Archive for the ‘Travel Updates’ Category

Beheld in the Eyes of a Storm

Sunday, April 13th, 2014

Yesterday was a magical day. It would be easy to say it was because we saw some incredible things. We saw the Coliseum, the Roman Forums, Circus Maximus, and the Pantheon in a single day, but that wasn’t even what began to make this day so special. It was a collection of small moments of awe filled wonder that took my breath away with their sheer magnitude, even though the moments themselves were fleeting and gone in a blink of an eye. It was the very thing that ruined many peoples’ day that for me was the source of true majestic wonder. That thing, the ruiner of a tourist’s day, but the maker of epic grandeur that can even surpass the majesty of epic timeless wonders of history, was the weather.

Yesterday I survived my first Italian storm. Twice in one day, the storm created an evanescent moment of beauty that took my breath away.

Two of my roommates and I voyaged far from our home in Prati yesterday to go to Circus Maximus where we went on a guided tour of Ancient Rome, graciously led by one of the professors at my new university, Professor Corrado. It was sprinkling the whole hour walk over there, and when the tour began the real storm rolled in behind us. The sky darkened and the wind blew clouds past us so quickly it was almost frightening. Then as we were hearing about the old chariot track that Circus Maximus used to be, the torrential downpour began out of nowhere. We all quickly continued walking, huddling under umbrellas attempting in vain to stay dry as it began to rain even harder. The walk between Circus Maximus and the Coliseum was a crazed rush of pounding rain and lightning. Lightning struck right near us and thundered deeply in addition to the rain as we hurried to the Coliseum. Many people abandoned ship and left the tour for drier and warm places, but we decided to hang in there and continue despite the storm. Many tourists had left the area because of the storm, but we stayed and listened to a talk about the Coliseum in a brief hiatus of rain.

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We moved all around the ancient ruins, seeing one amazing monument or historical artifact after another that truly was impressive. But the moment that left me breathless came once the tour had finished, and we left behind the crowds for our walk home. Every day to get to class we not only pass the Vatican, we also must cross the Tiber River via a beautiful bridge that overlooks a grand castle. I say this casually, but the walk to and from school everyday is always a staggering event filled with amazing sights at every corner.

This day however, was a different day, this was the day of a storm. Just as we reached the bridge the storm broke for just a second overhead and sun shone through in the rain, creating a double rainbow perfectly arching from the river over the castle. With rain still falling and rippling the water of the great Tiber River below, but the sun shining brightly on the bridge and the castle beyond, it was astonishing. My housemate and I stopped in our tracks and just stared at it, not sure whether to take pictures or just bask in its beauty. We opted for photos so that we could prove that it had indeed happened since it was so magical.

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I felt like crying it was so beautiful, so perfect, so pristine and even though it was fleeting and gone in a matter of a few short minutes, it was a moment I will never forget. Pictures cannot capture the actual bewildering beauty of the moment and just how special it felt, but they will have to make due.

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The rainbows cut the sky in half, dividing into light and dark, the sky darkened with storm clouds, but the first rainbow seemed to cradle the castle below its multi-colored wing, covering it from the storm and casting light across it. Everything stood still in that moment, even the traffic had stopped because people had started stopping in the middle of the road to get out of their cars to take pictures of the beautiful scene.

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But just like that, it was gone. Faded back into darkness, a moment of color and light swallowed back up into the very storm that allowed it to exist.

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We continued on, shell shocked by how unbelievable the moment had been. We made our way to the Vatican after that because we had decided to attend 5:30 Holy Mass. Needless to say the Vatican was incredible, the marble exquisite and incredibly grand.

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The service was very interesting because it was all in Italian and I actually managed to understand most of it.

Ecco, l’agnello di Dio.

At the end of the service, it was again the storm that was the added detail of the day that struck my heart. The bolts of lightning that flashed outside illuminated the windows of the Vatican from the inside and the thundering claps that followed them shuddered the Vatican. As we left after the service a bolt of lightning fractured and split like the branches of a tree across the sky of Saint Peter’s Square followed by a huge clap of thunder.

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Humility; the subject of the sermon at the Vatican and subject of my day. I stood on the marbled steps of the Vatican, having just exited St. Peter’s Basilica and looked up at a sky lit up by electric fire. Nothing makes you feel small, humbled, and profound quite like lightning. Standing in a torrential downpour on the steps of the Vatican with our faces turned skyward beholding the natural wonders of a storm touching ground before a temple of God. Humble to my core. Being humbled by my experience in Italy, this amazing blessing I have been afforded. Being humbled by the amazing moments that I was lucky enough to have witnessed and been able to appreciate. Those precious fleeting moments that show the true Italy with the veil pulled back from its beautiful natural face even if it be the fierce face of a storm or the colors of a rainbow doubled in a dark sky. Bit by bit, I am beginning to know the face of Roma. Bella Roma, beheld in the eyes of a storm.

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Posted in Photos, Stories, Travel Updates |

Blurred Details

Sunday, April 13th, 2014

For this semester I am studying abroad in Rome Italy. I am posting on another blog, Luminosity, for my time abroad. I will try to transfer some of the posts back to this blog as well. Here is the beginning

The beginning of my journey is entirely devoid of details due to illness. I have been at a loss of words, profound or simple, to begin my story because the truth is that the beginning was a blur. Moments blending into each other like a careless hand swept across a precious pastel painting. Time lost, spaces jumped, a chaotic tumble of goodbye, luggage, security, waiting, boarding, plane rides, airports, waiting, waiting, airplanes, taxis and the list of jumbled images could continue. I have combed this mess of memory for the details, anything to lend light to how I somehow ended up in Rome, Italy when just a few short days ago I was home being pampered by my wonderful mother while horrible ill back in Santa Cruz, California.

For the lack of details, I will tell you what I can of how I ended up Rome in an amazing apartment, starting an amazing and insanely different life in a foreign country as a student. Bear with me on this minimalist and slightly incoherent account of my journey, I promise my writing won’t always be like what follows.

It began with food poisoning. The night before I was set to depart on the greatest adventure of my life. I have never had food poisoning myself, but I have helped many others who have had it because that is what happens when you have food poisoning, you are helpless. With my bags only half packed, and the journey set to start the next afternoon, this was the worst case scenario. Literally, it was my worst case scenario, well maybe one step down from my actual worst case, that being getting the worst of the food poisoning while sitting on the 11 hour flight to Frankfurt.

