The Trio Takes Jerusalem

Wow. What a hilarious, enlightening, AMAZING day. We woke up so early we about died, then we headed into Jerusalem!!!

I was so excited to finally relax and just enjoy the ride. Two adults in the front seat; I couldn't wait to be led around by the all-knowing elders. Until they turned to me excitedly and exclaimed, "All right, Aubrey! Lead the way! It's all up to you!"

So, I dejectedly accepted the task of corralling my mom and Jeni through Jerusalem.

Upon arrival to the Old City, we walked (ran) directly to the Western Wall and explored the tunnels underneath the Old City. We saw arches, cisterns, and walls from 100 BCE. It was astounding, and our tour guide was the sweetest thing in the world. It was amazing, guys.

Crazy arched roof underground

After this hour-long tour, we practically sprinted to the main gate for our next tour, a tour of the entire city. Beautiful views, fascinating information, and explorations into the nooks of the Old City. It was exciting to watch Jeni and my momma see some of these sights for the first time.

The Old City from the rooftops

The girls and the dome!

But I have to say... Watching Jeni take on the shopkeepers just about killed me. I was gasping for air as she bargained with shopkeepers in the Old City. Belly-dancing outfits for her daughter; an alabaster shell for $55; camel leather sandals... I seriously about died. I'm dying laughing right now as Jeni is showing off her souvenirs and realizing she shopped like she was drunk. I'm dying, guys. 

We hurried to the City of David, the capital of ancient Israel, for our final three-hour tour of the day. But about 15 minutes into it, we knew this wasn't gonna work out. We hated the guide to distraction; he about put us all to sleep. We skidaddled after a half hour, and Jeni stalked to the customer service office to get some money back. She talked to the lady for about ten minutes--at one point, I think I heard her say "you should pay us to take this tour"--and came back to me and my mom proud with her skill. "Alright," she smiled, "I was able to get them to come down from 141 shekels to 125."

I sat about frozen for a second. "Um.... 16 shekels?"

She nodded with a grin.

"That's about three dollars."

Jeni's face

She literally ran back to the window and gave that girl a verbal butt-whoopin'. I think that the hilarity of Jeni's anger outweighed my frustration with losing so much money (aka $12 a person). Once again--my mom and I were dying. DY. ING. 

We wandered back into the Old City and continued shopping. But, as the sun started to go down, the locals began to swarm into the streets, and we began to get some pretty dirty and suspicious looks. It was time to get out of the city. Especially because we needed to restrain Jeni from going back to a shopkeeper that had ripped her off. 

We had the most delicious Italian dinner, and then we drove back home. We've been chatting with fam having the most hilarious and fun time. This has been the most fun week ever--the colliding of my favorite parts of two different worlds. Tomorrow we head northeast--gonna be another amazing day! 

Hooray<3

Aubrey

The West Bank

I write this blog today with a bewildered, heavy heart. I am full of confusion and full of conflict after a full day in the West Bank, the Palestinian territory on the eastern edge of Israel. I visited Ramallah, Jericho, and Bethlehem, and learned an unbelievable amount about the Palestinian side of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and about Christianity.

I woke up this morning at 4:20 AM to catch the 5 AM bus to the main bus station to catch the 6 AM bus to Jerusalem, because we all know my luck with Israeli public transportation. I managed the buses just fine--actually pretty wonderfully--but of course my luck on the tram took a turn for the worse. I didn't validate my ticket, which is cause for a fine--but the officer guy took pity on me and cut me some slack.

Three fellow interns and I jumped on a bus at 8:15 AM to drive about 10 minutes east from Jerusalem to the West Bank. Our guide immediately welcomed us to "terrorist country." I didn't know whether he was referring to Israel or the West Bank, but either way, right off the bat, I was like:

But I decided to enjoy the ride.

One thing I love about Jerusalem's geography and topography--it requires so little imagination to picture what the landscape looked like 2,000 years ago. Short, gnarled olive trees sprout in the rich, sunset-colored earth and every once in a while, a goat or two will peek out from behind the stumpy trunks of trees. I mean, I practically expect the shepherds who heard the angels' proclamations to walk up to our bus with bemused looks on their faces.

That was my satisfied impression of the countryside... Until I blinked and was transported to a different world. Where shanties were homes. Where trash lined the street. Where women peeked out of burkas with only a slit for their eyes. We had entered the West Bank.

