A Week of Firsts: Locating the Road

In every journey, there is a period of time when the fact that you are in a different place completely escapes you.  Until then nothing seems audaciously uncommon and things continue to feel routine or familiar.  This is not necessarily a bad thing, in fact it may be a coping mechanism to deal with something so completely new, and perhaps terrifying.  The problem is, it also takes away some of the extra pleasure that could otherwise be had.

Sitting on a mattress on the top of a sky scraper with a few friends and light music playing is a fantastic experience.  When you add to it that it is February, you are in shorts, and you are more than 5,670 miles (9,125 km) from the places you grew up, it becomes a much more memorable event, rather than a mesh of memories from numerous occasions.

Rosh HaShana is beginning of a new year.  New opportunity, new chances, new life.  It's a very fitting time to cast off what was formerly my occupation and step into what may be my inspiration.  I am in pursuit of my own story, a journey that began some time ago with subtle revelations only manifesting themselves slowly, with deliberate caution.  Who I am, where I am going, questions such as these I continue to ask, but the answer is always changing.

I spent Erev Rosh Hashana with a group of friendly people.  I consider them to be akin to my own family, and they truly are.  I am fortunate and considered myself blessed to have met them while I was on that MASA program something over a year past.  The evening gathering consisted of Sabba and Safta, their children, and more.  To avoid going into detail, and suffering from distracting confusion, suffice it to say that it was a large gathering. The table was full, the glasses never empty, the conversation fresh and the company simply wonderful.  Not to mention that the food was absolutely delicious.  Loaves of challah, bowls of soup and salad and many, many more.  Before I even made it to the main course I was full.  But then came the lamb and the chicken, the wonderful aromas begging "Try me, try me!"  I had to oblige.

Following a night of so much food, I needed to follow do something active the next day.  There is no gym at the hostel, I have never heard of one which did but I would love to see it, so I went for a nice early morning run.  Heading west can only get you so far before you are faced with an ocean in your path.  I'm not sure why I headed south, but I did.  At the southern end of  Tel Aviv is Yafo, a largely Arabic community inhabiting an ancient port city.  In a town where the majority of business has shut down for the holiday, it's quite a change to run through the port and see old men fishing, small boats pulled up to the dock and the men selling fish and handing them out of the boat.

It wasn't until the return leg of my run, when i realized i was doing something completely out of the ordinary.  I was running through a city inhabited for over nine thousand years, through a port city older than any in the United States.  And I was just working out.  By this time in the morning, there were people everywhere, biking, running and fishing along the coastline pathway.  There was a family having its picture taken on a horse, and families having a picnic by the beach.

I do not mean to infer by this that I am in anyways a native already, desensitized to the wonders about me.  Rather, I intend to stress that I'm just starting to process everything I've been taking in.  There has been a lot that has happened before and since, and in a sense, I'm still processing it in manageable pieces.

Not only has there been Israeli experiences, but at the hostel it has been a wonderful mix of people.  I was very fortunate to meet a group of quite amazing travelers volunteering in Israel, doing good deeds just because.  Part of the group was American but the majority were from Finland.  Along with very generous hearts and a bunch of new words I tried to learn (Mita mita?  Moi!), they also had Salmiakki and Turkish Pepper.  Very interesting treats; however, I have to admit I do not think I would eat it again unless offered.  They may only be one group of the fantastic people I have met, but it is one of the reasons I travel; finding inspiring individuals who just cause me to smile and feel good.  I just want to say, thank you.

There are a few other things I might try to touch on in the next entry; the wonderful hummus and schwarma, how the owner of the hostel took a group out to hummus and felafel, but to prevent this from becoming a short story, I would like to finish with the first week of school.

The campus is quiet and small, like any school in summer.  I've been told once the year actually begins, there are over six thousand students, and it will be quite crowded.  I haven't seen much aside from the one lecture hall where both of my classes take place, but I don't think I am missing much.  I look forward the start of classes in earnest, partly to be done with these four-hour long pre-requisites, though both of the professors seem pretty nice.  The people I am studying with have all so far been wonderful people, open and easy to speak with.

Seeing as how I am taking a course in statistics, I thought I might close with a simple survey.  This entry has gone on for quite a bit, and towards the end I grew weary if anyone would want to soldier on to the end.   I would like it if everyone fills out a comment indicating if you prefer longer, broader and in depth entries, or if you would prefer  shorter entries confined fewer topics.  I would encourage you to use a guest account because I would also like to ask you to indicate your gender and age and we'll see if there are any patterns.