Utterly helpless. My saint of a mother, who I already miss dearly, saved the day a thousand times over, and when I said goodbye the next morning I wasn’t even able to properly thank her for everything because I was so out of it still. I couldn’t keep any food or water down and even managed to pass out at one point trying not to throw up. So yah, it was a great last day in America.

The time at the airport is still a strange blur of talking to all of my friends in Berkeley on the phone before I boarded, and how great it was to hear them all laughing, but how much I was going to miss them while I was gone. The plane ride was 11 hours of desperately trying to sleep since I had no energy, and no sleep the entire last day and managing to not really get any rest. I even managed to pass out on the airplane once since I hadn’t eaten any food in over 30 hours. Then Frankfurt, Germany, hello goodbye, danke bitte, board the plane in the freezing cold, almost there, almost there.

Then suddenly, we were there, waiting for luggage as I was dying in a chair, going on almost 40hrs without having eaten any food besides a few saltine crackers. In a blur of smoke we left the airport into the taxi area where I was slightly and deliriously convinced we were going to be kidnapped by an unmarked taxi cab. I then forgot how to speak English when trying to get a cab. But from then on there the taxi took us into Rome and it began to dawn on me that this was real and my first thought was, what have I gotten myself into? But then we reached the Centro Storico, or Historical Center of Rome and suddenly it was like all the post cards and travel book pictures of Rome. Then our taxi driver kicked us out on the curb, told me my bag was too heavy, and pointed us down a slightly sketchy looking alley way. My travel companion and future Rome roommate Elena and I were confused, exhausted but also excited. Dragging our exorbitantly large bags across cobblestones, which is extremely difficult to do, we found our study center where we will be taking our classes for the rest of the semester. They kindly gave us our keys and directions to our apartment. Let me just say, I had horrible images of worst case scenarios of dark, cramped, dank apartment buildings full of angry Italians and my gosh was I pleasantly proven wrong. Our apartment (aside from a few maintenance issues in the works) is amazing. We are in Prati, maybe five blocks away from the Vatican on the main street of Cola di Rienzo where there is a ton of upscale shopping.

I cannot begin to explain with what relief I crawled into my stiff ikea bed. That is, after Elena and I nearly slept walked down the street to a random supermarket to buy food in hopes of eating, which ultimately failed, only to return home with still empty bellies. I had never been so exhausted in my life. Empty of calories, no sleep, travel on travel on travel, and so much overwhelming chaos as well as amazingness was almost too much. I was blissfully happy, but deeply and thoroughly exhausted.

That is as detailed as I can manage on my travel to Rome. My arrival and adventure to get here in all of its delirious blurred glory. Only now am I starting to really regain clarity in the things I do. I can eat normally now, but am still easily exhausted and overwhelmed but so excited for what is to come. Ready to embrace this experience in all of its splendor and discover Rome as it truly is, not just as a postcard or a checklist of places to go and see. As I settle in more and experience life in Rome, I will be posting more and more of my first couple of days and everything that is to come.

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Sundays in the City: The Mission District

Monday, September 2nd, 2013

Every Sunday I go into the city of San Francisco to go to my home church, Reality SF. Located on the border of the Mission and Castro District, my church is central to some pretty cool things in the heart of San Francisco. Because I go weekly into San Francisco, I have decided to explore this giant city that is right across the bridge from Berkeley, yet seems a world away at the same time. Thus Sundays in the City is born as an effort of exploration and discovery outside of my Berkeley bubble.

For my very first Sunday in the City I decided to go on a Mural Walk in the Mission District. I had heard about an alley way called Balmy Alley that was supposed to be full of dazzling murals. However I made a few stops before heading deep into the heart of the Mission District. I visited Taqueria La Cumbre, a taqueria featured on the Food Network Show, Man vs Food for a carne asada burrito. Nothing special there, pretty standard. And of course the next thing on my mind was coffee, coffee, coffee. I soon learned that the original Philz, my all time favorite coffee shop, was only a mile and a half away from my church, so I decided it would be the next leg of my journey.

Located on 24th and Folsom, right near Balmy Alley, my final destination, I found the original Philz!

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This quirky coffee shop never fails to make my heart happy, and this one in particular was full of eccentricities. Every inch of wall painted in muralistic fashion from ballerinas to trees, floor to ceiling was covered in great paintings. I stopped inside for a break from walking and some studying. I was even luck enough to get a free Mocha Tesora due to a mix up in orders.

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After reading some Hemingway, I returned to the task at hand and departed to begin my exploration of the mission district. Wandering from bookstore to record store, Latino grocery stands, and all sorts of other interesting shops I kept an eye out for murals.

Then I found Balmy Alley, an expanse of street that was tiny but entirely covered in beautifully vibrant murals. Ranging from political and social protests in art to silly children’s murals, every inch of wall was covered in the vivid paint of these creative minds. This was my favorite view of the alleyway with the bold proclamation of REJOICE! watching from overhead. Between the dazzling murals and the flowers framing them, it was quite a sight to see.

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I wandered up and down the alley way several times just absorbing the color and the passion behind the brush strokes of each mural. It was astounding to see these works of art all of the place. It wasn’t just in the alley way either, it was all over the Mission District. Tucked away down quiet streets, bounding across the tall buildings’ walls, or on old decrepit wooden fences, they were everywhere.

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I had a lot of fun taking in all of the art but eventually I made the trek back to the bart station and sat exhausted but fulfilled the entire way back home to Berkeley. I found there is a grand difference between going to a place and getting to know it. I have been to San Francisco so many times but never truly dug down deep into the city to learn its outline like I am starting to now. Even though I encountered a couple of creepy, scary things (people being rude and creepy to me, a girl alone, wandering some of the sketchy streets of San Francisco unwittingly), it was still a great adventure and I wouldn’t change a thing.

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I love nothing more than exploring and discovering new things and after my first Sunday in the City I really am just hungry for new and more journeys out into San Francisco. There is so much to be seen, appreciated, and enjoyed that I cannot wait to return again and reclaim the pieces of my heart that I left scattered in the mysterious street corners of San Francisco. This last mural really spoke true to my heart and I cannot wait to go again.