One thing I noticed as I traversed the West Bank.. There are SO. MANY. TIRES. Like legit rubber car tires are just strewn across the land. You can even see two in the above picture. It's crazy. I don't even know the explanation for that. I also saw a splatter of crusty red on a telephone pole that looked suspiciously lethal and posters of Arab-looking men holding rifles in front of famous landmarks (like the Dome of the Rock) hung all over the capital of the West Bank, Ramallah.

It's totally fine, ha ha ha, so normal!!!

Ramallah reminded me of Nazareth in that it's an Arab and Arabic-heavy city that retains some Israeli order. It was an interesting city, and we walked for about 20 minutes through the main streets.

A view of the valley

The city center

The market

We arrived at Arafat's tomb; Arafat was the leader of the Palestinian Liberation Organization and the Palestinian Authority (basically the nationalist ruling parties of Palestine) until his mysterious death/possible murder in 2004.

The tomb

My friend took a picture of me standing in between the two soldiers as I threw up some gang signs, but it's on her phone, so just stay on the lookout for that. The soldier on the right was pretty cute actually, and I considered giving his butt a lil' squeeze for a funny photo op, but then I realized he was holding a gun and he probs wouldn't find it as funny as sleep-deprived Aubrey does.

Still, could have been funny.

Anyways. We made our way to Jericho, which is apparently the oldest city in the world... Somebody needs to check those facts. Jericho is a) where Joshua and his constituents marched around the walls of Jericho and blew trumpets until the walls tumbled down and b) where Jesus fasted for 40 days and nights and was tempted by the devil.

We took cute cable cars up the mountain--

With our great guide whose name is literally "Thursday" and who told me that his nephew is an eligible bachelor and engineer in Kuwait--

And we were treated to a fab view of the West Bank.

We then toured the Greek Orthodox monastery that honors Jesus's temptation.

There it is in the rocks!

Gorgeous

The rock upon which Jesus sat and fasted/was tempted

The story of Jesus' resistance to the Devil's temptation is one of my favorite New Testament stories for two reasons.

First of all, I think it's such an admirable example that He set for us. He was weakened by hunger and thirst and probs just missed heaven a ton but remained faithful to God and to the standards He held for himself. That's beautiful, right?

Second--Jesus is honestly just like the biggest baller ever, okay? Like picture this. You know when you just really, really hate someone so you disagree with everything they say? Like they could say, "wow isn't oxygen really great?" and you'd be like--

I mean, idk, I kind of just prefer to hold my breath, but like if that's what you wanna do, it's your choice, whatever.

You guys--THAT WAS LITERALLY JESUS. He had STARVED himself for FORTY EFFING DAYS and the Devil is like "yo dude why don't you just make yourself some bread?" And Jesus was like,

Eh, whatever, I'm not really that hungry, I don't feel like it, thanks though

Like, oh my God. He was the best. 

I mean like maybe I'm going to hell for blasphemy, but one thing I've learned since I've been in Israel is that nothing here is perfect. We romanticize the cities and the stories and the people to the point that upon arrival, they're unrecognizable. Being in Jerusalem and praying at the Western Wall and walking the Via de la Rosa are beautiful experiences--but they aren't perfect by any means. And I feel like in the past, I've read the Bible so drily and treated the people in it like idolized angels when they were really f*cked up humans like all of us. Seriously, though--Jesus went to a freaking wedding with no open bar and was like "yo this is whack" and TURNED WATER INTO WINE. WHAT A HOMIE. Or when He's walking through a town and tries to take some figs from a tree but they're not ripe yet, so He literally goes, "eff this tree," and makes it barren forever because it was probs like March and the tree just wasn't blossoming yet. Or when he's taking a nap on a boat, and everybody is freaking out about a measly little storm and they wake him up, and he literally comes up to the deck and is like "you guys need to chill the eff out" and just stops the storm and is like "God, guys, I'm literally Jesus, did you think we were gonna drown? Let me effin' nap."

Like I said. I'm probs going to hell. But also... Maybe not. We as humans appreciate love and humor and enjoyment so much; I think that the God who created us values the same things. So I like to think of Jesus as the best friend I'm ever gonna have. And if he's gonna be a good friend, he's gotta laugh like at least at one or two of my "that's what she said" jokes. Okay, kidding on that last part. But I bet he would have laughed.

Anyways. 

I'm really rambling here. I've been awake for like 20 hours. Bear with me, friends.

We then went to Bethlehem for lunch and for a tour of the Church of Nativity, which is built on top of the cave in which Jesus was born.

The Doorway of Humility--so small you have to BOW to get in!

Stunning Greek Orthodox shrine

Jesus's birth site plus Aubs

We then walked about two seconds over to the Catholic church honoring the same humanity-saving event.

