“My heart is in the East but I am at the ends of the West”

“My heart is in the East but I am at the ends of the West”
לבי במזרח ואנוכי בסוף מערב, a quote by the great Rabbi Yehuda Halevi.

It’s taken me a few days to write this entry and it will probably be my last one in regards to my journey through Israel and the West Bank. This summer was something special. It was the toughest one of my life. It was the most amazing. It was insightful. It was enchanting. It was beautiful. And it was emotionally draining. I can’t even describe how many times I cried myself to sleep at night or how many times I woke up at the crack of dawn and listened to the call to prayer from my open window. I can’t explain how much the relationships I developed here have changed my life or how much I love the people I spent this summer with.

When I first started writing this blog, I found it to be tedious, my entries were either too honest or not honest enough. Some entries were boring and written just because I felt like I had to write something. One day everything just fell into place for me, emotionally and spiritually. I realized a lot about myself and what I needed to do in order to leave Jerusalem and be truly fulfilled. Of course I came here to do an internship, I don’t know what the motivations behind me being chosen to participate in this specific fellowship were but I had a job to do here. It took me a long time to realize that in order for me to find some sort of peace within myself I needed to go above and beyond. I needed to think, I needed to write, and I needed to be honest with myself and those around me.

Tears, here, don't soften
The eyes. They only polish
The hardness of faces, like rock.
(“Suicide Attempts of Jerusalem” by Yehuda Amichai)

I have learned something while living in Israel; everything that happens here is taken with a grain of salt. From the recent rocket fire in Eilat, Sderot, and Ashdod to the bloody clashes with the Lebanese army in the north, this is life here. This is normal. The other night at a family barbecue, a big topic of conversation was the weather in Israel. My aunt used to live in a small town up in the mountains of Tal El in the northern part of Israel. She now lives in Caesarea but at the time when she lived in the north she told us how cold it used to get. That conversation led into how dangerous the highways were and that led into her experience during the Second Lebanon War.

She said that she regretted ever turning her bomb shelter into a storage room especially when a rocket crashed through her property. That conversation led to another one about the relationship between Jews and Arabs in her town. She said that when the war broke out the Arabs in the villages surrounding Tal El, threw rocks at Jewish homes and Jewish properties. They ran cars with Israeli plates off the roads. She told us in was hell and that her and her husband ran out of there during the war and spent a few weeks in Tel Aviv in order to avoid the constant threat of rocket fire and Arab hostilities. That anecdote led to others about the relationship between Jews and Arabs in Israel. Stories about my mother’s time living in Akko, my fathers’ time in Lebanon, and many others. But here, those stories aren’t said with emotion or tears. They aren’t told with anger or hatred. Instead they are told “matter of factly”, they are told nonchalantly. These anecdotes, these stories are told as if you were reading them out of a boring history book.

I think this type of experience may be the best kind. It’s all about listening to people, not asking them for their stories but allowing their stories to come to you. I find so many things in this country to be so interesting, the psychology of the people the emotions, these things that are so specific to Israel. A few days ago, we watched the coverage of the border clash with the Lebanese army at my grandparents’ house. In Israel, they will sometimes televise large funerals and that’s something I discussed with Jordan earlier this summer. Why is the nationalism in Israel so unique to Israel and at the same time powerful? Because to every Israeli, a Gilad Shalit is their son, a Dov Harari is their father, and every single military casualty is their own. Jordan felt that this was something that America needed, they needed to see the faces and families of those killed in the name of democracy, in the name of our freedom and in the name of our nation.

Now as we watched parts of the funeral, Dov Harari’s (the Israeli officer killed in the clash with the Lebanese army) 18-year-old daughter eulogized him. She said, “My father will never get to see me put on my uniform, he will never have the privilege of walking me down the isle.” At this point my grandmother began to cry. I realized that in Israel one family’s loss is the nation’s loss as well. It’s heartbreaking to see but it’s even harder to actually feel it, to become so emotionally drawn to a country and a situation that their suffering, their pain, becomes your own.

My journey in Israel came with its enlightening experiences but also with its disappointments. I found myself battling my parent’s perception, I was swimming against the current trying to convince my parents why, I believed I was doing the right thing for myself. Its something that took me a lot of time to understand, I will never be able to satisfy my parents because I am not them. I am my own person, I am my own self and I need to allow myself to disconnect from my need to live up to my parents' beliefs and expectations.