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Hakone Gardens

Friday, August 16th, 2013

Summer is winding down to an end and with that is a serious of desperate attempts to fill the dwindling amount of time with as many adventures as possible. Today’s mini adventure was to the Saratoga Japanese Hakone Gardens, the oldest historical Japanese tea Garden on the west coast. This small expanse of tranquil land fashioned with Japanese Maple Trees, koi filled ponds, and bamboo gardens is a luxurious little escape from the everyday.

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On a clear hot day in the valley my mom and I explored just about every inch of the Hakone Gardens. The cascading waterfall was my favorite aspect of this little treasure.
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A bamboo forest encloses the walkway with swaying bamboo giants being blown back and forth by the wind.

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The Hakone Gardens were a great little mini adventure to have. I really enjoyed walking along the koi ponds and through the bamboo forest. Just one of a few mini adventures to come!

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Posted in Photos, Travel Updates |

Israel: From the Desert to the Holy City

Wednesday, April 10th, 2013

The night spent in the goatskin tent felt like an eternity, even though we actually slept for about 3 hours total due to our late night jam session. The ground was hard, the air cold and thin, but even through this, it was still a great feeling to wake up and feel surrounded by new-found friends. It really was after that night that I think we all stopped being people on a trip and became friends.

6am. Wake up call. Everyone slowly and regrettably rolling out of their sleeping bags and wandering with blurry eyes toward the bathrooms to try to reassemble our appearances for the coming day. A sea of girls packed the small bathrooms brushing teeth, doing makeup, brushing hair, trying to find all the articles of our clothing; it really made the entire morning process of preparation seem a fool’s errand so early in the morning and with no space to get ready.

Eventually I gave up trying to prep myself to look slightly human again and realized it was a failed effort. The darkness we had woken up to slowly altered itself as the great fiery ball that is the sun slowly lifted itself up from its hiding place to peek over the sandy mountain tops. The sand under my feet, the sounds of the camels and donkeys, and the slow progression of people toward the breakfast area was interrupted when the sun revealed itself. Everyone around me stopped to watch its steady ascent. It was magnificent, bathing the desert land in light, cascading over sand dunes to fill the valley with light.

It was a wonderful morning to be alive.

Breakfast was in a big tent and was very welcomed. Great food, real fresh goat cheese, all assortments of bread and fresh eggs along with their amazing tea. The tea was much needed again because the long night in the cold and the lack of sleep had ruined my health and I felt terrible. It felt like someone set my throat on fire and I could barely speak at all. As we all sat at the table making fun of my hoarse voice and enjoying the awesome Bedouin breakfast I felt something hit me. Looking up I saw a  couple of birds perched in the ceiling rafters and realized to my horror that I had just been pooped on by a bird. Horrified and everyone else laughing, I tried to figure out how to save my only outfit I had for the entire day ahead. Luckily I was able to get a new shirt but it was just such a comically horrifying moment.

After breakfast we all headed back to the buses which were bathed in the sunrise’s glow as well to continue our journey onward.

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At 7am we left camp and drove deeper into the desert valley winding our way past sand dunes on empty desert roads. We were headed to Masada, an isolated rock plateau atop a great desert mountain that overlooks the Dead Sea and the vast Judean Desert. This place was once the site of one of Herod’s great palaces which he greatly fortified, but fell under Roman siege ending with the tragic suicide of nearly a thousand jewish people to avoid enslavement at Roman hands. This tragic tale took place on top of this pillar of earth high above the desert earthen floor and we hiked up the Roman Ramp that had been built to over take the fortification

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We hiked up in the shadow of the mountain, only seeing the sun bathed desert light peaking around the sides of the great mesa. Coming out between stone pillars, which were thousands of years old to the flatten plain where once a great palace stood, bathed in early morning sunshine, was an amazing sight to see.

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Directly under the sun, even this early in the morning, had us all seeking out shade to learn more about this place.

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We talked for a while about the history of this place and then set out to wander along the ruins of this ancient place.

The world felt silent from up there, so high above the valley of the Judean Desert, it was one of my favorite experiences on the entire trip. The hot breeze lifting the dusty sand of ancient worlds to twirl around us as we plodded along. It felt like God was in the breeze, suspended in the air all around us, caught between the bricks of each ruined building.

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One amazing thing we went and saw was down some ancient worn steps into what used to be the water storage area; a great pit of a room with extremely high ceilings that we all walked down slanted steps to reach the bottom. Light poured in from the outside sunshine and illuminated the room in such a magical way, it was impossible not to feel awestruck.

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I stayed behind and lingered there in the bottom of that pit, placed my hand on the square of light let in through the hole high above me. It was an amazing feeling to touch the smoothed out stone that everywhere else felt so cold and hard, but right there where the light touched the ancient wall, was warmed by the sun.

After leaving the water storage area we went back out onto the plateau where we all sat in a huge circle and just meditated for a short while. We sat in silence, just listening and feeling the Israeli sun on our faces. I touched the ground and felt the sand run through my fingers, dusting them with archaic remnants of the past. Listening to the wind brush past us, you could almost hear God whispering in your ear. The wind felt like the breath of God, escaping like a sigh across this place so high above the ground.

When we opened our eyes from the meditation each person had a little envelope from their loved ones before them. We had some free time to go be alone, contemplate, and read our letters wherever we pleased. I sat curled up in a nook of the archaic ruins facing over the cliff side into the canyons far below.

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After I read my letter, I stood at the canyon’s edge and with a couple of other people, yelled over the sides of the plateau into the valleys below. Our voices were carried far away, filling the crevices of the canyons all around us. Lifted high by the wind, our voices rang out across the Judean Desert. It was crazy to see the power of our voices as they echoed around us.

Afterwards, before we descended via the Snake Path, which is a huge winding trial leading down the other side of the plateau, we all took a group picture, the first that included our lovely Israeli soldiers.

 

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The descent, which most people take a cable car to avoid, was one of the longest hikes I have ever experienced  It took an eternity to reach the bottom, but it was still an amazing trail to hike down. Once at the bottom we ate lunch in a cafeteria area. I am willing to admit I actually ate McDonald’s, just see what it was like and to my great surprise it was actually good. It was nothing like McDonald’s in America, it felt like real food, real burgers, not gross tiny hamburgers. It was huge and really tasty. While we waited for our bus we all played a giant game of ninja and a new game we learned the previous night called Sheep-a-Sheep. It was hilarious and a great way to wrap up our time at Masada

The Dead Sea was our next stop and one many of has been highly anticipating the entire trip; a chance to float in the Dead Sea’s salty waters. This place is the lowest elevation in the entire world at 423 meters below sea level. So we all excitedly went to change into our bathing suits and ran down to the beach for a float. This experience was not at all what I expected it to be.