After our quick tour, our guide actually sang the Lord's Prayer to us in Aramaic, which is the combined language of Ancient Hebrew and Arabic that Jesus really would have spoken. It was beautiful.

Then, we continued with a walk through the Old City of Bethlehem--

Which was lovely.

Then, the day took a turn for complicated.

We reached a refugee settlement and were told we were about to walk through. At which point a man with a hose proceeded to spray all of us tourists with water.

Our guide insisted the man was just trying to cool us off, and I was like--

Oh yeahhhh, I'm sure

But my indignant mood shattered pretty quickly, morphing into disgust and pity.

The streets were filthy. The buildings were falling apart with no paint, just graffiti slandering Israel and Judaism covering the walls.

A call to boycott Israeli goods, because 16% of the profit goes towards "the murder of Gazan children"

The settlement

I was uncomfortable. I was hopeless. I was upset. And it only got worse as we walked out of the settlement towards the gigantic border wall between Israel and Palestine.

Graffiti once again took over my attention. Some of the sayings blasted Israel. Others begged for release from the prison of Palestine.

Short autobiographies of West Bank children and young adults lined the wall as well--including the story of a Palestinian boy who gave up his seat on the bus for an elderly Israeli women when none of the Israelis on the bus would stand up.

Vaguely relevant, for some reason

I have not suddenly changed allegiances. I have not changed my mind about the right of Israel to exist. I have not succumbed to blatant propaganda or whitewashing of sins.

However.

Today depressed me, because I finally understood the ramifications of the lack of a two-state solution. I saw firsthand the poverty and despair in Palestine. And I was forced to confront my own ignorant hubris and dismantle it as I wracked my brain for an acceptable way to please everyone... and found none. I wanted to make it better. I wanted to fix it. And I don't know how.

I left the West Bank sobered and saddened. I was quiet for the next few hours as we made our way back to the main Jerusalem bus station. And I felt hopeless until I saw this.

I know it doesn't look like much in the picture. But it was a beautiful sunset tonight. And even though I'd traipsed through millenia-old sites dedicated to my religion, this might have been the closest I've felt to God in a little while in the way I am used to. It was going to be okay. The sun was going to set, and it will rise tomorrow; the leaders of today might fail in their quest to solve the conflict, but the leaders of tomorrow--hopefully myself included--will dedicate their time and energy and lives to its conclusion. I am in a screwed up, sometimes depressing, but unbelievably Holy place. I am so lucky.

And to reward you for making it through such a rollercoaster of a post, here's one of the writings on the wall that made me chuckle.

Signing off with a lot less hubris but a little bit of hope,

Aubs

Yerushalaim

After our heavy start at Yad Veshem, we made our way to the Herzl Museum, which educates on the life and vision of Theodore Herzl, writer of The Jewish State and the man who first imagined the creation of a modern-day Israel. 

wee!

I definitely learned a lot at this museum--not just about Herzl but also about ideology. The museum was a little bit propagandistic and simplistic--but not at all in a false, bad, or misleading way. It was the presenting of history with a nationalistic pride. I found that because of my lack of very personal investment in Israel--as in, I don't live here full-time and I'm not a citizen--I felt like I was able to remain skeptical and evaluate the presented facts and stories from an unbiased, appraisatory perspective. I was able to accept and reject certain ideas in an intellectual way (as I'm sure numerous Israelis do as well). What the experience really did, though, was prompt me to examine how I evaluate American videos and facts. I realized I should be more critical of my own country. Not in a negative or dismissive way per se. I should simply detach myself from the blind patriotism and forgive-all that I know I can be capable of in order to accept the mistakes America has made and the faults it has in order to allow myself the creativity and determination to fix them.

Golda Meir's grave, former Prime Minister of Israel

Interesting fact: when you pass by a grave, you're supposed to leave a pebble or stone on it.

We then went to Yemin Moshe, an artist colony right outside the Old City of Jerusalem. It was stunning! Very interesting-- there are many homes that face the Old City walls. A few decades ago, there were no entrances or exits on that side of Yemin Moshe, because the citizens were in danger of being shot by soldiers on the wall! Since then, though, there's been a little bit of peacekeeping--just a tiny bit--so doors on all sides of buildings are permitted.

That's the Old City in the background

So many flowers, so beautiful

Seriously out of a painting!

A windmill!

#tokencanine of the trip

Just couldn't stop taking pictures!

