Today I attempted to get my cell phone in working order. It would make exploring the city SO much easier once my smartphone was up and running. The weather was still incredibly dusty, so we slept in and had a lazy morning at home before braving the dust to do this errand. Hunter informed me that the cell phone “guys” are in a traditionally orthodox neighborhood, so despite the 95 degree heat I got dressed in a long skirt, cardigan and scarf. As with every errand in a foreign country, it takes several attempts to get anything done at all. So, I’ll break my sequential narrative here and highlight my cell phone store experiences in this one post:

Trip #1 on 9/9: This store was a cultural experience to say the least. There was a pudgy young woman at the counter who said maybe three words in the 30 minutes we were in the 5’ x 5’ store. There was also a tall and pudgy man who was the “people person” and dealt with everyone that walked in the store. Even though there was a third employee, Mike, it was clear that Mike did not greet the customers or help them directly. Mike & the girl got their running orders from Tall Boss Man. This wouldn’t have been an problem but Tall Boss Man didn’t seem to know how to do anything himself, and the answer to every question was “um, Mike?” Even though it was my cell phone that we were discussing, Tall Boss Man only spoke to Hunter the entire time.

Trip #2 on 9/10: This time I went without Hunter. Tall Boss Man was forced to speak to me directly, and I gave him permission to unlock my AT&T SIM card so that, once that happened, I could come back and purchase and Israeli SIM card. It was the same song and dance, the girl was silent and picked at her nails, Tall Boss Man (TBM) assured me that unlocking a cell phone doesn’t take long, maybe two days at the absolute most. But, (with a sly little shrug which didn’t exactly show that he was sorry for the inconvenience) they would be closed the following two days, open for one day and then closed again for two days for the Rosh Hashanah holiday. TBM suggested I return after the holiday. Silent girl smiled and Mike stared at his phone.

Sneak photo of my fellow cell phone store customers

Trip #3 on 9/16: Nearly one week later I return to the store, and the same cast of characters greets me. Unlike my previous trips, I am no longer the only customer in the store. There are also 3-4 elderly orthodox jewish men who shuffle aside when I enter and stare straight ahead. I hadn’t dressed in a long skirt today simply because I didn’t see the point of continuing to make myself uncomfortable, and I learned that although the store was quite close to the border of the orthodox jewish neighborhood, it was sort of in a “No Man’s Land,” so I took advantage of the lack of strict rule and wore shorts. TBM informs me that it shouldn’t take too much longer, but, you know, the holidays … Mike tells TBM who then tells me that in addition to the normal slow speed of these things, the AT&T man informed Mike that my phone was a particularly lengthy process. At this point I really just wanted it resolved, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen today. My best option was to buy an Israeli SIM card today, and then put it in my phone in the next few days. Mike, TBM and even silent girl assured me that it would be three days at the most.

Trip #4 on 9/20: Three days later I tried to fit the Israeli SIM card into my phone and it didn’t fit. The store was, not surprisingly, closed for Shabbat so I returned the next day.

This time, breaking through the fourth wall, Mike spoke to me directly. In perfect english! He had had an issue with the man at AT&T, and as a result it would take an extra three business days. The term “business days” was strictly American.

“So AT&T is honoring American business days AND Israeli holidays? That’s ridiculous” I asked, not too pleased.

“No, just American business days. It will work again in three days,” Mike said.

I didn’t trust Mike but I (still) had no other options. They cut down the SIM card to fit my phone, a move I have never seen before.

Three days later: I put the SIM card in the phone and miracles of miracles, it works. I can now explore the city with Siri by my side. 

Lunch in Baka

When Hunter first moved to Jerusalem he lived in an apartment a few minutes walk away from the neighborhood of Bak’a/Baka/Baq’a. Baka is south and slightly downhill from the old city – a solid 30 minute walk. Baka became popular in the 1920s after Jerusalem’s first railroad station was built. Wealthy families built large homes in this neighborhood, conveniently located close to the new commercial hub of the city. First station, which is no longer accepting trains, is the northern marker of the Baka neighborhood, with a central business district of bookstores, coffeeshops and a movie theater heading along Emek Refa’im [street].