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The color of the water was a beautiful green and blue, which contrasted wonderfully with the red and orange rocks on the shore. The first difficulty we encountered was actually getting into the water itself. It seems benign enough in the pictures, but what you don’t see in this picture are the salt deposits covering every rock, making sharp crystalline structures that just love to shred feet if you aren’t careful.

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This is a more accurate display of what it looked like and felt like walking barefoot on these rocks and trying to make it into the water as waves were splashing against our wobbly legs. Once in the water and off our feet, which were now on fire from the salty water getting into the numerous cuts on our feet, we felt the bizarreness that is the Salt Sea.

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Everything you hear about the Dead Sea is true; it is bizarrely salty. It feels like gravity has been reversed or you are floating on air. You have to float on your back and once you do it is such a weird experience. It feels like nothing you ever have felt before.

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It was really very fun to paddle around and float with everyone out in the water.

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However, the salt that makes the Dead Sea such a cool experience is also your worst enemy. The very first thing they told us getting off the bus was, whatever you do, don’t put your head under water or get water in your eyes or mouth. I don’t think I understood how very serious they were. Within moments of being out in the water my lips were covered in crusted salt and everyone could tell something was weird about the water. The water was slightly wavy and would splash little bits of the water on our faces and it burned, literally burned. You couldn’t rub the hurt from your eyes because your hand were covered in the water. There was nothing to do if you got even the tiniest splash on your face. People had to get back on shore and wash out their eyes in a serious way. Most people didn’t even stay in the water very long because the waves kept getting the salt in people’s’ eyes. After a short while everyone was out of the water with bloodied feet and burning eyes. The medic really had her hands full bandaging people’s feet.

It really is an amazing example of the beauty and danger of nature. It was extraordinarily beautiful and I am so glad I did it but everyone was pretty ready to get very far away from the water after only a short while.

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We all ran to the showers to get the burning salt off and headed back to the bus with new battle wounds but satisfied in having this very cool, if not slightly disastrous experience. Once back on the bus one of our peers actually passed out because he got so dehydrated from the salt. It is funny looking back on how much of a disaster it actually was, but I don’t regret it for even a single moment.

Tired from the already really long day (remember we had been up since 6am after a 3am bed time) and having hiked in the heat, swam in the salt, we were all pretty exhausted. However we had no time to rest, Jerusalem, the Holy City was out next destination.

We arrived in Jerusalem on a hill that rose above Jerusalem and from it we could survey the whole city. At the overlook we were greeted with a huge welcoming party along with many other Birthright buses. There were drummers who gathered our attention by blowing on horns made out of actual horn. They began to sing and drum as everyone stood and watched; their shadows cast on the ground around their feet.

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It didn’t take long for everyone to join in singing and dancing in a giant circle around the drummers a top a mountain that felt like the seat of the world in the holy city of Jerusalem.

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After the short festivities were over, the dancing and singing stopped and we were officially welcomed to Israel and Jerusalem by the breaking of Challah and sharing it between every single one of us as we watched the sun set over Jerusalem.

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To stand above the city of Jerusalem at last, after coming so far, and having seen so many things already, I could feel my heart expanding knowing: I had made it to Jerusalem. We could see the Dome of the Rock in the distance and the Western Wall (Kotel) along with all the winding labyrinthine streets that created the thatch work masterpiece that is this holy city.

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The very first thing we did in Jerusalem was go and visit one of the expansive open air markets. It was a truly amazing experience. It is one of my all time favorite things to visit market places in destinations that I have never visited before because it provides such an intriguing glimpse into the actual essence of this newfound place.

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We all split up with about an hours time to explore wherever we pleased throughout the giant market place, which was a series of intersecting streets about four streets wide. I split off with Plia and my friend Tia to explore. Since Plia, being from Israel and having visited this very same market several times,  knew exactly where to go, what to see, and what food to eat.

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She was a fantastic guide and made the experience so much more special than it already was, being able to watch these Israeli natives communicate in Hebrew together. One of the very first things Plia showed us was Halva; an odd sesame snack that is kind of like a flaky fudge that has a large variety of flavors. This picture below which looks reminiscent of cheese is actually a large variety of flavors of Halva ranging from coffee, chocolate, cinnamon, poppy seed, orange, vanilla, and all kinds of flavors.

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She even showed us this wonderful character, the Halva King who runs this stand. He is there almost every day wearing his little crown handing out samples of his Halva. It was so interesting and something I had never experienced. I loved Halva (I even brought back some with me to the United States) but it really is something you either love or hate. It is very difficult to relate it to anything I have ever had before, it is just Halva.

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We wandered the streets of the market listening to the vendors yelling out about their wares, Plia occasionally translating so we could understand. Each stand was full of so many amazing things from pastries, to spices, to tea, or trail mixes. There were numerous candy stands selling all sorts of chocolates or suckers.

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Plia took us a little off the beaten track and showed us her favorite place at the market; a tiny little coffee shop down one of the side alleyways which she said had some of the best hot chocolate around. It really was some amazing hot chocolate, all three of us got some and it was one of the richest things I have ever tasted. It had at least three little chocolate bars melting at the bottom fo the cup. It was nice having this brief little glimpse into her world.

As we were leaving the alleyway a tiny restaurant was handing out free samples and they basically chased us down trying to give us free food because they could tell we were americans. We finally agreed and the food was not only amazing but the people were hilarious. They asked us where we were from, both Tia and I said California and suddenly the owner just disappeared. We were a little confused and worried we had offended him when suddenly he comes running back and the speakers of the restaurant start blasting out Californication by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. It was hilarious and I really wished we could have stayed and eaten there but we were running out of time. So we walked away from the market with Californication filling the market streets behind us.

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It was a truly incredible experience and it felt like we really got a taste of life in Jerusalem. We all reluctantly came back together and late at night drove to our hotel which would be our home for the rest of the trip. The hotel was gigantic, called Rimonim (means pomegranate  but we were all too tired to really care. We got our new roommate assignments and went upstairs to sleep after one of the longest days of my life but also one of the best.