The other day a friend of mine asked me, “what was your favorite adventure this summer?” Hmm… I had to wrack my brain for that one. Sderot? Bethlehem? The Dead Sea? Rosh Hanikra? I don’t know if I have a favorite. The “funnest” trip was without a doubt, my journey to the Dead Sea with Wajida.

I get excited to tell the story but no one ever seems to care! A quick summary of that day was us missing our bus to the Dead Sea and then meeting 2 British people who we decided to categorize as new friends. After we missed our bus, we waited in line for the next one that would be coming 45 minutes later. It was already 10 minutes behind schedule when one of our new friends, Warren looked over at Wajida and began speaking to her in Hebrew. I decided to cut in quickly because Wajida had that confused look on her face that usually shows up every time someone speaks to her in rapid Hebrew. I told Warren, “She doesn’t speak Hebrew,” and his response was the start of a silly friendship. He looked at me with a confused look on his faces and responded, “then what does she speak?” English, obviously.

We finally got onto the bus; Warren and Simon (our new British buddies) had gotten onto a different bus. We met up with them again later when our bus made a rest stop and hour and a half into our bus ride. When we arrived to the Dead Sea we decided to take a short walk to Nahal Ein Bokek (Wadi Bokek). We asked around how to get there and we kept getting different sets of directions. Finally, a security guard at a nearby mini mall told us “Walk straight under the bridge and then just walk 50 meters and you will see Nahal Ein Bokek.”

I think when the security guard said “walk straight under the bridge” he meant climb down a cliff to get to a hot underground pathway. And when he told us to “walk 50 meters” he actually meant walk for 3 hours through a mountain. But we had to learn the hard way. So we climbed down the cliff, with only a bottle of water between the two of us and wearing cheap flip flops we began the hike that was probably the most enjoyable adventure I had in Israel.

After climbing down the cliff to reach the underpass we began to realize that this might not be as easy as the security guard had made it out to be. As we walked we experienced the discomfort of pebbles and stones cutting the bottom of our feet as they became wedged between our feet and our flip-flops. I decided to take off my flip-flops and walk barefoot, you know be super ROTC. Bad idea number 1. We realized we would need to keep our shoes, or lack there of, on during this hike. We kept walking and the more we walked the more difficult our environment became to manage. Tree branches stabbed and scratched my face and arms. Wajida would attempt to climb up the small rapids and waterfalls as we walked up the river and through the mountain. Unfortunately, she fell maybe 15 times and I just learned that I would need to step on different rocks and take a different route in order to not succumb to her fate.

At one point an Israeli jet shot through the sky above us and Wajida, who was in the process of climbing over a rapid, fell back and landed on her butt in the river due to the initial shock from the sound. We were running out of water at this point and it was getting hot (the temperature topped 54 degrees Celsius at the time of our hike) but we weren’t willing to turn back, especially after spending an hour and a half suffering from the rocks cutting the souls of our feet, the branches scratching our faces, and the slips and falls that we had endured. So, we kept walking. We joked on the way about being “ROTC” because we were hiking in flip-flops. We told each other silly stories, and just acted ridiculous. I think a lot of frustration and stress was finally relieved during this hike, we were out in the wilderness, unprepared and having a wonderful time, we needed this.

Finally we see a 10-12 foot waterfall and of course we decide to climb it. This is where bad idea number 2 came into play. Once again I thought it would be a great idea to climb up a waterfall without shoes. Well I didn’t realize that my bare feet and mossy rocks were enemies rather than friends, just like the Israelis and Palestinians I quipped jokingly to Wajy. After some uneasy laughter and nearly slipping off the waterfall I stuck my flip-flops back on and scaled the waterfall with Wajida extending her hand to me at the final leg of the climb. We arrived to a fresh water spring. Exhausted and excited we swam, ran around and rested in the cool water. After a while we decided it was time to head back to the Dead Sea.

I think we had become delirious at this point because we began composing an email to Jordan orally, which he would never receive of course. We completed each other’s sentences and joked about how “ROTC” we were. We had decided not to even buy food that day because we didn’t want to spend any money, which was definitely both Anushka and Jordan’s influence. Here is a short paraphrased excerpt form that epic email:

“Dear Jordan,
We hope you are well and not kidnapped by Hezbollah. We are writing you to inform you of this hike we decided to take today. On this hike we truly embodied ROTC.
We also learned a few important lessons from our journey:
Why wear hiking shoes when you can wear flip-flops?
Why eat when you can starve?
Why be comfortable when you can suffer?
Why be happy when you can be miserable?”