Wild pomegranate trees

Wild lemon tree

There are many cute cafes in this neighborhood, but for me the selling point was the calm and serene nature of the streets. Coming from Nachlaot, I can only compare it to how I feel when I leave Brooklyn and arrive at my aunt and uncle’s house in New Rochelle. Nachlaot is busy, dirty and crowded, while Baka has tree lined streets and private houses with gardens. There are apartment buildings as well, and small interconnecting streets similar to alleys but far more charming, a great way to peak into the gardens of fancy private homes. Hunter and I walked around the neighborhood and explored after a delicious lunch at one of the aforementioned cafes. We agreed that if the opportunity arose, we would love to live here.

Hunter pointed out a running path that he used when he lived in this neighborhood. The running path leaves from first station and heads south, exactly over the course of the former train tracks. The trail itself runs between the train rails, similar to the high line walkway in New York. First station is a social center complete with a children’s play area, cafes and restaurants. Sometimes there are concerts at night, which we will check out sooner or later.

That dusty dusty moon

Free books at the railroad running path

This place was packed! And of course, being the religiously ignorant people that we are, we had no idea why. After some research afterward, we learned that is the site where Jesus was both crucified and also buried. More information here: http://churchoftheholysepulchre.net/

It is also, we discovered, a popular pilgrimage destination for Christians. It certainly felt that way. There were groups everywhere, and poor group leaders trying to corral their followers while also allowing them to explore. It seems that in Israel, similar to what I have observed in Europe and South America, group leaders adopt the policy of holding an object very high in the air so that even the shortest tourists can find the leader at all times. It found this amusing, considering that these tourists have probably traveled a very long way, and paid a lot of money to stand in this building. Was it then also necessary to hold a yellow umbrella ten feet in the air? Maybe, I don’t know, just keep it down while you’re in the church? All of the groups had personal headphones and could hear the tour guide through this interface, removing the need for everyone to be within a three foot radius. It was interesting to see the majority of the visitors acting really excited when they were entering the tomb, and honoring the crucifixion site. In a day and age where practicing religion is on a downward trend worldwide, it’s nice to see people with a little passion [of the christ] (sorry, couldn’t help myself).

After the church we were worn out, the old city can be quite exhausting as it is but the heat and dust added another layer of fatigue. We got lost (again) and after finding our way out took a bus to Baka for lunch.

Photo credits:

“Altar of the Crucifixion l” by Glogger – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Altar_of_the_Crucifixion_l.jpg#/media/File:Altar_of_the_Crucifixion_l.jpg

“The Church of the Holy Sepulchre-Jerusalem” by http://www.flickr.com/photos/jlascar/ – http://www.flickr.com/photos/jlascar/10350972756/in/set-72157636698118263/. Licensed under CC BY 2.0 via Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Church_of_the_Holy_Sepulchre-Jerusalem.JPG#/media/File:The_Church_of_the_Holy_Sepulchre-Jerusalem.JPG

Dust storm views from the Temple Mount

Tuesday morning we woke up and found that our entire apartment had been covered in a thick layer of dust. Disoriented and still sleepy we stumbled into the living room where Tal announced “it’s from Syria.” Hunter and I decided that despite the dust we would attempt to see the old city again, and visit the Al Aqsa mosque during visiting hours. Walking through the old city we asked directions to the mosque again, this time to a different pair of Israeli soldiers who, thankfully, pointed us in the right direction without asking us questions about our personal lives. They did share that I needed to be covered from my ankles to my wrists, which was fine with us as I had left the house in long pants, and then would put a sweater on over my dress when we arrived at the mosque. In addition I had a scarf with which to cover my head, as the soldiers the day before told us that it was necessary.

We filed into the line for the security checkpoint, and were able to go through with just Hunter’s copy of his passport. We were concerned that I would also need a passport but apparently this is not the case. This security guard/soldier asked us if we were Jewish. “She is, but I’m not,” Hunter answered.

“Ok,” the soldier said, “no praying. Don’t go in the mosque”

“Thank you” I said, none of this information was new to me, as it had been written on at least three signs in line, and beyond that it was very well known information to visitors of this site. Due to recent warring between Palestine and Israel, one of the elements of the peace negotiations was to no longer allow Jewish visitors the opportunity to pray at the temple mount. Don’t worry, if this sounds confusing you’re not alone – this is one of the most contested religious sites in the world. The temple mount, as jews call this site, is the holiest site in Judaism, as it stands on the site of the first temple of the Hebrews. In addition, per wikipedia, it is believed that this is where God gathered dust in order to create Adam. For Sunni Muslims, this is the third holiest site in Islam, as it is believed to be the place where Mohammed ascended to heaven. After the second intifadah, the law stands that Jewish people are not allowed to pray on this site. In addition visiting times are restricted to only a few hours a day, and they are not allowed to enter the Mosque. For this last rule, it applies to all non-muslims, not just Jews. In addition, as we were about to learn, there are some questionable rules for the way that women are required to dress. We also learned that there is a strict ‘no touching’ rule between men and women.

