Holiday Leftovers

This has been quite a couple weeks, so this will be quite an entry. It began when, on a hike in the middle of the Golan, I ran (almost head-on) into TJ, my best friend from high school. (He was on a Birthright trip, unbeknownst to me.) I flew into his arms, since he was the first person I had seen from home in months and I longed very much to see someone with whom I shared a common history. Soon after, my group moved to Jerusalem for the last leg of the 3-week hiking/volunteering program. I had the good fortune of running into Nate Marcus in the Livnot center, which was another unexpected treat. The nature of the program was overall very introspective and meditative, which was a good and a bad thing for me. I appreciated gaining new angles on spiritual topics and getting to sit back and reflect, but as someone who already thinks too much, the exercises sometimes left me inexplicably sad. Every new thought seems to breed a new philosophy, and I have so many by now that they all run into each other and rarely actually reflect what's really there.

I was all set to come stay in my new house in Qiryat Gat for a week of solitary boredom, when I thought, "Damnit Jackie, when did you become so submissive? Stop sulking, get off your ass, and go have an adventure." So I packed up a backpack, headed to the bus station, and caught the last bus to Nazareth.

Actually, getting there was an adventure in itself. Contrary to what the website had told me, the last bus to Nazareth from Jerusalem had already gone. After arguing with a number of people, I learned that if I caught the next bus to Tel Aviv, I'd have a chance of making the last bus from there to Nazareth. I didn't have a back-up plan, but I figured I wouldn't die if I didn't make it, so I went anyway. I just made it, but realized towards the end of the journey that I didn't actually know where I was going. I had been told the hostel was in the middle of an Arab shuk, but when I asked the driver to drop me off at the shuk, he dropped me at an empty stall in the middle of the highway. It seemed the only thing to do from there was walk, so I followed the highway until I could see buildings on a hill and fireworks in the distance. (It was Christmas eve!) I will admit walking through Arab alleyways in the middle of the night does, despite my openmindedness, instill me with a healthy amount of fear. Thankfully, these were dispelled once I reached the hostel, which was set in the ruins of a gorgeous Ottoman mansion. I had my own room with a Narnia-esque wardrobe and a ceiling twice as high as normal, and went to bed hearing fireworks inside and out. The next morning, I met some of the other guests, and together we took a tour of the Old City. My future companions were to be a Brazilian, a French guy, four Israelis, and an American who had been living in Lebanon for the past year and a half. We took to each other instantly, and the new impromptu society proved to be refreshing. Over those two days, I rediscovered an idea that seems to me infallible. Traveling by yourself brings about two great treasures: An acute awareness of small things and kindness in places you never expected to find it. It was a holiday polished by beautiful walks, intent conversations, and intoxicating spice markets.

The evening before I left, I had no idea where I was going. The following morning, one of the Israelis I met the previous day said they were driving south and invited me along. I agreed, took 5 minutes to get dressed and pack, and was out the door. In the car on the way down, I asked the guy who invited me, Evia, if he had ever been to the United States. He said he had been there once. "Just to travel?" I asked. "No, my uncle plays the violin and he invited me to come watch him play." "Sweet," I replied, "What's his name?" "Itzhak Perlman." I nearly died.

Once in Tel Aviv, I sauntered over to the beach and sat until sunset enjoying the warm sky and actively observing the mannerisms of others: I saw a group of American teenage girls trying to shallowly impress some Israeli guys, a gay couple forging a romantic aura by laying their hands in the seawater as the sun set, and a lady with a towel around her waist urinating on the sand thinking no one could tell. My friend Yann agreed to host me at a minute's notice, so the day was rounded with good French company and a comfy repose. Left again directionless the next day, I decided to sit and let providence take control. Indeed, it did. I had not been on my bench for fifteen minutes before my cousin Elizabeth, only just arrived, happened to pass with her Birthright group. The encounter yielded a delicious lunch and some inspired ponderings on the apparent reliability of chance. These were again affirmed when, a few hours later, I ran into yet another friend on the street and got in some good coffee and riddling before the ride to Jerusalem.

The rest of the vacation proceeded amicably. I toured Ein Karem (the birthplace of John the Baptist) with my 8th grade penpal, ate with Evia's family on their Moshav (sort of like an isolated agricultural community), and finally began to have some days of mental peace. I spent a night with Eli Berman, and we consoled one another about the crazy mindfuck that happens the year after college when you have to redefine yourself and feel isolated and start to question things you had taken for granted. For New Years, I attended a fancy Jerusalem event with my friend Jon from back home. He was there on a mission trip with his family and about 70 other people from the North Shore, so it was a familiar and fun evening that reminded me graciously of American cultural differences. The party eerily resembled a Bar Mitzvah, complete with a juggling room, open bar, and pre-teens booty dancing with their dads. Yum.

Which brings me to where I am now. I just officially moved into my house in Qiryat Gat, a periphery town where I will be volunteering for the next three months. I'm excited about the nice accomodations and volunteer options, and am nervous about living in a town with one restaurant and no nightlife. Still, I am happy to report that my mind is further at ease now than it has been for a time. I just had a most cherished chat with Shary-lou, who is a greater comfort than she knows. I'm confident that little spurts of magnificence can be found most anywhere if I only allow myself to seek them out. I wish the same to each of you this week. Find time to crack the routine, go get lost, and listen as deliberately as you can. You might surprise yourself.