Jennifer
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Last day
The last day in Israel. The last day before re entering the exile. The last day in the birthplace of my soul. Words are not sufficient to describe my experience. From the Kotel to Independence Hall. From Masada to floating in the Dead Sea. From Yad Vashem to the underground armory. From meeting locals to bonding with my KKBE family. I have been enlightened and strengthened. This last day, I walked on the beach remembering, reminiscing, soaking in EVERYTHING. And I pray for the Peace of Israel. I think about last night singing on the beach, hearing the laughter of children, I realize that is why Hashem created the World...to hear the laughter of children. May Israel be filled with the laughter of children?
Tel Aviv and Yaffo
A view of Tel Aviv
Sailing
Just a few of the desserts at our opulent Shabbat dinner.
Puppets at the market.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Yummy
Last night our bus driver dropped us of at a beautiful dock in Tel Aviv. Me and my mom had a wonderful dinner of pizza and pasta. On our way back to our huge hotel we saw this gelato place. We went inside and there was a wide selection of the most beautiful gelato we have seen yet! We couldn't resist getting some! I got cookies and cream and my mom got tiramisu. We sat on the rocks out side of the shop looking at the Mediterranean Sea. It was the most wonderful and tastiest food and experience I have had in Israel.
Traveling with Mom
Mom and I had decided to go on this trip to Israel so long ago, its amazing we are here. Learning from her doctor a few days earlier that a knee replacement would be a good idea (soon), we went into this trip with a bit of apprehension. But we had no idea it would be so much harder for mom, physically, until the day we got to Masada. Beautiful and totally worth the effort, we conquered the whole tour. Rocks, sand, steps and all. We figured that surely we had gotten through what had to be the toughest challenge behind us and were ready the next day to take on Jerusalem! Needless to say, we were a bit naive in our thinking. We walked from 8:30 am(except for lunch) until 6:30 pm. And there were hills and uneven walkways and stairs, stairs, stairs. Hundreds of them. Steep ones, flat ones, winding ones... and most were thousands of years old. But taking in all the beauty and awe of this miraculous city, in between breaths, it was yet a miracle in itself she made it. We had a plan B in place, that the guide would get her safely in a taxi after lunchtime and head back to the hotel to rest. But she didn't. The woman was amazing. She was slow. A bit unstable at times, but she forged on. And she got to pray at the wall. The Wall... Wow. I can say I had two totally different experiences there in a short time.
The Wall was much shorter in length than we expected. From afar, surprisingly it really is hard to get the real feel for it. The large paved space between the divide and the other buildings across from the Wall is scattered with tourists, children and religious groups. We see people, far away, lined up facing the wall and praying silently.We enter the walkway that gently slopes down into the courtyard. As we got closer, and then behind people to wait ( around 3-5 deep), I suddenly felt a completely different energy. It is very hard to put it into words. My mother was next to me and I watched as we stood, silently both of us feeling the heavy air, now thick with prayer. Lips moving silently . A rhythmic hum. I had four prayers all folded tightly, very small, now clutched in my hand. Mom taps me and hands me hers, as we still can't get quite get passed the line up. I reach over a woman's shoulder and tuck it into a crevice. I said my prayers silently in my head as I placed my four, one at a time anywhere i could find. I guided mom and I backwards, in respect as not to show our back to the wall. That was a fun challenge, you know, with mom. Then we sat down in chairs that were scattered around the floor within the area and chatted and looked on. As we started back up to where the group was to meet, I realized I never took out my late father's kerchief at the wall. The whole reason that I had brought it.
So I went back, by myself. Again, a totally different experience without Mom as I wasn't focused on watching over her. So here I was, alone, surrounded by so many women of all different Jewish faiths. Young women with there silk head covers, bowing and praying from their tiny sedors, older Hasidic women, women from France, Russia, etc. Some quietly crying and some moving their mouths very fast and steady in prayer. Some holding their hands against the wall with their heads down and eyes closed. And, suddenly, there was a parting. There was no one in between me and the wall. I held Dad's kerchief to it and I said aloud one prayer I had placed in the crack earlier, "Thank you, Dad." And I slowly backed my way out and felt a rush of pure emotion. I had no idea.
And I have been so Thankful. This trip was more than a gift. Not just to go to Israel with Mom, but that she is who she is. In every way, she encompasses the essential things I want to be. Being in this beautiful land, so full of passion, so rich in history, so many scars, so much courage, it's only appropriate now that i step back and really take in all these things that make her who she is. To listen to her and what she has to say. To love and respect how she sees the world.