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Israel: The Bedouin Experience

Wednesday, March 27th, 2013

This day marked the end of the first leg of our journey in Israel. We woke up early, bags packed, and lined up on the curb like children waiting to board the school bus for their first day of class. We ate our last breakfast at Nof Ginosaur and watched the waves lap on the beach, our last sight of the Sea of Galilee. It was a sad and exciting moment to leave behind the place we had called home for the last three days in order to branch out and find a new home in Israel. We had one stop on the way before out final destination for the day could be reached; we had eight new members to pick up and join our merry crew.

Everyone knew that at some point in the trip we would be joined by eight Israeli soldiers who would accompany us on our trip to give us a little taste of what life is like in Israel for people our age. They were not coming to protect or guard us, they were coming to be our friends and peers. At first I was a little wary of this, I wasn’t sure what it would be like, whether we would get along, or whether we would really connect at all. What I didn’t know was how much I was going to miss them by the time they left, or how much I miss them still. I never expected to grow so close to people whom I had gotten to know in the span of five days, but I do.

We picked them up at Modin, a modern booming city that is rapidly expanding. At a bus stop around the corner from where we parked, our newest friends waited for us. Full uniforms and army bags, they came onto our bus and very quickly changed our entire experience. We all tried to welcome them as much as possible and talk with them.

We only where with them for a few short minutes when we went to our first stop of the day, an Eco-Farm that is entirely sustainable and zero waste. Everything here is grown and nothing is thrown away. We stopped in this green little oasis full of rows of farming and little huts where people lived. We toured all over the place and even got to make some homemade pita bread on an open fire.

We had some free time so we all wandered around the farm by ourselves and could check anything out that we wanted to see. I wandered off to go to the recycling tent where people leave belongings they no longer want so that others may utilize them as they desire. The tent was dark and not lit but it was in this room where the lives of people where left behind when people grew tired of their old hobbies or old books. A tent full of things brought from all over the world and later no longer desired or useful. I leafed through the discarded  books and found a copy of a Nadine Gordimer short story collection that I tucked away and took away with me. A little piece of literature that had been abandoned in Israel, picked up and brought to a new home across the world.

When we left the farm our conversations with the soldiers really began. Our first real experience with them was trying to play musical chairs… on a moving bus. As everyone ran around laughing our bus driver was yelling at us in Hebrew and it was so much fun but a little dangerous. As we were playing we began to hit windy roads which marked the changing of our surroundings. When we finally found our places again we looked out our windows where there were no rolling green hills any more, instead they had been replaced with deep desert valleys and sand dunes. Scene after scene of desert barren lands brushed by our bus windows for about an hour before we found ourselves descending into a valley surrounded by sand dunes. As we did we could see all sorts of little villages that we were told were from refugees and illegal immigrants who had set up settlements in the desert. Children sat on sand dunes and wild dogs roamed the desert, watching as we went by in our air-conditioned bus. It was an odd unsettling feeling that provoked the ever present feeling that maybe things are not as fair as we wish they could be.

We made our way down winding desert roads to a small oasis surrounded by palms. This would be our station for the night, the Bedouin encampment in the middle of the desert. As our bus pulled in we looked at the stables of camels and donkeys on the outskirts of the encampment that were fenced in with giant tree trunks of palms.

We dragged all of our luggage from the bus and left it aside for later. We had our introduction to the Bedouin experience in a goat hair tent roofed with palm leaves.

Standing above a fragranced fire, we were told about what it meant to be a bedouin. The wandering nomadic lifestyle that was lived by these extremely hospitable people who lived out in the desert in places somewhat like this. The entire time though we were all painfully aware that this “Bedouin Experience” we were able to take part in was at its very foundation nothing like real Bedouin life.  This was a comfy tourist “resort” that aimed at a genuine experience of Bedouin life that could never really get close to the way these people live their lives.

Hospitality and generosity towards visitors was highly important. As we sat listening attentively on the floor we were served tea that was made on the fire right before us. It was probably the best and most interesting tasting tea I had ever been lucky enough to taste. It was also really welcomed because at this point I was getting really sick and my sore throat was killing me. I had basically entirely lost my voice, so to have some hot tea was soothing in the best ways possible.

After our introduction to our Bedouin Experience, we went back out to the front of the encampment where we had previously seen the camels and donkeys.

I got camel number 47; a wily, dusty creature that seemed none too pleased to have something sitting on top of it. As I was perched atop the seated camel I was looking about taking pictures with my camera which I held uplifted in one hand and my other I used to hold the harness on the camel. I was extremely unprepared when our guide smacked the camel and it stood up, but not all the way up mind you, just halfway. So I found myself suddenly sitting at a forty-five degree angle with only one hand to brace me for the sudden jolt. I was nearly tossed over my camel’s head as it remained happily only halfway up with its back legs straightened and its front still neatly folded underneath him. After nearly being tossed within five minutes of sitting on my camel, it finally stood up and I was able to experience what it felt like to ride one of these ships of the desert.

Not another five minutes went by before he tried to bite me. It really didn’t like me and I can’t say I was too pleased with him either. Keep in mind, I am afraid of horses, little did I know how much scarier these swaying creatures of the desert where than horses.

After a rough start we all lined up and headed out into the desert at sunset. The swaying steps of the camels really do make their nicknames, “ships of the desert” seem extremely accurate.

We were led out into the rocky desert hills near where we would be staying for the night as the sky slowly turned pink. The horizon seemed to be lit on fire and the stones cast shadows around us as we made our way into the desert.

I forgot to mention that only half of the group was on camels, the other half got to ride small donkeys. The plan was to switch halfway through so everyone had a turn on a camel. Let me just say, things didn’t go as planned. Within ten minutes of our journey into the desert, which, by the way, was not a long journey, half of the people on the donkeys had been bucked from their backs. The donkeys went crazy and after ridding themselves of their burdens decided to wander off into the desert alone. After the difficultly with the donkeys, which were significantly smaller, those who were on the donkeys decided that the much larger and scarier camels where not worth the effort if the donkeys had been this difficult. So I got to remain on my perch high above the desert floor as my camel swayed its way across the desert floor.

As for the others, they decided to walk. The donkeys went their own way and wandered free of their burden off into the sunset.

