communal laundry machine, which honestly is sort of gross (especially the one here, thanks to some uncleanly people). Even my bed. The mattress (to put it nicely) sucks. I can't comfortably sit on it like I do at home. I have to keep my toiletries and makeup in my room. My closet space is minimal. I have to take public transportation everywhere, which makes me feel like an old Russian grandmother in Brooklyn. People can be rude, overcharge you because you don't know the prices anyway. You get shoved by people all day because they don't have a word for "excuse me." Everythign here is extremely expensive, and there are few options when tryign to make purchases (in the US we have options galore). Whereas here we have bugs galore. Bugs in our rooms, bathrooms, kitchen area (which I wouldn't dare to use because it's just as bad as the laundry room.
The list goes on and on.
But I'm more afraid of leaving than I am of staying. And I have 6 months here (minimum- I'll probably end up staying 9), yet I fear the day I will have to leave.
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| At the Western Wall right before Yom Kippur |
I spent the day in the Old City of Jerusalem. Every year I watch the same video of crowds of people standing by the Western Wall. It’s the place to be. This year, not only did I get to see it live, but I got to be a part of it. If I were alone, with no one around me- I think I would have cried. I hate crying, and I would have cried like a baby. The scene, the people, the passion, the reality of it all... it's so personal and spiritual and heart warming.
On our way back to campus from the Old City, I quietly sat and looked out the bus window. For 25 hours, the country sat still. Even the air space was closed. Roads were empty. Highways were silent. And I felt anxious. Peaceful and enlightened, but anxious as well.
Because of this fear of having to leave, of not being able to grasp all of it. This fear of letting go of it all, of not getting to see this every day.
There is just something about being here. Today I think I came to find the words that sum it up.
Community. Belonging. Family. Together. History.
This state, this country... it's part of our definition as a people. As a people with the longest history.
And the price that we have had to pay for it.
Just last week, right before Yom Kippur- a man by the name of Ari Fuld was murdered. He was murdered by a Palestinian teenager. He was murdered because he was a Jew. People will say what they want about Israel, what it is, it's creation, it's current state. At the end of the day, the murder here is for one reason and one reason only: Anti-Semitism.
Here we are getting murdered for owning less than 1% of the Middle East. Here we are getting murdered in a land that we payed for, fought for, built up. Here we are getting killed for creating a home because we were kicked out of all of our previous homes (including this one, which actually was our first home- I know, doesn't make any sense). Here we are getting killed for not allowing ourselves to be killed off.
It's been an emotional time for me personally (being here, getting adjusted), but also for us on a national level. Our people are mourning yet another stolen soul, yet another soul removed from us. Another piece of our hearts are broken off.
A whole community, a whole nation come together to remember the impact this man had on our people.
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Of course this journey starts off with a familiar face, meeting someone you know through other people you know- it's just the way it always works out. You go your separate ways at the airport once you make it into the country but you know every direction here is really the same direction nontheless. All one and the same spirit, yet the differences will make you question how this place exists all in one piece as it is.
A couple of natives casually scream at each other while I hold back my laughs. They ask you where you're going in a language you don't completely know, yet you somehow answer quickly enough not to feel stupid. Some people mumble something to you and you know that's your cue to get out of their way.
We ride through the Middle Eastern desert, which doesn't look so much like a desert. It's the land of milk and honey. We get there by half a miracle, for the drivers here aren't really drivers- they're just making up the rules as they go. Drive in the middle of 2 lanes? Sure. Park on the sidewalk? No problem. Almost get into a three-vehicle collision (bus, car, and motorcycle- true story)? Why not?
This ain't Jersey.
Go to the open market to get some fresh food. Which by the way sometimes comes with little bugs too. Like I said- bugs galore.
Still waiting to get shoved by an old lady wearing a head scarf. Happens every time I’m here and it always throws me off. This time I won't be confused. It'll be more like a, "you can't surprise me because I've been looking forward to this."
It's going to happen, I promise. And when it does, I'll be ecstatic because it's my official welcome 🙂
I'll be prepared to live the hectic New York City life when I get back.
Heck, I'll be more than ready.
