(This Isn't) The End

This is absolutely surreal. I can't believe it. I'm sitting in Ben Gurion International Airport right now getting ready to board my flight to Boston via Toronto. After exactly three months (I left California on May 28th), I am returning home.

But what even is home? For the first seventeen years of my life, home was California, Anaheim Hills, my family, my pets. Then, two years ago, Harvard became my home as well; Boston garnered my affection, and I missed my friends to death whenever I went back to California. That's when I first began to understand home is not a building and it is not a city--home is in the hearts and arms of the people you love. And that is why I know that Israel has become my third home.

I've left pieces of my heart scattered around this country. In Haifa and the breathtaking Carmel Mountains. In Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee. But most of all, I have left my heart with the Morrises, and the Starks, and the Wiels, and all the other families and friends I've met and grown to love in Raanana. I am so blessed to have had an experience that makes saying goodbye to a land and a people so hard.

But hey, this isn't all sappy and sad and cute, because hello, international travel is involved, which gets messy. Luckily, I had a wonderful day yesterday with the family in my last few hours in Israel. We ate dinner, watched TV, laughed at YouTube videos, stalked Jeni's Laker Girl days online, and had some emotional, heartwarming moments, including the reading of a beautiful and touching poem that Esther wrote for me.

I woke up this morning to say final goodbyes to Sarah, who brought me mini hallah bread to celebrate Shabbat on the plane (literally the cutest), Goody and Eric, who took care of me and fed me while the Morrises were gone, and the whole family. It was tearful for sure.

My mom and Jeni drove me to Ben Gurion with only like three wrong turns, which is pretty solid. I stepped into the airport this morning with four bags (yes, four, don't judge) and tried to roll/push/drag all of these bags through security. Of course, I broke my toe yesterday (not exaggerating) and I'm super sad, because duh I'm leaving, so I'm limping and crying as I roll up with my baggage, both literal and emotional. I walk up to the main guy and he starts interrogating me. Not questioning--interrogating. 

So I'm telling him my name, my destination, yada yada, and then he either starts getting very curious or very suspicious because the questions get a little pointed.

"Who did you stay with?"

*cue sobs*

Me: "The Morrises."

Him: "What are their names? Do they have kids?"

*gasping for air*

Me: "Ronnie, Esther, Michal, Ariella, Nava, Atara, Akiva, and Orit."

Okay at this point, if I can rattle off eight Jewish names without blinking, you'd think they'd let me through. But noooo of course not.

Him: "What were you doing here? "

Me: "Research at IDC Herzliya."

Him: "What was the research on?"

Me in my head: "Ohhhhh I've got him now!!!!!" 

Me out loud: "Counterterrorism."

Mhm that's right, what now

But he doesn't look like he's buying it. He literally looks at me like this--

So then you guys--oh my god I'm about to crack up writing this--he's like "So did you know Hebrew before you came? Do you know any now?"

I swear to God, I got all proud. I was like--

and I kinda scoffed, "well I mean I'm not fluent or anything--" and I was literally about to start giving him my vocabulary when he moved onto another question. What was I thinking?!!!!?? I literally know how to say yes, no, and hallah; did I think I was going to convince him I was Israeli!!!?? (Even though I clearly am.)

But what was weird and kinda laughable was this guard's confusion at my reason for being here. He realized I didn't know Hebrew and wasn't Jewish, and he could not understand why I'd come. And I just kinda wanted to be like, dude!! Israel is freaking LEGIT, of course I'd come here!!

But I didn't want to get on his bad side even more so I kept quiet. 

So then he's literally talking to all these people all over carrying my passport with him, and I'm just standing there. He finally comes back and says, "all right Aubrey, follow me."

I literally almost broke down again--extra screening?! Really?!!!

So I corral my four bags, and try to follow him (he was walking so fast), and guess what--HE BROUGHT ME TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE. LITERALLY HELPED ME BYPASS EVERYONE. I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. I COULDN'T BREATHE. 

He looked at me like--

And said, "have a safe flight" then handed me off to the security counter.

And I was like, 

You're probably like, "why the heck did you get priority?" and I wish I could reply,

But in reality, Jeni knew someone in Israeli TSA (literally Jeni just hooks me the eff up) and he promised to try and help me.

