Jerusalem if I forget you
Let my right hand forget what it’s supposed to do
Let my right hand forget what it’s supposed to do
-Psalm 137:5, and more popularly, Matisyahu's "Jerusalem"
Before the arrival of my family, I found myself ready to leave Israel. It isn’t that my time here has been anything but tremendous, only that I would very much like to see my family, friends, and dogs back at home. As I sit here and write this final entry regarding this magnificent journey that I have undertaken, we are in the middle of the week (actually it is Wednesday, July 4th), and the image of departing from the Land that I have been shown remains an unthinkable fact that I have grown conscious of but cannot completely comprehend. I am beginning to realize the intense attachment I hold towards this state, towards Jerusalem, towards all of the shops, restaurants, and bars that I frequent, towards the pride I feel when I walk down Jaffa St., towards the awe that I am still overcome with when I walk through the gates of the Old City, and to the humility instilled in me every day when I learn amounts of information sufficient to fill libraries. I love the United States with all my heart and will rejoice upon my return, but the zealous passion I have for Israel will make for an extremely difficult departure.
I suppose I must begin this last entry right where I left off with the prior one, although honestly, our week is only halfway past and already we have seen, traveled, and accomplished more in a few days than some people do in months. This entry will be a doozy, but for my last hurrah, its time spent writing (and hopefully reading) will surely be worth it. As I previously predicted, we began Sunday with one last trip to Tzfat. Our first stop there, the acclaimed Candle Factory, certainly offered an aesthetically pleasing environment, with its handmade artisan candles, each multicolored, each shade and hue in contrast with the next. The wide array of colorful wax is quite a sight to behold, but in my opinion, each display within the shop takes a back seat to their two-foot by three foot rendition of Noah’s Ark, made completely from wax, in which revered Disney cartoon animals such as Winnie the Pooh, Mickey Mouse, Simba, etc., sit atop as passengers aboard the vessel.
After walking through the galleries one last time, we left Tzfat en route to Caesarea, King Herod’s famous ancient port city. Constructed to provide leisure to Romans who had made a long trek over to Eretz Yisrael and had some time to kill before their return, three main arenas satisfied their entertainment needs: an elaborate gymnasium and spa, a wide hippodrome overlooking the sea where charioteers would race in front of crowds of thousands, and an immense amphitheater where some of the era’s most heralded dramatic productions took place. We then refreshed ourselves at a nearby restaurant before beginning our journey back to Jerusalem.
Anticipation had been building within me for three days. I eagerly awaited our arrival to Yerushalayim. The Land of Israel is as eclectic as they come, both in terms of topography and demography, but in my mind, it is the representative of Israel as a whole, and I was a bit uncomfortable having shown them other cities prior to Jerusalem. I did not want those to be their first impression of the country.
We rolled into town in the early afternoon, took a light walk, and settled for the night. Well my family settled at least. Sunday night marked the Euro Cup Championship, with Espana pitted against Italia. With my friends Josh, Lauren, and Daniela, I ventured downtown to my favorite watering hole, Bell Wood, to watch the futbol match. The downtown area was packed, the bar zone strewn with spectators seated bumper to bumper. We crouched in the corner by an outdoor screen, my arms flailing in the air, my voice calling loudly, full of excitement, and inevitably melancholy, as I witnessed Italy, the team I had taken a gamble on, dismantled, routed, and reduced to rubble by the superior Spanish team. Still, out with friends and amid a crowd of thousands, watching the game was a good time and offered its share of thrills.
I must declare that over the last six months, I have seen, done, and learned a tremendous amount spanning myriad realms; however, it is necessary to state just how much knowledge I have acquired over my last week in Jerusalem. Monday morning marked the magnificent milieu of means and modes that have mounted the map of my mind. It was on that day that we toured the Old City, possibly Jerusalem’s most treasured offering. At 9:30 AM, we met up with our tour guide, Nikki, outside of the Jaffa Gate entrance. At my behest, Nikki first led us up to the Temple Mount, the only region of the Old City that I had yet to see. The Temple Mount, which was fortified by King Herod before the Common Era, housed the Second Temple. It now stands as the third holiest site in the world for Muslims, behind Mecca and Medina. Atop the mount sits the Al Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock. Constructed with solid gold, the dome stands as one of the most conspicuous features of the city, and with its bright blue, meticulously detailed tiled walls, it stands as an excellent piece of engineering and design.