Our time out in the desert was not very long at all but it was still a great experience to ride a camel into the sunset and watch the pink tint of the sun touch the desert hills.

It is nice to say I have done it, but I don’t think I would ever do it again. So I will leave the camels to the desert and the tourists still seeking the allure of a specifically tourist crafted experience that really only means something to them.

We returned to the encampment for dinner inside the bedouin tents. Mats were laid out everywhere with stands that would later hold our food. We each sat at tables with about four other people and had what felt like private little dinners in a giant tent filled with masses of people. It was a lot of fun getting to know everyone over an amazing bedouin feast.

After dinner we had free time for the rest of the night which resulted in a guitar and mandolin jam session until about three in the morning. Before that though, we had one little excursion to end our bedouin experience out in the desert. It was easily the most meaningful experience I had the entire trip.

Once it got really dark out and dinner had finished we all wandered out into the desert in a giant group. In near silence we headed out into the dark; blind in the utter darkness without a single shred of light, since the moon was not up. Those with flashlights were clung to like bats by the others trying to use any bit of light to see the rough desert terrain we were traversing. I was one of those with a flashlight and my companion was my friend Plia who was one of the Israeli soldiers who had joined us. I talked with her as we walked about the stars in the night that seemed to be the only thing we could see clearly in the dark. We had a great conversation breathed in hushed tones as we walked through the desert. Finally we made our way deep enough into the desert to lose sight of the lights from the encampment (but sadly not far away enough to lose the sound of tacky music being blasted from a party that was happening back where we were staying). So in (almost) complete silence, we individually found places in the dark to sit and just contemplate life, think about the trip so far, and wonder at the beauty of the desert. Plia and I sat together and lay down on our backs, even with rocks digging into our spines, and peacefully watched the stars. I pointed our constellations to her as we lay there talking. To both of our utter surprise as I was pointing out a constellation a shooting star shot across the sky right where I had been pointing. It was such a movie perfect moment, neither of us really seemed to believe it had happened. We both just turned to each other in the dark and smiled, our eyes asking each other where we had both just seen that actually happen. I can’t explain how much that little moment filled my heart with a warmth and happiness that seemed unbounded.

We split up to have quiet time and I saw yet another shooting star by myself later as I sat looking up at the sky and the desert that was bathed in a deep blue that I feel can only be found in the darkest, deepest parts of the sea. There was truly something magical about just sitting out in the desert near midnight in utter silence. This sand, these rocks, these stars, had seen a history on this soil that I couldn’t even begin to imagine. IT was here, out in this desert that Jacob wrestled with God, here out in this desert that thousands of years of history had unfolded. Even though all we could see was the darkness and the hardly lit landscape before us, that space was not empty, it was full to the brim. It was overwhelming to sit under the canopy of heaven and feel like the stars where so close that they were bending the sky in an effort to reach out and touch you. Never have I felt such a connection to the land before; it was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

After our quite time we all where summoned back together by our group leader Itay playing the guitar and singing a Neguin wordless song of praise. It seemed to resonate in the desert and as we all slowly got back together, everyone seemed to know that everything had changed. Everyone had felt something amazing in those moments, each in their own special way. We all gathered together and made a huge huddle around Itay and we sang out in the desert together. Our voices breaking the silence and reaching out across the land. We sang in Hebrew, we sang wordless songs, and eventually worked our way to cheesy American pop music. It was a wonderful progression from the serious and contemplative time we had had, back into a fun and carefree enjoyment of one another’s company. We sang out in the desert at the top of our voices to American Pie, Brittany Spears, and many other songs. With the lighthearted end to our desert quiet time we returned to the encampment renewed and with hearts filled with our experiences.

Back at our tents we continued the lighthearted singing in a jam session. It was so much fun to just stay up all night, singing, having deep conversations, and really getting to know each other besides the normal introductory questions we had been building our friendships upon. It was a night I will never forget.

We slept on the floor of a giant goat skin tent in sleeping bags for only a few short hours. The next morning was a six am wake up call and a long day ahead. It was a bittersweet end to the night; such a great time staying up with everyone, but the lack of sleep that followed would come back to bite me for the rest of the trip.

 

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Israel: Mountains and Mysticism

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

In the early morning aftermath of our New Year’s Eve Party, everyone slowly emerged, none too happily at that. All of us with little sleep and bleary eyes. It was a hard time to be waking up at 6:30am when you didn’t go to bed until around 2am that morning. Regardless, we struggled out of bed and greeted the first day of the New Year with half-tempered smiles and curious minds for the day ahead.

We took the bus through Tiberias and wove our way up a mountain called Mt. Arbel.

The view from the top of this mountain was magnfiicent, though a little hazy, but still many things could be seen. The Sea of Galilee far below, our hotel in the distance, tiny towns speckling the hills, and lots of greenery. The wind blasting at our backs led us down to the way we would be following that would eventually take us to the ruins of an old fortress built into the mountainside.The descent was much more difficult than I had imagined and it felt like we were going down forever. We had to scramble down rocky cliff faces and at all times could see the countryside around us backed by the Sea of Galilee.

Eventually we made it though and came to a leveling out in our descent down Mt. Arbel where the cliffs now towered over us. Looking up at the cliffs you could see the ruins of what once had been windows, rooms, and a fortress in days long gone by.

Then we climbed up uneven stone stairs to enter into the old fortress that was crumbling but still grand. After going into the cliff dwellings, we descended the rest of the mountain. We all walked down the mountain in great contemplation, deciding not to talk with anyone, we all descended in utter silence except for the loud noise from the town below and the sound of the wind rushing past the mountainside. We went down the entire mountain until we reach the cities that just about an hour or so before hand had seemed tiny and extremely distant. It seemed remarkably to have come that far, to look back up at the whole mountain knowing I had been at the top of it. It felt like so much had been accomplished; and it was only 10am.

Next on our trip was the legendary cit of Tzfat, home to Jewish mysticism of Kabbalah. We wove through the streets of this old city, only stopping briefly before an old British Embassy building hat was riddled with bullet holes. It was in moments like this that Israel really did seem like an entirely different world. A world where it was casual to sit in the shade of a war torn building as if it was a wide shaded oak that we took a brief rest under in the bright afternoon.

Everywhere there are little moments where a single thing, a teapot, a doorway, or a bullet torn building that made this experience feel so surreal.