Of course, I didn't bypass everything they still had to check all of my carry-ons (oh welp, there's my underwear) and check everything for bomb residue (even my Bible--seriously), but I got through and got coffee and was able to try and hold back my tears in peace. I'm scared because what if I cry and they think I'm guilty about something and question me more. So I'm like 

No no no, I'm fine, I'm fine

As I wait for my flight, this is a great time to say thank you. Thank you to the Morrises, for treating me like a daughter and a sister. Thank you to every individual who has made this an eye-opening, fascinating, once-in-a-lifetime summer. And thank you to every person who has read this blog, or thought of me, or prayed for me while I've been abroad. And don't be too sad--I'm studying abroad next spring in India, Brazil, and South Africa, so Aubrey's Wanderlust will be back and ready next January!! Until then, I'll update with any mini trips I take this semester and I'll give you the lowdown on the Stoddard Costa Rica Trip in a few months. Thank you so much, everyone, for all of your love and support.

This isn't the end.

Shalom, and go in peace,

Aubrey Noelle

The Beach Cures All

Okay, I have sufficiently recovered my peace of mind enough to record the events of yesterday and today. I'm just as sane as I normally am, which is to say, not very.

SO after work yesterday, Kajsa and I took the bus to Tel Aviv to eat some acai bowls and sit on the shore. If I squinted just a little and sort of held my breath and didn't listen to the incomprehensible conversations going on around me, I could pretend I was home in Laguna Hills chilling at Thousand Steps Beach! We'd only planned on staying a few hours, but time slipped away as we chatted and watched the sun set.

We had two interrupters.

First, some crazy dude literally slid on the sand in between me and Kajsa like this--

And Kajsa and I were like--

This random guy was trying to make weird conversation, so I kindly asked if he'd throw away my empty acai bowl for me. His attitude completely darkened, and he started cussing me and Kajsa out, calling us "douchebags" (what?) and telling us to shut up.

So of course I'd just say random words so he wouldn't think I was obeying his order. It was like fighting with a 2-year-old with an excessively colorful vocabulary.

But our next visitor was way more fun. Davit, the middle-aged Israeli man, basically loved me.

Real quotes from Davit:

"You have a lovely skin color. Very dark."

"You just have to make sure you smile when it's dark out, it could be hard to see you."

"Do you play volleyball? I can tell your hands handle balls well."

"Boys are stupid. You need to wait for the right boy. Not an Israeli boy."

"You have a lot of spice. Boys can't handle your spice."

And I was like:

To Kajsa:

"You are so white. How long have you been here?"

"You need to go to the doctor. Something is wrong with you."

"Start drinking some carrot juice. You need some veetameens."

"You can't leave her!! (Referring to me) She will go after stupid boys without your help!"

Kajsa response was:

So honestly, it was hysterical. I was about dying of laughter.

Today, I wanted to head into Tel Aviv to hang out with Kajsa and Kara for one of their last days here in Israel. But for some reason, the 347 bus (my usual) wasn't running today.

Why?

Oh, just because. Who knows? So I had to jump on the only bus going into Tel Aviv from Raanana, the 501. It was slow. And long. And loud. And ridiculous.

After twoooOOOOOO HOUUUUURSSSS ON THE BUS, I got to the destination... But not the one I wanted. I had no idea how to get to King George Street, where I was supposed to meet Kajsa and Kara, and since it was already 3 and the last buses would stop running around 5, I literally had to turn right back around and get on another bus to go home.

Me to public transportation:

I ended up getting off at an early stop to stroll to the beachside in Herzliya, near my house. I walked for about an hour through tall city buildings down a busy highway. There's nothing like the sudden tapering-off of buildings as you look to the west towards the waterfront. I love how you walk towards a beach, and you can tell you're getting close when the skyline empties. It's one of my favorite forms of anticipation. 

The walk was a liiiittle longer than I thought (I was planning on a half hour, it took an hour), but stepping into the Mediterranean made the fiascos of the entire day worthwhile. Like I've stated--give me some sand, and some saltwater, and the crashing of some waves, and I am home. 

I finished up my walk on the beach (such a cliche, by the way) and walked to the closest bus stop. But, I mean, it was already 5:30 PM on Shabbat, so I was positive no buses were running. I sat at the bench more to mourn my sore feet and ponder whether I should walk the 7 miles home or shell out the $25 for a taxi.