Upon entering the site, I was covered from my ankles to my wrists, with a scarf around my neck for additional modesty. A man pointed me in a direction other than the majority of the other visitors, towards a guy with long fabric that he wanted us to tie around our waist. I thought I had heard him say it was one shekel, but in fact it was 20 shekels. I was outraged by this cost, because I had followed all of the rules as they had been explained to me. Another woman in our group, who was very modestly dress, and who, unlike me, appeared to dress like this every day, said “that is ridiculous, I will not pay you” and walked away with her family. I followed her lead and handed the scarf back to the man, and walked away. Unlike her, I wandered into the site, instead of being led out of the site by the man and his friends. This was a pretty sad attempt at profiting off of a holy site, and it angered both me and that woman.

The site was absolutely beautiful, but due to the heat and the dust we were ready to head out of the site within 30 minutes. We then decided that we should leave the Old City and go get some lunch, but the city being the way it is, we were unable to find our way out and instead of finding one of the exits we ended up at the Site of the Holy Sepulchre, one of the holiest sites in Christianity.

Hunter planned a fun night out on Monday night, to help welcome me to the city. We had drinks at a hip bar/restaurant called Machneyuda, which is one of the most popular spots in the city. The cocktails, which we enjoyed al fresca, were absolutely delicious. In a cute move, each cocktail was named for a dictator, and I can strongly recommend the Kim Jong Il. The drink, like it’s namesake, was strong, pint-sized, and left a lasting impression. Sitting at a cute table on the sidewalk, tea light candles and the sounds of distant trucks and ambient pedestrian noises, it felt like we were in New York City. The constant english sound bites reaching our ears helped drive the point home. The joy of being together again, discussing normal things over a non-cellular connection was pure bliss.

After our drink we went down the street to a Kurdish restaurant named Ima (translation: Mom). The ambiance was upscale cozy, and the waitress presented us with english menus (phew) and helped us order a fantastic meal. This is when I was introduced for the first time to a Kuba. A delicious addition to my list of favorite foods, Kuba is a kurdish staple. It is a bread stuffed with spiced beef, or just vegetables, and then deep fried. In a word – YUM.

Twenty minutes of walking brought us to the Old City gates. We walked in the “New Gate,” and strolled through the Christian quarter. Wait, is that a kippah for sale? Yeah, and that’s a store of Jewish paraphernalia. I guess we’re in the Jewish quarter. But — hey — that’s a store of crosses! I supposed we actually are in the Christian quart —well look at that. Signs saying “Visit Palestine” and posters with Arabic writing. Is this the Muslim quarter?

“Hunter, should I put my scarf on?” I had dressed for the weather in a tank top, and didn’t want to be disrespectful.

“Let me ask this guy” Hunter responded, equally confused by the intermixed shops. He approached a man on a pile of small rugs, and spoke to him in (broken) Arabic.

The man smiled and said “Jewish, Christian, Muslim, it is all the same.”

Quite profound considering we were walking within the city walls that contained some of the holiest relics of three major world religions. Also very surprising due to the constant stories of conflict and animosity between these religions and their followers.

We continued walking, perused the shops, drank fresh pomegranate juice and happened upon the entrance to the Al Aqsa Mosque. Here, two Israeli soldiers ate sandwiches leaning against the wall. We were told that at this time it is for Muslims only. The soldiers informed us that the Mosque would be open tomorrow from 7 – 11 am, and from 1:30 – 2:30 pm. He noted that we needed to dress conservatively, and I needed to cover my legs and arms from my ankles to my wrists. In addition I would need a scarf around my head. He also asked us why we are in Israel, and we carried on a pleasant, although slightly strained conversation. He asked our religions, and then, perhaps going beyond sheer pleasantries, asked what the policy is for Protestants – do the children take the religion of the father or the mother. Hunter responded they become the religion of the father.