Next, we descended down to the Western Wall, the only original remnant of the Second Temple. In a world where materialism and Hedonism are ubiquitously manifest, we made acquaintance with two of the most spiritual and esoteric places that could be found on our globe, all within fifteen minutes of each other. After we had spent sufficient time at the Kotel, Nikki led us away from the Old City and into the Ancient City, the City of David. Constantly being excavated, this site could stand as any archaeologist’s letter to Santa. A hotbed of antiquated remains, the City of David features as its main attraction Hezekiah’s Tunnel. Multiple kilometers long, this narrow, underground water tunnel was built by King Hezekiah millennia ago as a as a mechanism by which the Jews could transport water while stealthily evading Assyrian combatants. The most enigmatic asset of the tunnel is the paradoxical manner in which it flawlessly meets in the middle, being that it was built by two teams digging from either side. To this day, archaeologists and historians are still perplexed as to how either side knew where to converge with the other.
By the time we navigated through the tunnel, a long day’s hike caused our stomachs to rumble, and so we ascended back up to the Jewish Quarter of the Old City and lunched on Schwarma laffas. After promenading though the streets, we ventured over to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the Christian Quarter. Designed with the darkest of colors and filled with tourists moving lethargically, the church engenders a somber mood. Before long, one comes to the places where Jesus is said to have been crucified and where he is said to have been buried. Once we had viewed all of the major attractions within the church, we walked around the Arab market. I helped Sydney haggle, and when we had purchased our desired items, we departed from the Old City and said farewell to Nikki. Yes, that was all in one day.
On Tuesday, our day’s major events were Yad VaShem and the shuk. Yad VaShem, Israel’s Holocaust museum, always renders intensely morose emotions from its patrons, with my family equally subject to abject despondence. In the twenty one years of my life, I have never seen my father cry. But when he attempted to enter the Hall of Names, the museum’s ultimate vestibule, an emotional barrier forced an impasse between him and the hall, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
In a petrified stupor, we left the museum and headed towards the shuk. The first feeling of pleasure felt after leaving Yad VaShem is always an ambivalent one. A person can never know when it is appropriate to allow themselves enjoyment. I felt almost guilty giving them a grand tour of Mahane Yehuda, but it was something I had looked forward to since the trip’s inception. We sat at a little cage in one of the labyrinth’s main corridors and had a nice lunch, again somewhat of a guilty pleasure. That night was an early one, for Wednesday marked our most arduous section of the week’s itinerary. But I did manage to make it out for a bit to say goodbye to my friend Lauren, who was staying in Israel for the remainder of the summer as a camp counselor but was leaving Jerusalem on that night. One would think that I would be a pro at “goodbyes” by now, but they never get much easier.
Before our sun’s rays penetrated Jerusalem’s skies, we awoke on Wednesday morning for a physically taxing day. Our day, complete with a hike up Masada, a walk through Ein Gedi, and a float in the Dead Sea, would be quite exhausting, and with the sun beaming down onto Masada at un-hikable temperatures by late morning, we began our journey up the snake path at 7:30 AM. The trek rigorous, the path rocky, the steps incessant, we hufflepuffed up the mountain, but after slitherin’ our way up the snake path, where we saw many a raven claw, we emerged victorious over the mountain, and did not require the Nimbus 3000 (the cable car) to secure the victory.