*thinking about spending money*

But then--on the horizon--could it be? A big shiny... BUS??!!

YES. IT WAS MY BUS. COMING TO RESCUE ME.

leaping up from the bench, hallelujah

The bus driver probs thought I was way too excited for a bus ride. But I finally finished the ride back and practically skipped home. I showered and dressed for a Shabbat dinner with some family friends down the street. It was a beautiful and delicious meal, and it was the first time in two weeks I'd had a meal that consisted of vegetables and not just carbs. I'm a terrible adult.

Thank God for the beach, and for friends, and for prepared food, and for life in general. I'm blessed!

Much love,

Aubs

Wadi Rum and the Ride Home

Oh my god. I would have written this post yesterday upon my return home, but my blood was boiling and my eyes were drooping too much to compose a comprehensive account.

The night at the Bedouin campsite was pretty wonderful. A full moon shone in a sky dotted with multi-colored stars. The resort-style camp sits in the middle of a nature reserve, solitary and isolated, so no lights spoiled the view. Kajsa, a new friend of ours, and I climbed up a mountain on the side of the camp to see the panorama.

Even though my alarm was set to wake up for the sunrise, I got lazy and slept in. Oh well.

I finally rolled out of bed to eat a delicious breakfast of hummus, pita bread, and the most delicious olive oil ever. Then, we climbed into trunk beds lined with benches to explore the Wadi Rum desert.

We drove away from every semblance of civilization to see the unearthly rock structures and blazing sand.

"Where the heck am I?"

It honestly felt post-apocalyptic. It was about 110 degrees outside, and only lizards and camels roamed the sand.

Hey there, camel

Panorama!

We wandered into a cool, natural cave..

Saw a mushroom-shaped rock...

And beheld gigantic mountains that looked like melting candles.

After a couple of hours of exploration, we jumped into a shuttle to get back across the border through the town of Aqaba. Our driver had some eyebrow-raising comments on the miraculous success of monarchies and interesting observations about his country.

Driver: "The only reason we have peace is because of our king. Monarchies are the best."

Me: 

Mhm okay I see. 

Aqaba was a city in development. Money pours in from Gulf countries and even the United States to build up new housing complexes and city centers. Lots of propaganda spouting from our driver... I couldn't tell if he whitewashing all the problems with this Jordanian city... Or if it really was as perfect as it seemed. We never actually got out of the car, but here's a picture through the windshield.

Aqaba was clean, kind of empty, and lined with palm trees and beautiful buildings. It actually reminded me of Palm Springs sort of! It's hard to compare the places and sights and experiences I have here to things back home; I don't want to "cheapen" the uniqueness and singularity of my time here. However, I do want to try and relate what I see and hear and feel in this region of the world in a way that makes sense. So, there ya go!

Our group made the same walk across the deserted expanse of no-man's-land back to Israel. Kajsa got questioned a little harshly (they asked for her grandfather's name) but I skated across with no issues. 

me #strutting back to Israel

After a quick lunch, Kajsa and I walked to the bus station for our 5-hour bus ride back to Tel Aviv.

Do you really think it was uneventful? Do you?

Kajsa and I sat down in some seats near the front of the bus, and within minutes, a random girl came up and told us to get out of her seat.

Kajsa and I looked around at all the empty seats around us like,

But this young lady insisted we move. And even asked that we show her our tickets to prove we had bought them???!!!

So we got up and sat in the seats right behind her, eyeing her the entire time like--

We settled into our seats for about an hour, picking up a few more passengers as we made our way to Tel Aviv. 

Then--I kid you not--I got roused out of a nap with a tap on the shoulder, and I was told I was in someone's seat.

WHAT. 

Kajsa and I were slightly annoyed--

But we decided that since everybody was so concerned with sitting in the exact seat printed on their tickets, we'd go back to seats 50 and 51, which were the numbers on our tickets. Only... all the seats were full.

And four people were simply sitting in the aisle.

Let me say that again.

Kajsa and I had paid twenty-five dollars each for seats on an over-booked bus.

(Cue the constantly-recurring question of, "Is this abnormal or are we just spoiled Americans?")