“So if the children are to be the religion of the mother, and the religion of the father, what will they be?” The soldier, still a complete stranger, asked.

At this point I was ready for the conversation to be over. Not even 24 hours into my stay in Israel and shit was getting real.

“Haha…yeah, so we’ll have to figure that out,” Hunter politely deferred the topic, “thanks for your help.”

We walked away pondering his question and the quick escalation of the conversation. We would see the mosque the next day. After a few more turns through the remarkable city streets, we walked out of the Damascus gate, and into east Jerusalem. We found some Shwarma and cold water and enjoyed a delicious meal. A very full and exciting first day … I was ready for a nap!

Shwarma lunch

Yummy!

First morning in Israel

Satisfying meal … note the fresh figs

I slept like a drunk college student – soundly, and for many hours. I would say I slept like a baby, but as I learned first hand in Ann Arbor, this phrase is very misleading. Upon waking up, Hunter prepared us a delicious breakfast and we planned our day together. I wanted to explore our surroundings, and it was a perfect day to do so. The weather was hot and sunny with clear skies and a slight breeze – making it impossible to stay indoors.

Jaffa Street – the main commercial district, and route of the #1 train line

Our apartment is located on Nisim Bachar, a street in the neighborhood of Nachlaot near downtown Jerusalem. Nachlaot is one of the central neighborhoods in modern Jerusalem, within walking distance to the old city and on several major bus lines as well as the #1 train line. Nachlaot was one of the areas established for residence outside of the Old City in the mid 1800s, back when the old city was becoming too unsanitary and crowded. Nachlaot is characterized by many small streets, some only the width of a staircase, which wind throughout the neighborhood creating small inner courtyards and crossroads between the “main” streets – which themselves are only wide enough for one car at a time with “Israeli” parking (aka half on the street, half on the sidewalk).

The Shuk

In today’s time, Nachlaot is a hip and popular living spot – similar to the East Village or Williamsburg in NYC. Historically, Nachlaot had the highest concentration of synagogues in the entire city, and today the religious presence is felt, although the old school jews seem to be a diminishing minority. The crowds moving into the ramshackle apartments are a different sort of Jew. Still religious and observant of religious rituals, but with a hippy vibe similar to individuals found in the Bay Area.

Shuk: Man responsible for this bread insanity

Shuk: Bread, bread, bread

Shuk: Figgy figgy fig

Nisim Bachar is a 5 minute walk from “the Shuk,” a popular spot for both locals and tourists alike. The shuk is an indoor/outdoor market selling fruits, vegetables, fish, nuts, olives, pastries, pasta and tahini 101 different ways. It’s loud, crowded and spectacular. Hunter informs me that this is where we will be buying most of our groceries. Challenge accepted.

After ambling around our neighborhood and the shuk, we head to Jaffa street. Jaffa street is closed off to cars because it has the only train line in the city – a tram called the #1 line. For under 2 USD the tram takes you from west to east within the city of Jerusalem. Rumor has it that #1 won’t be alone for too long – a #2 is planned for the “near” future. Sounds to me like the 2nd avenue subway line, but maybe I’m just cynical. Instead of taking the tram we walked the length of Jaffa street to the old city walls, finding many clothing and shoe stores along with way. Also, a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf (note to self), and a store called “Holy Bagel” which made me laugh – I’ll always be impressed by a good pun, even more when written in English outside of the U.S. I will always be impressed, as well, by a delicious bagel. See you soon Holy Bagel.

My new housemate Tal, along with Hunter, gave us a ride back to our apartment in Jerusalem from the airport. Tal had just finished her workday at El Al’s customer service department, where she fields phone calls and addresses customer’s complaints. She greeted me and helped me & Hunter throw my huge bags into the car, and then presented some cookies and fruit she had brought from the office. This girl, I thought, is someone I am going to like.

Driving to our apartment through the Israeli countryside, Tal opted to take an alternative route. She said that Route 1 is the most common way to get between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, but considering she makes the commute very often, she opted instead to take the 443, a slightly longer route that has less traffic. “Hmm” I thought, wondering what the importance of this announcement was.

