"Nowhere"

I'm sure everyone has those moments, you think your life is flying high, you've got it all; Friends, family, great apartment.. happiness- right? I found myself on a bus Friday morning heading somewhere. I wasn't sure where, but bus 277 was my mode of transport. I arrived at the bus station not even a full minute before the bus arrives, out of breathe, laughing with one of my roommates that neither of us has a penny to buy our bus ticket because we just spent our last money on bagels- clearly the more important situation at hand. We meet up with two of our more responsible friends who are waiting at the stop, and thank g-d, they had enough money to compensate for our un-organized hectic morning. I push into the crowd (the concept of "lines" has yet to make its way to Israel), and nudge around to pay for a seat. I step onto the bus. The front is filled with black and brown fur hatted men, clothed in long, black, silk coats. The back is a mix of "regular" looking Israeli's, and religious women. My roommate and I pushed through to get some seats and threw our things down for our two friends who were dealing with the driver to pay, for themselves.. and us. After we sit down, we look around to realize the bus might have been a "Mehadrin Bus".. meaning men are to sit in the front and women in the back.. but it was too late at this point, which is when we all awkwardly sunk into our seats a bit, laughed about it, and put in the headphones to kick back and enjoy the beautiful scenery that occurs on any bus travel through Israel. We drive about an hour or so, still not even sure which direction we were driving, or going. Our stop comes, and we exit the bus.. we are in the middle of nowhere. We sit on the side of the road, our friend calls up this family, and we chill on the side of this highway for a while and enjoy the sun. After about 30 to 40 minutes, a dark man, beard, and yarmulke pulls up in a small, navy blue, 89' sudan. He jumps out of the car, huge smile on his face, and grabs our bags, opens his car doors, and greets us. We get in the car, and drives about five minutes down to the road where we arrive at the entrance of Moshav Bereqet.
[mo·shav:Etymology: Modern Hebrew mōshābh, from Hebrew, dwelling: a cooperative settlement of small individual farms in Israel] Was I still in Israel? What was this place! Why would people choose to live in the middle of nowhere? It was literally as if I had taken a time machine. We pulled into the pathway and parked next to a tractor and a giant, run down, tireless van. There was a small house next to us, and a door to what seemed to be a barn or garage. As soon as we got out of the car, the door swung open, and there stood a dark, thin, smiling wife. She greeted my friends and I over joyously and took us to the room where we would all be sleeping. Traditional yeminite music was playing quietly in the room, and the house was filled with aromatic smells. There was nothing in the house. They had no "stuff", nothing on the walls, the simplest of furniture, and it was immaculately clean. My friends and I wandered around the moshav for a bit, came home, helped Chaya (the hostess) set up the table for shabbos. The couple was young, married a few years, and yemenite. I've never met more genuine people. The wife didn't speak a word of English, and the husband Shneur might have known a a couple dozen words, but didn't like to use them. We sat at their table, as he told us stories of their crazy family history, and great grandparents who all lived past the ages of 110. They were happy, genuinely happy. But they had nothing, they lived nowhere. The next day, same deal, but lunch. Multiple courses, crazy stories, happy people. The husband told us that his wife woke up at 4:30am Friday morning to prepare for the guests, and as they served us tea after each meal they apologized for not having a fancy box of teas they once saw at a house they were guests at. He told us that each time they have guests, they try to add something new, and always make everything as nice as possible. If only they knew. They had everything. They lived in the center of the universe. The whole Moshav is comprised of about four families. Grandparents next door, uncles, sisters, cousins, all around the corner. Small, quiet, peaceful streets. Love and community. Happiness.
On our walk around Friday afternoon we passed goats, cows, and chicken coups in yards. We found out that they raised almost all of their own meats. The grandfather of the husband lived in front of them in the cute little house we had first parked next to when we arrived. At ninety-something, he personally shechted their chickens. [Schect: Jewish ritual way to slaughter animals in a Kosher way] We found out that the smoke we saw Friday afternoon was the family fire they had to smoke and cook the chicken they all served at their respective homes that night for dinner. No, these people didn't live nowhere, and they didn't have nothing, they had it all. I left thinking, maybe I didn't have "it all", rarely do we find anyone who has it all. Rarely do I find myself just happy with nothing, because its always on to the next thing. If only we could all be so fortunate to feel the real happiness that this couple had, receive as much joy giving as we do receiving, and live so peacefully in the middle of nowhere, under the radar of all of the everywhere, secretly harboring the realest happiness there is to have.