Our guide, Cliff, excelled at leading us about the mountain top, educating us on its extensive history, pointing out historic edifices, nooks, and crannies, and facilitating us back down the mountain, this time on the Nimbus 3000. Already exhausted from a full day of work (all before 11 AM), we walked through Ein Gedi for only a short duration before stumbling upon its first waterfall, quickly refreshing ourselves in its basin, and heading to the Dead Sea, where we would first have a well-earned lunch at its entrance. Once we made it to the super-saline sea, we floated for a bit, but before long, Cliff found a spot where we could scoop up clumps of mud and rub them over our bodies, thereby supposedly exfoliating our pores or moisturizing our skin or something (Sydney would know). All I’m certain about is that it was fun. When we sensed we were sufficiently salty, we crawled out of the sea and headed back to Jerusalem. On the way back to Jerusalem, we stopped at a gas station where camel riding was commercialized. Naturally, I could not pass that opportunity up, and sat perched atop its back while led on a short walk. It was a thrilling way to end a thrilling day.
That night, being the 4th of July, one of my most cherished American holidays, I met up with a few friends at the most American location in the country, Mike’s Place. The basement, where most people fill up their cup, was draped with American flags and a live band proceeded to play Country music. Naturally, I requested Sweet Home Alabama, and it was accepted. We sat there for hours drinking Samuel Adams and sharing stories of past Independence Days. Towards the end of the night, I spotted my friend Jackie. Not only had I not seen her in a year, but I wasn’t even aware she was in Israel. She was accompanied by Liz, another friend of mine. Both Liz and Jackie were on my Israel trip last summer, and randomly seeing them in Mike’s Place was quite a thrill. After catching up for a while, we parted ways. There was one last necessary component of any July 4th that we had not yet checked off of our list, eating hotdogs. But we could not find many options in terms of frankfurters in Jerusalem that night, so we ended the evening at my favorite final destination, New Deli, where we did manage to procure the hotdogs we so desperately quested after.
Thursday was an exciting day for me, for it was the morning where I would get to give my family a tour of my old stomping grounds (my Kfar HaStudentim and the Hebrew U campus). The campus is gorgeous. I often refer to it as a botanical garden where they happen to hold classes. When walking through the quad area, one is lost in a sea of green, albeit amid a dearth of sharp reds, oranges, purples, pinks, and yellows as well. As our tour came to an end, my father and I cabbed over to the Israel Museum while the girls went shopping at Mamilla Mall. Although I had been there a few months prior, patronizing the museum helped fortify my knowledge of ancient history, an always welcomed opportunity.
Earlier in the week, my friend Ilana had proselytized an upcoming concert, an Israeli rap band called Balkan Beat Box, and I submitted to her advertisement. The concert took place on Thursday night at Gan HaAzmaut. Although very talented, I was a bit put off by the band’s performance. Accompanying their music was a visual presentation, most of its material regarding rebellion against some political entity. We never learned who the angst was directed towards or why it was felt in the first place, and the aimless discontent left me a bit uncomfortable. However, the lively crowd still made for a fun night, and it was a great last night spent with Ilana and my friends Rachel Levin. Later that night, I met up with my friend Josh for one last hurrah around the bars. Sydney came with as well, and it was a great pleasure to show her Jerusalem’s nightlife. We of course made our way to Bell Wood, and eventually New Deli. It was sad to head back, that being my last night out in Jerusalem, but I cannot complain about the great fun that the area offered to me for six months.
Yet another goodbye was in order on Friday afternoon, this time with my friend Rachel Groetsch. Her camp had an excursion to the shuk, and since I needed to accumulate a few amenities for Shabbat dinner later that night, our paths crossed seamlessly. We walked around for a while before I had to make good on our Euro Cup wager. After sitting at Aroma for a while, enjoying a cup of coffee, it was time for another goodbye, or l’hit, as I prefer to refer to it as.
After Rachel had to go, I took my last light rail ride over to my last Old City session. Walking through its corridors, breathing in all I could, I acknowledged how much a part of me the sum of all of Jerusalem’s parts had become. I happen to have prosperous, wonderful lives back in Chicago and Madison, where Millenium Park and Camp Randall serve as my playgrounds, but leaving Independence Park and Camp Yehuda in my wake has proven the most challenging of tasks.