Tzfat is a city of alley ways, closed doors, and art. All fo the small corridors that people bustle down are lined with tables of jewelry, art, and all kinds of artisan creations. Every other doorway houses a gallery of beautiful art that often harkens back to Jewish mysticism.

After a long day of exploring the city streets of Tzfat, jumping between art galleries and trying out unique foods, we wandered through the market areas that tingled with the ideas of Jewish mysticism. After exploring a bit we found our way to the top of the mountain Tzfat is built upon. We stood in a park that held the ruins of an old citadel, long left to waste away under the pressure of time. It was here we learned about a Jewish idea, Tikkun Olam- repairing the world. Tikkun Olam is the idea that we all have a responsibility to try and fix the world we live in to make it a better place; whether that means doing community service, teaching, or any other form of helping the world, we have a responsibility  We came to this place to take part in our responsibility in trying to restore this old citadel by trying to re-establish this place as a park for the people of Tzfat.

As the sun set over Tzfat we all got together and learned a couple of songs on the mandolin and learned what it felt like to belong in a Jewish community. It really was an amazing moment; bathed in shades of pink and yellow, we all felt like a family.

It was a long day, started early, hiked, worked, explored, but it was a truly a great day.

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Israel: A New Place, A New Year

Thursday, January 24th, 2013

On the eve of a new year, I began my newest adventure in the land of Israel. Sleepless night turned into tired morning as the sun wiggled its way under my door. Being jet lagged is never fun, but when you open your door and feel the Israeli sun on your face for the first time, many things are forgotten. I opened the door to a clear crisp sun on a slightly hazy day that seemed to have been sung in by birdsong.

Breakfast was in the same room where we had eaten dinner the night before and the contrast was shocking. The things that we had heard were outside those windows, but couldn’t see for ourselves was now splayed before us in all its splendor. Palm trees and eucalyptus trees swayed in the wind outside of our window, framing the Sea of Galilee and the umbrella spotted beach where the waves crashed down in a slow rhythmic fashion. Hills surrounded us with cities terracing the mountainsides.

The hotel was just the beginning though, it would be our home for the next couple of days, but during the day we would adventure outward and explore Northern Israel. So we hopped on our bus to begin our first day in Israel.

Through the tinted glass of the windows inside the bus I got my first views of the Israeli countryside. In the north, rolling hills and mountains frame the land with their snow-capped tips, which looking down on rows of agricultural countryside in the valleys below. After a ride through the farmlands we arrived at the base of a huge mountain which is now a nature reserve but many, many years ago this was the biblical city of Tel Dan. At Tel Dan, there is a river, the main spring, that comes from the mountain that rushes along tree framed pathways.

It was a beautiful time to be at Tel Dan, fall was still in the air even though winter had made itself a guest here for some time, and the leaves were still yellow. We walked along the paths of Tel Dan that ranged from walkways littered with fall leaves, to pathways made up of individual rocks between which spring water ran, snaking its way between the cracks.

Along the pathways we found beautiful leaves, some in the shape of hearts and others that were large and fan like that came from fig trees all around us.

 

Finally at the end of the beautiful walk through the wilderness we came to the ruins of Tel Dan. Not much left besides the old crumbling foundations of this biblical city that thousands of years ago was a thriving center of religious activity; second only to Jerusalem in its time.

 

We took our very first group photo of all of us together at the foot of the Main Spring. It was a truly beautiful place and the yellow accent of fall leaves made it a magical first stop in Israel.

Afterwards we drove deeper into the Golan Heights of Israel where we took an off-road jeep ride through the old occupied land that was and still is a place of tension.

Our jeep driver was a really nice guy with an odd sense of humour who really seemed to enjoy entertaining American kids with off colored jokes and sarcastic quips.

We traversed the eucalyptus spotted hillsides along muddy gutted back roads in an open aired jeep where there was no separation between us and the Israeli countryside.

Oh and the beautiful countryside we were driving through was also an old land mine area. We were let out of the jeep once and they told us not to venture far for fear of land mines. It was quite an interesting experience being in what some might consider an active war zone.

If being near where old land mines were once was a startling experience, then I was not prepared for our next stop, Mt. Bental. Mt. Bental is a huge mountain, once a volcano, that has an amazing view from high above the world. Standing atop it we could see Damascus, Syria, and Lebanon. As the sign below indicates, from here, on a clear day almost anything can be seen.

The view of the countryside below is Syria. While standing atop Mt. Bental we could hear loud bangs in the distance. We quickly learned that not far away we were hearing the sound of bombs going off in Syria because of their current civil war. It was shocking to be that close to a very active war zone, to hear the ear drum rattling sound of a bombs impact. It makes me shudder, wondering what happened when we heard those sounds from so far away. What about the people who were not as lucky as us to be far away? The people who live there, the people who die there? But here we were sitting atop a mountain, listening to what could very well have been the last sound that some person ever heard in their lives.

In the biting wind we stood at the top of Mt. Bental listening to the sounds of war ring out, it was something you don’t forget.

After Mt. Bental we returned to our hotel at the shores of the Sea of Galilee for an early preparation for the New Years Eve Party. We were all exhausted, I was getting sick, but we all went out for a talk by the shore. A great blue heron stood on a pole of the pier and the sun was setting in shades of soft pinks and purples as we listened to the gently lapping waves of the Sea of Galilee.

It was an extremely peaceful moment of reflection, waiting for the new year to roll in on our heels. The history of this place is unbelievable, astounding, and awe-inspiring. The shore was littered with tiny shells and glinted like secret treasures as I sifted this foreign sand through my fingers. This was my new years, spent in a land utterly foreign to me, yet vaguely felt like home. I never imagined I would be spending my last days of 2012 in Israel, let alone the first week of 2013 there. It was a strange bridging of the gap that was utterly unexpected yet invigorating. This new place, opened new horizons, and I welcomed the new year with open arms with no idea of what lies before me.

 

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Israel: The Beginning of a Journey

Sunday, January 13th, 2013

Whenever I return home from a trip there is always a barrage of questions awaiting me from everyone I know. I love to return to family and friends that are inquisitive and curious about my experiences, but I always feel a sense of disappointment in my ability to answer their questions. How can I put into words so quickly the things that I saw? How can I explain the ways in which I have been changed by the things that I saw? How can I convey the beauty and complexity that fills the world that we live in and how grateful I am for even a short glimpse into these complexities? This is what I am faced with upon my return from any trip, but I feel these things especially now after my return from Israel.

