Saturday, May 28, 2011

The End of the Road

Well readers, it's been an unbelievable year filled with life-changing experiences. This week was no exception.

As some of you know, I live on a major road in Jerusalem, Derech Hebron, which leads to, as you may guess, Hebron. Hebron is one of the holiest cities in Israel (along with Jerusalem, of course, and Shechem, where Joseph's tomb is). Over three thousand years ago, Abraham purchased a large piece of land in Hebron to bury his wife, Sarah, who died at the age of 127. This transaction is recorded in the Torah and is one of the first witnessed land purchases in history. Abraham, Sarah, Isaac and Leah are buried in Hebron. Today, Hebron is a largely Arab city (only 20% are Jewish Israelis). In 1929, there was a massacre in Hebron which killed almost 70 Jewish people, and since then, tensions in Hebron have been high. It is a part of the West Bank, technically (it is beyond the security fence) and requires passing several checkpoints to move between Hebron and Jerusalem. We traveled in a bulletproof bus from "our" side of Derech Hebron to the end, where we reached what looked like an abandoned heap of boarded-up shops, desolate roads and army vehicles. This is Hebron. Where the IDF patrols on regular intervals (we saw them marching up the streets as we walked along, from the patriarchs' tombs to one of Hebron's few synagogues, which was originally a Hadassah hospital building), where streets are divided - one side for Jews, another for Arabs, and where peace seems like a very foreign goal. As I walked on the streets, a low wall (approximately reaching my hip, so it went up to everyone else's knee) ran up the middle; barefoot children on the other side waved and held out their hands for money, screaming "Shalom!" I could barely see them over the dividing wall; I wondered if they knew why it's there.

On a lighter note, this week was also the beginning of the 50th Annual Israel Festival, a collection of arts and music performances that go on in Jerusalem for three weeks. On Monday, one of my friends and I were walking downtown, past Ben Yehuda street and toward Safra Square, where we saw a huge stage and endless folding chairs being set up. When we stopped to ask what was going on there, we were told that the Bolshoi Ballet was giving a special performance with the Israel Ballet of Giselle. I almost passed out. We asked if we could get tickets, what time the show started, etc. Naturally, since this is Israel, we got a different answer from every person we asked. Eventually, we got lucky and some poor guy was stuck with three tickets that I'm guessing his girlfriend purchased without his knowledge (he didn't exactly look like the type to be going to a ballet without her - or with her, for that matter) and now, for whatever reason, wasn't there to claim them, so we grabbed them. It was unbelievable. The dancing, the stage, the fact that the Bolshoi prima who looked like she weighs twelve pounds (in her costume) wasn't taken over by the wind while balancing on pointe - it was unreal. Perhaps one of the funniest (and it wasn't meant to be comedic, but it was) parts of this experience was noticing that a Tuborg beer stand was set up along the side of the square, along with a guy selling pretzels and hot dogs. At a ballet?! Only in Israel would ballpark fare be found at a fine arts function. Ha!

I've spent a lot of time this week saying goodbye to places and things. To the Old City and the Kotel, to Emek Refaim, to the Central Bus Station where I go every Thursday and Saturday night in my travels to Tel Aviv, to Aleh and all the girls in the Bogrot class, to ulpan, to falafel, to my teachers. I said goodbye to Tel Aviv and its beaches, to Nahalat Benyamin and the artists there who have come to know my name, to Dizengoff and Rothschild and all the places that have become my stomping grounds. It's hard to say goodbye, to leave places that you love, but knowing that I'll be back makes it slightly easier. This is me saying goodbye to Israel for now, at the end of this adventure, but not forever.

It's strange, this leaving business. It's the end of so many incredible things and experiences and people, but at the same time, knowing that it happened makes me so grateful and happy. As I look back and remember to the beginning, to the Bat Yam apartment I flooded within an hour of being there, to the gan in Arad and all that happened in Rwanda, and now to the beauty of Jerusalem, I realize all that has changed, all that I've learned and become. I won't be speaking Hebrew or fighting my way onto overcrowded buses, exploring and seeing all that I can, but in my return home, things will be new - I have a new appreciation for all the things and people I once took for granted, for the life I once thought was so natural and normal. It is the end of something wonderful, something unforgettable, but it's also the start of something equally great.

I like to think I've come a long way from the first day I went grocery shopping at the Super Douche in Bat Yam and, not knowing how to ask for chicken breasts, grabbed my chest and pointed to the butcher case. There are so many memories I've made here, and I will miss it, cats and grocery trollies and Hebrew-screaming and all. I know I'll be back, though, and when I return, I will have a whole new view of this place I've come to call home. It's never easy to say goodbye, but I know my life and my adventures will go forward, that I will continue to explore and learn all I can, and to find love and passion wherever I go.

Thank you for following me on this journey. It's been a life-changing one that has taught me more than any book I could ever read. I hope you've all learned something, too, and I can't wait to share more with you as the next part of my journey, wherever it may take me, unfolds.

All the love in the world from Israel, one last time,
Elana

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