From Yemin Moshe, we went to Me'a Shea'rim, a Hasidic Jewish neighborhood. You know Hasids--the black hats and the suits and the curls. The curls are because in the Torah, it orders that men never cut their sideburns. Hasids spend their days studying and debating the Torah--amazing, right? They literally dedicate their lives to learning. Sure, they may not make a ton of money... But still a pretty incredible thing to spend your time doing, right? We visited the largest hashiva, or Torah-learning center, in the world, and walked through the neighborhood. Did you know that some Hasidic men refuse to even look at any women besides their wives? WOAH amirite? They will avert their eyes--and sometimes even cover their face!

A falafel ball dressed up with a kippah and curls--literally the most Israeli thing I've ever seen

"Please do not pass through our neighborhood in immodest clothes."

We had a mini fiasco in which we lost the car (woopsies!) and almost crashed like fifteen times on the one-way-sized streets that are actually two-way--but then we got to dinner at Mamilla, an outdoor mall that is basically an Israeli Fashion Island. I had a loaf of bread for dinner (classic me) and it was delicious. It's now 1 AM, and I wake up tomorrow at 6 AM to start getting ready for my trip up north with the family for a picnic!

With love from Israel,

Aubrey and the Morrises

The Holocaust Museum

I felt that my experiences at this specific museum today deserved their own post. The feelings evoked, the lessons learned, and the morality pondered will stay with me forever.

I have been to a Holocaust museum before in DC. I was 13 and immature and wrapped up in the drama of eighth grade. I was sad, sure, but it's different now. I've studied history, especially the World Wars, for five years now. I've been exposed to multiple perspectives on Judaism, Christianity, race, war, and evil. And, perhaps most importantly, I've lived for a month in a Jewish state.

When you walk into Yad Vashem, the museum in Jerusalem, Israel, you are assaulted by harsh concrete and soaring walls of grey. It is built in a manner in which you cannot skip a single room--you must go through the entire museum to get to the exit. You wind your way through about twenty or so large exhibits about the rise of Nazism, the painful process of ghettoization and internment in concentration camps, and the progression of World War II.

I think one of the things that impacted me most was the visual and verbal explanations of Nazism's spread throughout Europe and Africa. It was EVERYWHERE. Greece, Belgium, Tunisia, France, Bulgaria, Poland... the German Reich spanned almost all of Europe. Not to mention--the countries that had escaped Germany's power-hungry rampage closed their borders and their states to desperately fleeing Jews (all except the Dominican Republic and China were closed until 1943). How hopeless it must have seemed. As a Jew, you could hop from country to country, refuge to refuge, attempting to outrun the threat of death--but it was nearly impossible. So the scope of the movement really touched me.

I was sobered and saddened and educated by the two hours I spent in the museum. But I did not cry until I reached the final room. A video of an older woman who had survived the Holocaust was describing her final days on the Death March she was forced to undergo by the fleeing, losing Nazis. She began to describe how she had to literally carry her sister through the harsh conditions, starving and exhausted, in order for her to survive. And then, they reached the hospital, the last destination, and her sister passed away calling out her name. I broke down in that instant. Imagining losing Sierra or Miranda, or having to watch them waste away, or being told that one of them had cried out for me on her deathbed while I was busy recovering from the murder attempts of an entire nation.... I could not bear it. The thought made the entire atrocity very real and very personal.

Then we walked through the Children's Memorial. The tears continued to flow. You walk into a tall, cool, dark hall that has no lights except for six candles whose light is refracted by a plethora of mirrors to create six million points of light. It was like being suspended in the night sky. A looming voice chanted the names and ages of every single child that died in the Holocaust. And while I used to be able to tell myself, "well, at least they will be remembered," a place in memorium seemed to matter so little in that moment. What is the intonation of a few syllables that make up one's name every few hours in a dark room when one's life has been stolen?

Five years old, sixteen years old, seven years old... Each individual lost, a potential scientist, or writer, or leader; every one a friend, a daughter or son; never to be a mother or a father or a wife or a husband. It broke my heart.  And while it made me question how? why?; it seemed to give my own life meaning. It is only by the grace of God or by fate or by luck that I am alive on this earth. I have security, I have love, I have joy. Who am I to squander the gifts I have been given when so many have lost everything? I may not know exactly what I will do with my life, but I know that it will have meaning, and I know it will have an impact. Even if I die tomorrow, I know I'll leave behind friends I made laugh, family I loved, words I've written down, and hearts I've touched. And while I hope and pray that I may be given an extra day, or year, or decade, I can only do my best with every hour given to me. I strive to make the most of them--and sometimes the best way to do that is to write a blog every once in a while.