I was extremely blessed to be given the opportunity to go to Israel for almost completely free with a group of my peers from University of California Berkeley through Hillel and Taglit Birthright. I got to fly out of New York to Israel and tour around the country for ten days with about 50 of my peers including eight Israeli soldiers who joined us halfway through our incredible journey.

So, now I am faced with the problem that I always dread upon my return home, telling my story of what happened during those ten amazing days. It is difficult expressing all that happened on my trip because it was truly incredible in so many ways. I made so many friends and saw such amazing things that I do not think any words that I use can do justice to everything I experienced. But I will do my best, I will do all that the limit of words can do for me.

To begin? Let’s start where I did with an alarm going off at 3:30 am of the day my journey began. The day was long with travel, 3:3o wake up, flight left at 7:30am, 6 hour flight to JFK, 8 hour lay over, and then finally a 12 hour flight that landed us in Ben Gurion Airport, Israel. From there a two hour bus ride to the hotel/kibbutz that would be our home for the first leg of the journey.

We arrived, after over 24 hours of traveling, at the shores of the Sea of Galilee at our hotel, Nof Ginosar. It was strange because I had been in darkness, without sunlight, for over a day and arriving at our hotel we were told of the surroundings. Told of hills that shone with the glittering lights of homes scattered along hillsides in nearby Tiberias. Told of the softly lapping waves on the shores just outside from the great Sea of Galilee. Told of many things, but we arrived in darkness. There was nothing to see, we could only faintly hear in the distance the rustle of palm trees and ever so slightly the sound of waves. But we were greeted by darkness and the glow of our hotel’s lights. We were rushed into dinner and saw our hotel for the first time. I was very pleasantly surprised by our hotel, I had had very low expectations for our accommodations because we were receiving them for free, but it was extremely pleasant. We all stumbled in, not really knowing one another, tired, exhausted from travel, and just a little disheveled from our long day, and were greeted by a huge buffet of Israeli food. Everything was so bright, colorful salads, curries, and lots and lots of bread. Famished and tired we ate and began to familiarize ourselves with this new place and one another.

We all headed to our shared rooms in the dark dragging our luggage behind us, ready for sleep. Ready to greet the new day tomorrow. Our very first day in Israel.

 

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Day Eleven: The End

Friday, June 29th, 2012

We made it. I am writing this post from my grandmother’s library where I will be staying for about the next three weeks. After eleven long days of waking up at five in the morning and going to bed at about eleven at night and over 4700 miles later, we are in our home away from home in Bootjack, Michigan.

We spent the entire first half of our day having an amazing time on Mackinac Island. We took the ferry boat across Lake Huron over to the small island where we toured around for several hours. Since we did one of the earlier tours we got to actually go on the ferry underneath the Mackinac Bridge, the largest suspension bridge in the USA. The wind was biting and the spray from the waves was really cold as it splashed all over me and my camera but the view was spectacular. The water was almost more amazing than the bridge itself. One of my favorite things about Michigan are the lakes. Lake Superior is my all time favorite, but Huron was beautiful. The deep greens and blues that cast a gradient of color for all to see was stupendous to behold.

When we reached the island we decided to walk instead of rent bikes because no vehicles are allowed on the island. Only horse drawn carriages and bikes are allowed on the island making for an antiquated but lovely atmosphere for the entire island.

However, since everything was so expensive we were indeed limited in what we could do including not being able to go into Fort Mackinac. However, we recieved an awesome tip from a woman who told us to go behind the art museum where there was a children’s park and a very well disguised set of stairs. The very long set of stairs wove into the forests and high up the hills until we came out on top which supplied an amazing overlook of the island right next to the fort which we could see right into.

 

We even got to see the canon demonstration, where they loaded and fired a canon from the fort. It was very cool, but loud.

Behind the Fort we found amazing wide open fields that we had some fun with as we made our way across the island.

We continued on the wooded pathway all over the island eventually ending up at the famous Grand Hotel, which is so highclass that you are not even allowed to walk around it without a ten dollar fee. Also, no shoulders showing, and no pants for women. It was really quite odd. It did have a nice porch though with lines of rocking chairs overlooking the lake.

Since lunch was too expensive at the Grand we headed back to main where we had lunch at an excellent burger joint called Chuckwagons. It was a tiny little alleyway of a room jammed with chairs and people. We sat at the bar looking right at the grill which supplied all the food for the entire place, which in itself was amazing. The chef and I am assuming owner was working it and he was a constant blurr of action. It seemed like he never stopped, a fine tuned burger making machine. I got the rodeo burger which was sublime but messy. Served on a pretzel bun, these burgers where home made and cooked right in front of our eyes. It was entertaining and delicious. Highly recommended, especially with the price compared to the Grand, which I am sure was not nearly as good as this place.

We also had to stop and buy the famous Mackinac Island Fudge, this little island is known for its rich fudge and there are literally dozens of shops all over the island claiming to be the best. With a lot of contestation about which is best, we naturally had to try several.. which meant a lot of fugde sampling and a very high sugar overload when we were done. After sampling a couple of places I decided that Joann’s Fudge is definitely the best. Their sea salt caramel fudge is amazing and rich with that nice salty bit to counteract the powerful sweetness. Not only was the fudge good but the place was cute, the servers friendly and in my opinion most importantly good at giving samples. They were extremely generous in their samples and made sure you really had a taste for which ever fudge you were thinking about tasting. It was quite the adventure and we really enjoyed ourselves on this beauitful, sunny day in Michigan on the Great Lakes.

We did have to move on and take the ferry back sadly but we kept getting waylaid by more beautiful and interesting things before we even left town. We found a beautiufl beach spot to play around in the sandy beaches and clear waters as well as a magnificent lighthouse right at the foot of the bridge.

But after the crossing of the bridge it was a straight shot to our final destination. We had our eyes on the prize and except for a brief pasty stop, which is always worth it, we headed to our home away from home.

It is so nice to be here again, I quite literally wait all year until I can come back here. I am staying in my grandfather’s home right on the lake where I will be doing my writing and hopefully some good research from my grandmother’s old collection of amazing books. So now starts a new (more relaxed) adventure in Michigan.

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