15 September 2006

The ride from Acco to Jerusalem yesterday was spent hearing some of the dirtiest jokes ever, from two middle-age men form Kemp Mill. I won't repeat any of them here, but it was some act the two of them had going on – they played off each other like a classic comedy duo.
We finally arrived in Jerusalem, my arm still feeling weird form donating blood. The first bus that arrived had my roommate, who after arriving quickly disappeared for a meeting. Since the hotel was organized enough not to assign names to the reserved hotel rooms, I spent the next 30 minutes (at least) writing down everyone's name and room number. After deciding to grab dinner and seriously contemplating going back to my apartment instead, the room situation was finally solved. I opted not to go to the Kotel (Western Wall) and passed out on the bed, watching a special report on the war and of course my telenovela.

The next day we spent traveling to Beit Shemesh, DC's sister city, which is half-way between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. We spent the morning at a kindergarten, making gift bags with the kids for soldiers for Rosh Hashanah. Two of the soldiers came, who first hung out with the kids – they asked the soldiers questions, they reminisced about their own experience in kindergarten, and the kids put on a march for the soldiers, with the IDF's anthem playing and the kids saluting. An odd sight for Americans, but when you're going to end up in the army, how soon is now? The soldiers then spent time with our group, talking about their experience in the army and fielding questions. There's not a lot separating me with the average solider, except age and enrollment in university, which leaves me at times ready to line up at the initial IDF processing center – between that and no questions to ask, I kept silent. Let these tourists ask questions for which they already know the answers. The soldiers left, and the kids had a mock Shabbat, complete with a designated Mom & Dad. It was very cute and all the older participants were in tears.
We then drove back to Jerusalem to participate in a reunion. In Israel there's a group of people known as "lone soldiers," those who serve in the IDF and have no relatives in the country. A group of these soldiers, all from the former Soviet Union, were going to see their parents for the first time in several years, thanks to the Jewish Agency and money from the DC Jewish community. Taking into account what I just said above, this was going to be weird for me – granted I'm not Russian, but this could be me. I heard second-hand that participants from our group were speculating that these parents couldn't see their kids previously because they were in jail or committed some sort of offense – I was boiling mad. While it was great to create this opportunity, I felt like an intruder. If/when this happens for me, I would graciously thank the sponsoring agencies and then tell them to get the hell outta the way.
We then went to the Kotel as a group, where the soldiers & their families were going as well. It was amazing how quickly the group split off from one another, despite having to meet at the bus at some point. I sat facing the Kotel, not wanting to intrude on the group of Russians and not necessarily in the mood to pray.
Leaving was going to be an ordeal, and it soon became more than expected. The group walked incredibly slow back to the bus, which – especially with people who had never been to Israel before – is always a bad idea. We were missing someone, not from our group but a volunteer staying in Beit Shemesh who was joining us for the day. We finally found her phone number, and she was too far from us to wait. Off we went, finally dropping me off by my apartment. While it was sad to leave this incredible group of volunteers, who picked up form their lives and spent the week in Israel working and sweating nonstop, it was great getting home. Shabbat began, as did my sleep.