Entering Jerusalem

“You see that?” Tal pointed to our left at what looked like a military compound. She explained that it was one of many checkpoints to enter Palestine, and the 443 actually runs on the edge of Palestine/outskirts of Israel as it winds through the countryside. On either side of the road the hillsides were dotted with small towns, each building contributing a shade of khaki to the already sandy landscape. Tal stated that you can always tell the Arabic villages from the Israeli villages “because they look so different.” These differences were lost on me, the nuanced aesthetics of arabic vs. Israeli buildings is still a foreign concept. Hunter pointed out that the arabic buildings each had a water tower on the roof. He explained, tactfully, that Israelis use water as a means to maintain authority over the Palestinians, particularly during contentious periods in recent history.

After another 20 minutes, we arrived at the outskirts of Jerusalem. The city unrolled before us, again with row after row of sandstone buildings, but this time there were also large traffic lights, highways, billboards, movie theaters, government buildings and parks to admire. Before I know it Tal is somewhat miraculously parallel parking on a tiny street. We are home.

The apartment is as I pictured from the video Hunter sent to me. It reminds me immediately of the apartment I lived in with my friends in Argentina. It’s a little dirty, randomly decorated, and there aren’t two dishes remaining from the same set. It’s comfortable, inviting and very homey immediately. Hunter bought me a small welcoming gift of fancy pasta, along with a very adorable homemade card. I think all of this time Hunter is the one with the calligraphy skills!

Welcome Home!

Hunter has a hidden talent

I showered and washed away the Russian airline, along with it my stress of arriving to Israel and meeting up with Hunter. I couldn’t believe I had actually made it – the next phase of our life could finally begin. In the other room Tal prepared some curry and we ate our first meal together as housemates.

So much baggage. Literally, not emotionally.

I had found a great deal. Really. Flying round trip from Tel Aviv to NYC for just over $700 was a steal, and knowing this I was wary to expect much from the airline. I figured it would be an uncomfortable seat, maybe some bad food, and perhaps even surly flight attendants. When I arrived at JFK after saying my final good byes to the Florences, I ambled into the terminal carrying my body weight’s worth of luggage.

I went through the song and dance of checking my baggage, giving a confused face when the woman told me the bag was overweight (despite my grasp of this fact well before arriving at the counter). She presented two options to me for my overweight baggage. I could either add a third bag for a cost of $150 dollars (!!), or I could keep the baggage the way it is for a fee of $225 (!!!!). I broke out a chalkboard, did some quick calculations and found that $150 is less than $225, and now I needed to figure out a way to repack this luggage. This lovely staff member also informed me that there is a weight restriction on my carry-on of about 15 pounds, and I am only allowed one bag – not the customary two bag policy similar to every other airline in the freaking world. She said there was an area with a scale that I can use to repack my luggage, luckily I had packed one of my backpacks that is really large, which allowed me to not completely panic. The “area” was actually just a few feet to the right, smack dab in front of the 50 odd people in line, who before my dilemma were left with nothing to do other than stare at the ceiling. Hey guys! Free show over here!

The process of assessing which items in your suitcase are the heaviest, and then removing them from a meticulously packed bag (shout out to Lori Nathan), reinserting them in a backpack, and weighing both bags until the magic balance is found is, not surprisingly, difficult. I think a few of my readers have been in a similar situation at the airport. I felt like I was on some strange version of The Price is Right, except instead of assessing a cost I needed to determine a weight until the magic sum is reached. I scrambled around sweating and cursing and avoiding all of the eyes in my direction from the sensible lightly packed passengers in line. After a little over half an hour I had reached my weight goal, and went back to the check-in counter. Instead of confetti or an announcement that I had advanced to the showcase showdown, I was rewarded with my boarding pass and the fact that my flight was 2.5 hours delayed.

JFK isn’t a horrible place to kill time, and I made my final phone calls on US soil, ate some mediocre pizza and daydreamed. I felt ready to leave.

Breakfast on board

In flight magazine

Dinner on board

The seats were very small, even for my 5’6″ frame there was hardly any leg room. One small note – the airline referred to our ticket class as “Economy/Tourist” which I found a little funny. Come tour our plane! Take photos! But be careful – as you explore the cabin you will probably step on one of the densely packed passengers. The flight was delayed even more before we took off, pretty much ensuring that I would miss my connection in Moscow. Knowing there was little I could do to speed up the plane, I relaxed and explored the entertainment system. Five seconds later I realized that the “system” was just a 3″ x 5″ blue screen with a map of the world and the plane’s relative position within the world. No movies, music or TV for the 9 hour flight. I settled in and tried to sleep instead, but was woken up an hour in by a strange feeling for me – I was hot! I am never hot, and am frequently made fun of for bringing a sweater out on a summer day with temperature in the 80s. The plane was sweltering, and everyone I could see was fanning themselves and trying as hard as possible to be comfortable. Uh oh! At that point the flight attendant came around with food, which I ate a little of and just mostly feigned sleep for the remaining time in the air.