When I arrived back at the apartment, I rested up and set the table for our upcoming Shabbat dinner. Just after 6:30 PM, we cabbed to the Old City and proceeded immediately to the Wall. I had been to the Kotel for services once, a year ago, but I did not remember Kabbalat Shabbat to be such a zoo there. There were more black hats there than those worn by White Sox players over the course of the team’s history. In solitude (my dad stood back in the plaza area with Jamie and Sydney), I conducted Kabbalat Shabbat and Ma’ariv to the Carlebach tunes I enjoy so much.
After services, we headed back up toward the Jaffa Gate, but not before I encountered a surprise run-in with my friend Bari, which inevitably led to another goodbye. I think I have run into ten or so friends randomly in Jerusalem over the last two weeks. Only in Jerusalem could that happen. Back at our apartment, a lavished feast awaited us, its aroma seeping out of the oven and through the front door, all the way to the hallway. Each of us salivating by this time, we gorged ourselves over studded vegetables, schnitzel, roasted veggies, challah, wine, and ruggalah. Carb comas coming on, we then crawled to our quarters and counted sheep.
Saturday was the day I had been dreading for a while. It was the day when my time in Jerusalem would come to a culmination. We drove to Tel Aviv in the late morning. As my walls closed in on my time in Jerusalem, I felt them inching ever closer in on my time in Israel. When we entered the city, we met up with family there, Sharon and Ido, in a fun neighborhood within the city called Neve Tzedek. After a great lunch and quality time spent with family, we got back to our hotel, the Lusky Suites, where we had stayed our first night of the trip, promptly set our bags down and headed towards the beach. I caught a few z’s out by the sea.
We dined later that night by the picturesque Old Jaffa Port, but not before struggling to find our intended restaurant of choice, Aladin which inhabited a 600 year old building. We never did find it for dinner, but sat down instead at a fancy seafood restaurant overlooking the sea. After a delectable dinner, we took a relaxing stroll through Old Jaffa, and with serendipity on our side, stumbled upon Aladin. Too coincidental to pass up, we entered the antiquated edifice for dessert. Because it was a lovely night and a sedentary day, I decided to walk back to the hotel while my family took a taxi. About a forty minute walk, I was reminded of my walk back from the King David Hotel where I lunched months ago, also a relaxing stroll.
On my last full day in Israel, we kicked off the agenda with a trip to the Diaspora Museum at Tel Aviv University. Another great lesson in history was succeeded by a belt-loosening stop at the Max Brenner Chocolate Shop. A couple thousand calories later, we walked back to our hotel and rested up for another night on the town. I walked to Old Jaffa and met my family in front of Aladin, but we soon made our way down to a famous eatery there called Dr. Shakshuka. The feast that they placed in front of us was too large and too delicious for words, but it included a wide variety of dips and salads for appetizers, shakshuka of course, meats galore, and couscous with stew to put on top. I needed another walk back afterwards, and so I got my cardio on once again. Then I spent my last night in Israel for a while.
As I finish this final entry, I am back in the States. In fact, I have been here for a few days. I miss Israel a ton, but relish the time I have back here with my family and friends. The title of this last post will be synonymous with the book that I will turn this blog collection into: Back and There Again. It is a play on Bilbo Baggins’ “There and Back Again”. I am not sure where back is and where there is. All I know is that I now call two countries home. When I am back, I’m there, and when I’m there, I’m back. If I may offer a parable, home is an upside down parabola. With Israel on one end and the US on the other, they converge somewhere in the middle. That is my state of mind. Each is inextricably linked to the other, and when I reside in one, I’m a bit homesick for the other.
I have had without a doubt the most incredible semester of my life in Jerusalem. I am so lucky to have had that opportunity. I have made wonderful friendships that will last a lifetime, acquired a great wealth of knowledge, grown leaps and bounds as a person, and settled into a new home. I cannot think of anything greater in life, nor could I ask for more. So this is it, my last entry. I have so very much enjoyed writing these posts, and I know that down the line, I will always be able to look back to them and remember just how astounding my time in Israel was. I will be back, hopefully sooner rather than later. But until then, I must say goodbye. Here’s to wishing that each semester can be as fruitful as my last one was and that each day can be just as fulfilling.
The End (of a life changing journey),
Zac
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