With Israel, it's one thing to know that I, as a Jew, belong to a country and a homeland other than Charleston that welcomes me as it's birthright, just as I do with my own loving Mother. But in order to fulfill the duty and honor in having these things, to appreciate what I have, while I have it, I must ask questions. I must pay attention. I must observe and learn and seek out the things that make this country and my culture the miraculous living breathing pedagogical master that it is. So I take the time to now ask Mom the questions I regretfully failed to ask my father. What about my grandfather and grandmother and the ones before them? What was her favorite part of school? In a nutshell, who is she? To me, this is important. This is my connection to my past. And we all need this connection at some point in our lives. One generation down to the next and the next. At times, I find the flow of information mesmerizing, like the rhythm of the Tallit maker in Tzfat on the loom, string by string creating his beautiful tapestry. Every string is essential for the next to exist. We are essential to each other.
I listen to my mother's insight after visiting the Herzel museum, learning how important his mission was. How what he did for Jews around the world effect us all so personally, and my eyes are open. And I am grateful.
Joanna
The Wall was much shorter in length than we expected. From afar, surprisingly it really is hard to get the real feel for it. The large paved space between the divide and the other buildings across from the Wall is scattered with tourists, children and religious groups. We see people, far away, lined up facing the wall and praying silently.We enter the walkway that gently slopes down into the courtyard. As we got closer, and then behind people to wait ( around 3-5 deep), I suddenly felt a completely different energy. It is very hard to put it into words. My mother was next to me and I watched as we stood, silently both of us feeling the heavy air, now thick with prayer. Lips moving silently . A rhythmic hum. I had four prayers all folded tightly, very small, now clutched in my hand. Mom taps me and hands me hers, as we still can't get quite get passed the line up. I reach over a woman's shoulder and tuck it into a crevice. I said my prayers silently in my head as I placed my four, one at a time anywhere i could find. I guided mom and I backwards, in respect as not to show our back to the wall. That was a fun challenge, you know, with mom. Then we sat down in chairs that were scattered around the floor within the area and chatted and looked on. As we started back up to where the group was to meet, I realized I never took out my late father's kerchief at the wall. The whole reason that I had brought it.
So I went back, by myself. Again, a totally different experience without Mom as I wasn't focused on watching over her. So here I was, alone, surrounded by so many women of all different Jewish faiths. Young women with there silk head covers, bowing and praying from their tiny sedors, older Hasidic women, women from France, Russia, etc. Some quietly crying and some moving their mouths very fast and steady in prayer. Some holding their hands against the wall with their heads down and eyes closed. And, suddenly, there was a parting. There was no one in between me and the wall. I held Dad's kerchief to it and I said aloud one prayer I had placed in the crack earlier, "Thank you, Dad." And I slowly backed my way out and felt a rush of pure emotion. I had no idea.
And I have been so Thankful. This trip was more than a gift. Not just to go to Israel with Mom, but that she is who she is. In every way, she encompasses the essential things I want to be. Being in this beautiful land, so full of passion, so rich in history, so many scars, so much courage, it's only appropriate now that i step back and really take in all these things that make her who she is. To listen to her and what she has to say. To love and respect how she sees the world.
With Israel, it's one thing to know that I, as a Jew, belong to a country and a homeland other than Charleston that welcomes me as it's birthright, just as I do with my own loving Mother. But in order to fulfill the duty and honor in having these things, to appreciate what I have, while I have it, I must ask questions. I must pay attention. I must observe and learn and seek out the things that make this country and my culture the miraculous living breathing pedagogical master that it is. So I take the time to now ask Mom the questions I regretfully failed to ask my father. What about my grandfather and grandmother and the ones before them? What was her favorite part of school? In a nutshell, who is she? To me, this is important. This is my connection to my past. And we all need this connection at some point in our lives. One generation down to the next and the next. At times, I find the flow of information mesmerizing, like the rhythm of the Tallit maker in Tzfat on the loom, string by string creating his beautiful tapestry. Every string is essential for the next to exist. We are essential to each other.
I listen to my mother's insight after visiting the Herzel museum, learning how important his mission was. How what he did for Jews around the world effect us all so personally, and my eyes are open. And I am grateful.
Joanna
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Full
Our itinerary has been full. Each day we have seen and done a lot. When we are able to pause for lunch, or dinner, or simply an afternoon break in a cafe, there is wine. Israeli wine. And it has been very good. At dinner one evening, several of us shared a very nice bottle of Merlot Barkan Reserve. The rieslings I have tried from Barkan and Golan Heights were just a little sweet with the typical hints of grapefruit and citrus you would expect. Very refreshing on a hot Israeli afternoon or evening. How lovely it is, after walking the same paths that Jews have walked for thousands of years, to enjoy the fruits of the vines of this amazing country.
Teri New
In the Golan
The KKBE group went on a trip to the Golan Heights first thing in the morning on 6/12/2013. The first visit of the day was to a memorial dedicated to the Israeli soldiers who fought in a battle against the Syrians after being attacked. After that we visited an Israeli military fort located on the top of an inactive volcano. It was all very interesting and I learned a great deal. Our tour guide was very informative.
David F.
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