How could this be?

Well, when Israeli soldiers are dressed in their uniforms, they're allowed to get on the bus for free. However, this means that sometimes they'll get onboard buses that have already sold out. Meaning that people who paid money for their seats sit in the aisle. 

In. The. Aisle. 

Some guy insisted that Kajsa and I just kick the people in our seats out because "f*ck them," but we realized the futility of this. Everybody would be kicking everybody off until they got to a soldier in his or her seat. So, Kajsa and I decided to bite the bullet and just occupy the floor... Not with any silence or acquiescence of course. Did you really think we'd sit nicely, quietly, lady-like?

Many loud sighs, lots of almost-shouted , open-ended comments ("I guess we will just SIT ON THE GROUND THEN"), and multiple pictures filled the bus as the onlookers sat uncomfortably.

That picture above is Kajsa and me literally laying in the aisle because we were pretty damn exhausted!!!!!!!

Three hours after being resigned to the ground, two people got off the bus, so Kajsa and I sprawled across some seats. 

I got on my next bus--IN A SEAT--and after another hour and a half, I was finally, finally, FINALLY home. I took a quick shower, then passed the eff out. 

Today, I will be sitting on the couch for 12 straight hours because I need to remember what it is like to not sit on a floor. I'll call it a sanity day. Back to the grind tomorrow.

And with that, I end another blog entry and get back to reality. 

With much love,

"My feet SURE ARE SORE" Aubs

Easy, Not So Breezy Eilat

Kajsa and I spent the day in Eilat, the southernmost city in Israel on the borders of Jordan and Egypt! It was relaxing and beachy and UNBELIEVABLY hot--but getting here was a not-so-welcome adventure.

I had a bus fiasco this morning because duh of course I would, and I ended up showing up for our 5-hour bus to Eilat THREE MINUTES before its departure!! I was so freaking frazzled, but we made it, and I figured that would be the end of the daily drama for transportation.

But life had other plans and was like--

I was seated next to a little boy, maybe 6 years old, who kept yelling and getting out of his seat and being so obnoxious. I'm sitting there like, child, WHERE is your mother to whoop your ass? That's when I knew a) I was raised correctly because the second I even THOUGHT  about stepping out of line, my mother was like--

And I was like,

"What, me, no nothing??..."

And--

b) I'm gonna have the best behaved children on earth, because my children even think the words "what if I..." I will be like--

I figured this mother needed some assistance in whoopin some sense into this boy, but I refrained. For FIVE HOURS. I kept thinkin,

And I think it was only my proximity to the Holy Land that helped me to pass. 

But that wasn't all. At a short rest stop, I lost track of time (maybe since the driver only said the time limit in HEBREW), but after getting cut in line by a soldier with a loaded AK 47 (I wasn't about to question him), being told that the frozen mochas weren't quite ready yet (at 12:30 in the afternoon) and struggling to order some fries at a McDonald's, the ENTIRE BUS was waiting me for me and Kajsa was literally fighting with the driver to make him sit for me a few more seconds. Honestly I shouldve been embarrassed, but I was so frazzled and hungry, I sauntered on like--

And I ate my McFlurry like I had all the time in the world. 

The views, though, were beautiful. 

Beautiful, barren desert. I'm not being sarcastic either--it was stark and intimidating and STUNNING! 

And finally--after 5 hours--

Wahoo!!! Kajsa and I walked a short four minutes to our funky hostel--

--which has lots of abstract art and sculptures that either honor or make fun of religion... I can't quite tell which one. 

Kajsa and I then made our way to the beach in weather that almost cures me of my New England winter PTSD...

WOW. We waded a lot in the Red Sea, which was actually very chilly and perfectly refreshing. Kajsa thought she was gonna melt/pass out; I thought I'd died and gone to a burning heaven.

That last pic is me trying to part the sea--didn't quite work!!

Kajsa and I grabbed dinner, and befriended our waiter, Fauud, who gave us his number in case we felt like raging. Thanks, Fauud, but no thanks. 

It's now 11:30 PM and still about 100 degrees. Thank GOD our room has AC!!!

Tomorrow, we cross the border into Jordan--gonna be amazing!

Tanned and not quite toned after all that pita,

Burnin' Up Aubs