This is truly the ROTC way. And our hike was no doubt ROTC. Finally we reached the end of our journey, about 3 and a half hours later, and we began the trek back to the Dead Sea. Wajida’s first time at the Dead Sea was a great sight to witness. She had been excitedly “Googling” and reading as much as she can about the Dead Sea 3 weeks prior to our trip. Finally she had reached her destination. She floated happily through the salty waters as I sat back and attempted to soak in as much sun as possible. After a while we decided to take ROTC showers, with salty water, no soap, and air dry. We got dressed and headed over to our bus stop and waited for the bus back to Jerusalem. After about an hour of waiting we hopped onto an extremely crowded bus headed to Jerusalem.

At this point our moods seemed to dim. We had to sit on the floor for 2 hours and we began to snap at each other. At first it wasn’t too noticeable because we decided to show our anger in the most Brandeisian way, through passive aggressiveness. Then we outwardly snapped at each other. I think it was mostly out of hunger and exhaustion but in the end we reached our apartment. Food and showers, real showers and real food, I couldn’t have been happier at this point. Looking back at this trip, I recount this story with a grin on my face. It was something I wouldn’t have done with anyone else and anywhere else. It was a hike in flip-flops, it was ROTC, it was a defining moment for a friendship, it was a release, and it was a way to forget the negative and experience the positive. I think that this was probably one of my favorite adventures, and it has also become a memory that I will cherish forever.

A week and a half later we moved out of our Jerusalem apartment. Behind, we left memories, smiles, fights, tears, laughter, but not friendships. Those I decided to take with me. I remember when Anushka moved out, it was a Friday we were all pretty stressed we had guests from Jordan (the country not the ROTC), Olivia and Afshan, and a friend from Brandeis, Faith. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I hugged her goodbye. Its funny how goodbyes work, we have tearful goodbyes before we go off to our summer adventures but we know we will see each other again in the fall, we huge and part as if we wont see each other ever again but I think its different in this case. I know I’ll see Anushka again but it wont be the same, living with someone for 2 months and coming out of it alive and with respect and admiration for the people you lived with its an interesting experience. After saying goodbye to Anushka, Wajida and I were the only ones remaining with 3 house-guests; we knew it would be an interesting weekend.

That weekend was amazing, exciting, life changing, and beautiful. New friendships were forged and experiences were had. While touring through the Old City of Jerusalem with Olivia, Afshan and Faith, Faith and I witnessed something odd. As Wajy, Olivia and Afshan shopped Faith and I watched a religious, completely Hareidi man walk by an Arab owned store. Outside the store stood the Muslim owner, the two looked at each other and all of a sudden embraced. The Arab man played with the Hareidi man’s kids while they briefly chatted, with large grins on their faces. The two men were apparently old friends? This sight was so beautiful, enchanting and unique. It was truly coexistence.

Finally the weekend came to a close, Olivia and Afshan left, I got my ear pierced, and then finally Faith left as well. Now only Wajida and I were left in this beautiful apartment in the German Colony, in a city that we have begun to call home. I think leaving the apartment was the hardest thing for me to have done because I realized that I would be leaving Jerusalem for a very long time. My heart was aching, I just can’t explain it. The hardest thing I have ever done was getting on the Sherut (shared cab) to Tel Aviv and parting from Wajida at the bus station. The last thing I remember seeing before tears hindered my eyesight, was a sign that read “Tsetchem Le Shalom” (Leave in Peace). It’s a lot to think about, hard to talk about and almost impossible to write about.

I left Jerusalem with uneasiness and I hope to leave Israel with Peace. On the eve of my flight back to New York, I wonder how I will muster the strength to leave this country, to leave Israel. But then I remember the promise I made to myself years ago; I promised myself that I would grow old in the country. I promised myself that I would die in this country. I promised myself that I would LIVE in this country. And I promised myself that one-day I would return to my home, to Jerusalem.

Now I wonder to myself what will I do with everything I have experienced, with everything I have learned, with everything I have seen? Only time will tell but I have made another promise to myself, a new promise to myself. The lessons I have learned have come from my journey and not my destination and with these lessons, with this experience I will continue to advocate for peace. I will continue to educate myself on the conflict, and I will continue to love life the way I have learned to love in Jerusalem.

After two and half months living and breathing in Jerusalem, and another week spending time in Israel I have finally and truly felt the words of Yehuda Amichai. Jerusalem is a port city on the shore of my eternity.

Farewell Israel, I leave you with a heavy heart.