With many thoughts,
Aubrey Noelle

Most Amazing Weekend in the World--Day 1

June 11--the day I'd been waiting for since I first decided to come to Israel. The day that holds the memories and sights and wonders that every Christian, Muslim, Jew, history-appreciator, lover of spirituality, etc. etc. absolutely dreams of. On June 11, I went to Jerusalem.

Jerusalem is about two hours from my home in Raanana, so I woke up chipper and excited at 5 in the morning to meet my fellow travelers, Kara and Kajsa, at the appropriate bus station. I mean, of course I got on the wrong bus/went to the wrong station/was a half hour late, but I got there!!! And we began our adventure into the holiest city of all.

Most of this blog and the next will just be pictures with short descriptions, because when it comes to Jerusalem and the surrounding sites, there is no substitution for firsthand experience but a picture is the closest I can come.

I about died when I saw these walls. THEY'RE SO OLD, THEY'RE SO PRETTY, TAKE A PIC WITH ME

We walked from the modern-day city of Jerusalem through Jaffa Gate (the main entrance) into the Old City, which is walled and contains all the holy sites and religious living quarters.

"OMG WE ARE IN THE OLD CITY, TAKE A PICTURE OF ME NEXT TO THIS STREET"

We stayed in Citadel Youth Hostel, this incredible tucked away dormitory right in the middle of the Old City. In a moment of adventurousness, we decided to sleep on the roof! And boy were we glad we did. Look at our view!!!

Rooftop view of the Dome of the Rock amongst other beautiful buildings

Me, duh

After setting our belongings on our mattresses to claim them, we scurried to grab a quick falafel pita sandwich then jumped on the two-hour free tour.

Right at the beginning, a brigade chapter something that means group of soldiers passed right by, casually carrying their AK-47's, or some gun that's big and scary. The domestic soldiers are always considered to be on duty, and some of them are required to be armed at all times. Which means, there are constantly 18 and 19-year-old guys and gals walking by ya on the street carrying enormous weaponry. If you trust the military, you probably feel safer than anywhere. If you're even the slightest bit suspicious of the everyday soldier... it gives you a queasy stomach.

Woah.

These are some of the pictures from our tour. The Dome of the Rock, now a Muslim mosque, is considered the site at which Abraham almost sacrificed his son Isaac. It is the absolute holiest of sites in the entire world for Jews.

Gold Dome: Dome of the Rock. Wall behind meWailing, or Western, Wall. Grey Dome: Al-Aqsa Mosque

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is built on the location of Jesus's crucifixion and burial. It is the holiest site on the globe for Christians. It's difficult to describe how moving this church is. It takes your breath away when you realize that Jesus Christ suffered and cried out and thought of each individual human being in the exact spot in which you stand.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Because the Dome of the Rock is only open to Muslims on account of a treaty between Israel, Jordan, and Palestine, Jews pray at the Western Wall on the side of their holy site instead. It made me uncomfortable to see such a strict and unrelenting religious segregation--especially in the place at which God has made Himself most present and visible.
Many people write prayers on tiny little pieces of paper and stick them in the cracks of the wall. Of course I participated.

Me, the little babushka, at the Western Wall.

After the end of the tour, my friends and I began the Via Dolorosa, or the Way of the Sorrows. It is a path with fifteen stops, each of which hold some significance to Christ's walk with the cross. 

The path is marked throughout the Old City

A description of each stop

Bizarrely enough, one of my favorite places in all of Jerusalem was this one--

Prison of Christ

According to some Christian sects, this cave that lies under the Old City held Jesus in the hours/days before his crucifixion. I'm inclined to believe them, for in that cool, dark, damp room of stone, I felt a serenity and peace I've never experienced in my entire life. It was as if the presence of God lingered in the space, calming those who entered with an assurance of His existence and His affection. This is one of those Jerusalem sensations that's difficult to describe without sounding a little disturbed. But I could simply imagine Jesus crouched under these rocks praying to God for acceptance--and I would guess that if Jesus prays for something, it's probably gonna be granted and it probably won't wear off in a measly two thousand years.

My favorite thing about Jerusalem was that it completely altered my spiritual mindset. I was pondering and considering Christianity not just as an archaic ideology but as a real and true history of events. I thought of Jesus not as a distant ghost but as a man who'd stood where I stood, and saw what I was seeing, and felt the same stones on his palms. It gives me the chills just thinking about it. This alteration in perception is an undeniable gift of God.

After such an emotionally enriching (but draining!) day, it was time to relax and settle onto the rooftop.

One more photo

I'd be waking up in just four short hours.

With love,

Humbled and Holy Aubs