Upon arrival in Moscow, I ran through the terminal through customs and found that my flight from Moscow > Tel Aviv had also been delayed an hour. Yes! I made it to the gate and on the plane. This plane was a much nicer aircraft (still no entertainment system) with at least five additional inches of leg room and three inches of width on the seat! Success! Ok, just a few more hours until I land in Israel…

I got off the flight, interacted with an intimidating Israeli man at customs, and headed to baggage claim. My luck was looking up because all of my 3 (!!) bags had arrived. Phew! I had been in Moscow for under 45 minutes, leaving me, in the end, impressed with Transaero airlines. They may delay your flight, abuse the unwritten rules of edible food and ignore all standards for in flight entertainment but be sure your baggage WILL arrive at your destination.

I walked through the doors and found Hunter immediately. Together at last!

Entering Jerusalem

It was a long time coming.

I knew for several months, that come September 5th I would need to get on a plane and leave my life in the U.S. behind. Despite this inevitable truth, or perhaps because of it, I made every effort to see those people who are important to me before this looming deadline. Since Hunter left New York at the beginning of July, I found myself feeling more adrift than normal. Even though nothing major had changed externally – I was in my home city, going to the same job and eating the same oatmeal every day, I didn’t quite feel like myself. It took me some time to understand that I wasn’t myself just living in NYC and going to work and eating oatmeal, I needed people around me who love me and who I can laugh with and hug and all of a sudden, with Hunter gone, there was a noticeable absence.

So, I did what I do very well and completely over-scheduled myself. Left with this new feeling of emptiness, I felt that the only solution was to fill it with weekend trips and extended visits to my closest friends and family. I must admit that there were times that I just didn’t really feel like driving in the car, or catching a flight or train, or even putting on a nice outfit for dinner. But, the reason I pushed past my own diminishing energy level, was because I knew that if I spent even five minutes in the company of these people, I would immediately smile and wake up.

Jessie and I in Chicago after dinner at Cindy’s

One last happy hour with NYU comrades Shaina, Andrea, Sarah & Carolyn

Final rooftop dinner in NYC with Mom, Teddy, Sarah, Charlie & Jo

End of an era. End of couch time in the East Village with Maya & Michael

DELICIOUS Hamburger at Au Cheval with Rachael in Chicago

Becca & Nathan in Ann Arbor for a few days

A “Milo” moment in Maine

Fellow survivors of LIU PT program

Dinner in Prospect Heights with Jude, Ward & Jocey

Mom & Dad in South Haven for the weekend

Gotta fit in one more bus ride with the Valeries in NYC

Nany in Lindenhurst, feeling good!

New Rochelle with Sarah & Ben

Kathryn, Diana & I show our athletic side in Minneapolis

Quick trip to Maryland with Emily

Shopping and lunch with Boo in Highland Park

Taste testing two varieties of smoked chicken a la Willhooley in Crown Heights

Seeing everyone over the past two months at first made saying good-bye even more difficult, and set my brain in denial mode. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon!” I kept saying in an offhand way, easily walking away until my friend reminded me that “soon” was, in fact, not in the cards. I transitioned slowly through denial into acceptance of not being able to physically see those close to me whenever I wanted/felt like buying a short plane ticket. This time with all of these special people has reminded me of how lucky I am to be surrounded by so many loving individuals, and how deep these relationships run. Some of these people came into my life only a few years earlier, a fact I am constantly surprised by given the depth of our friendships. This idea, that a close bond can be formed within a short period of time, is encouraging as I move into this next phase of my life in Israel. Although it seems impossible right now, I may indeed find myself making new friends of the caliber that I have at home, even though these people are complete strangers now.

For those of you who I have seen before leaving the US, thank you for your support and love. Even if your photo is not above, you know who you are and that I love you dearly.

TTFN