"We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves"

For the past 21 years of my life, there's been a steady itinerary of events. From pre-school to middle school, high school, ACTs and SATs, College and internships, up until the moment I walked across that stage and received a college diploma. Up until that point my life had simply been a crazy long trip-tik taking me along to a destination. Through the journey there were times I would stray off the path to stop at a Grandpa's cheese barn, or stop to find a place called "make-believe land" that was advertised.. or maybe even to see the worlds largest candle. But in the end, I was always back, or making my way towards the final destination on the map. I can pretty vividly remember thoughts racing through my mind this past March, as I sat, watching different respectable people address me, the class of 2008. Their mouths moving, sitting in an uncomfortable chair surrounded by over 20,000 other people, in the center of the focus, in a goofy robe and hat and tassel, just thinking... not hearing a thing, what next? The map ended. Here I am, final destination... a giant, open world. I literally had the whole word at my fingertips, what was my next move? Where was I going to go? It’s like I was a caged mouse, I finally figured out the stupid maze that was set up for me, and in the end... set free. Or maybe like the ending of the Truman show.. (hope that didn't ruin it for anyone, but I think its an acceptable amount of time since its been out to ruin the ending.) In any event, here I am. I have found myself in Jerusalem, Israel. I arrived in August, I spent a few weeks really enjoying being back, and then in September I began classes at Mayanot, a learning center based in Katamon, right outside the German Colony. I take classes there Sunday through Thursday. (Sundays as Mondays may be the sole reason as to why I could never actually live here permanently). I'm enrolled in full time classes until the end of this month, Becca is coming, then my mom comes, and then I begin working (and hopefully also still some time to take classes). So I suppose what I decided to do with my open world, was to take some time to myself, take a backroad -before I got back on the grander, more traveled highway of life and buckled myself down to a job of any kind. We all know the J word is like screeching nails on a chalkboard to me. (side note: will our children know what that expression even means?) The classes at Mayanot are for the most part, awesome. I wake up at 6:30am daily (it hurts a little) and begin the day learning Chassidut.
[Ha•si'dut: Jewish mystic teachings founded in the 18th century] Each day continues from 9:30-11:30, with another two, two-hour classes. A break, and then another class or two. Included in the classes is Ulpan, Hebrew is getting better. The full time, just for fun learning will soon end, and I’ll start my treck back to the highway to work, and make some progress on the reality of things.

Peace & Love

(Both photos here were taken in the garden at Mayanot this fall when I first arrived.)

So, I think I’ve been living in Jerusalem for about four months now. . I realize I have yet to send an e-mail, but hey- better late than never, right? I suppose I'll start from the beginning. The move went well, it probably couldn't have gone better really. We arrived at about 5am on the 21st of August- so nervous to actually see our apartment, where it was actually located, and what it would be like. I was shocked at how nice it actually was, even nicer than all the online pictures-possibly a first. The apartment manager is an American who made Aliyah a few years ago, he’s wonderful to deal with, and they had re-done all the floors and parts of the apartment that weren't even mentioned in the ads, or e-mails- unexpected. The location is pretty much in the center of everything we could possibly want. Its about 8 minutes walking to Emek Refaim (a real nice street/neighborhood filled with shops, places to eat, salons, grocery stores, galleries, etc.) 15 minutes walking to the Old city, and about a 15 minute walk to downtown Jerusalem/Ben Yehuda. The apartment is close to a few major hotels, so sometimes if we needed things the first few weeks, we shadily called their front desks and asked questions for bus lines as if we were staying there, and it worked out great. The room situation is a bit silly. My one flatmate Gina has the one real room, which is pretty huge, and the other, Marcy has a little cubicle type room, and I live on what used to be the porch that was closed-in to be a room. It has pluses and downsides. Its kind of cool because one whole wall is windows from like 2ft up and to the ceiling, so if I slide them open its like a deck, but its also a bit annoying because… I live on a deck. Since there’s no real wall, I can hear EVERYTHING outside on the streets, loud Israelis, full arguments and conversations (in essence, also arguments), garbage men, construction drilling, and nearest to my heart, my lovely upstairs neighbor Burt… a golden retriever who I have formed a heated love/hate relationship with. That basically sums up the move in… in the end, we love the place and I have become immune to the noise outside my porch window.

Stay tuned.

Out of the dark... into the light

Two summers ago I set up a blog page to begin documenting my journeys for both myself, and as a replacement to sending the e-mails, which never get sent. Soon after setting up the account, I lost my password and never could sign in again, quickly giving up on the idea of blogging. Hopefully this time around i'll remember my password and begin letting everyone I miss in on the life i've been living over here.