Tuesday morning I woke bright and early to work on a paper. 11 O'clock arrived with a nation wide security test. Sirens wailed all over the country, and those who felt like it, went to the local bomb shelter, or hid under a bed, or just spread out on the floor. Luckily, I lived in a bomb shelter, so I could go on working.
Wednesday was it, the last, the very last. I had mostly finished packing on Monday, but had not finished the work and finals. Consequently, I didn't sleep Tuesday night, but rather lay in bed overwhelmed with the work I had left, and less so but more importantly my final steps in the Judean Hills. I had barely studied for my last exam, and had more to write on my Israeli Settlements paper. So after hours of failed sleeping and thoughts of missed sights with dreams of future adventures zigzagging through my imagination, I left my bed at 4am and worked on my paper with the sunrise. Then, I prepared for the main event of my last morning- Arabic. Along with a dialogue with my teachers, and a written piece, I think I heard more Arabic on this last day than any prior one, and I thought how unusual of a memory this would be, considering that I knew so much more Hebrew. I guess I had learned something afterall about an oral style of a language, after being tested on it in English. After the test, I had to run back to my room to put a stopper on my paper, and check out with the Rothberg staff. From there, a day like any other in Israel began; a day full of surprises and cultural discovery.
How about spending my last lunch in Israel at an Ethiopian restaurant? We used a very unusual type of break called injera and dipped it into a variety of lentils, meats, and vegetables. The bread is made of teff flour, and has a high iron concentration, but felt like a soft sponge to the touch.
After lunch, I surrendered my phone to the post office next door, eliminating any form of contact, since the internet in the apartment was disabled. I hit up the serious tourist shops, something I hadn't done yet, and walked to the Western Wall. The 90+ degree weather made the trek difficult, but I made sure to try a diffferent route, so I first entered Jaffa and took the Roman Decumanus to the Cardus Maximus. There I stopped at another post office to buy some special stamps from the Pope's visit. Then I visited the parking lot in the Jewish Quarter. Why such an insignificant site? Because remnants of an enormous Byzantine Church were found just below it, and I wanted to keep my achaeological site seeking streak solid. Then I went to the Kotel for the last time, at a time when there were hard hats on a crane, right up against the Wall. They appeared to be pulling out weeds from the very top, but regardless it was really hot outside, and nearly empty of guys except inside. I spent a nice long time there, telling a begger to get money using different means, and trying to get a ticket to the Western Wall Tunnel Tour, in the tradition of my Dad's last day, a few months back, but it didn't work. So, overexausted dehydrated and hungry Ira punched out some of the rides on his children's bus pass and returned to the village.
My last dinner had to be something special. Waffle Bar. yeah, special. I returned to the Student Village for the last time. Tils showed up, remembering that I was leaving and had no phone, and then after a nice chat I used her phone to contact Na'ama who wanted to come by before left. We talked about the experience from the students' and counselors' perspectives and summer plans. Before I knew it, and actually right before I was going to take a suitemate picture, the taxi called and I was on my way...
I had arranged to go to the aiport with Larissa, who I had found one row behind me on my third flight on the way to Tel Aviv in January. We were taking the same flight back to London. We also had severely overweight luggage, so we managed together. At the shops I sent a postcard, and ate my last meal, finally, at the kosher McDonalds, at about 5am.
The flight to London was fine and fast, only five and a half hours. At Heathrow, I was introduced to the European-American fear of fluid, when I was stopped at customs for carrying Men's Ahava Shower Gel, a gift I had purchased on my last day for my allergist. Sorry Dr. Klein, but this stuff is just too dangerous.
I passed the time with another Rothberg student, heading back to San Francisco. We had breakfast and I enjoyed an unusual but tasty muesli sort of smoothie. Unfortunately, though, after I emailed my parents saying the flight to Philly wasn't delayed...it was! About an hour. I remind you dear readers that while I was avoiding the internal discussion as to why I was leaving Israel, and why so early, since I had a graduation to attend in the evening. I now had no idea how late I would arrive, if I would have to take my first Taxi in the United States, or if customs would catch the 2kg of sunflower seeds I had in my bags.
I passed the time watching both Pink Panther 2 with my earphones, thus saving the American Airlines fee of $3 for headphones, as well as Dark Knight on the computer.
After entering the overcast skies of the northeast, we descended into a rainy Philadelphia afternoon. It was my first exposure to precipitation in almost two months. I passed immigration with my chocolate Bamba, found my mother in the parking lot, and while she drove me home, through the terrible but typical Philadelphia highway traffic, I thought about how much smaller the streets felt to me, even though the middle eastern roadways were so narrow and winding.
I spent about ten minutes at home, where I showered and changed and then jumped back in the car with Mom to get to Shoshboat's graduation. We took the same roads I had driven for six years to high school, but this time, once again, I was looking at them with different eyes. The trees were much taller than most in Israel, and in order to think of an equivalent area where there was so much foilage, I though of Rehavia, one of the Jerusalem neighborhoods, where Jason's Tomb is located. Internally I was fully aware that in a matter of hours to days I would resettle into the norms I had grown to take for granted here, such as the automatic hot water, grass, rugs, and Tastycakes, but for the time being, after 24 hours of travel, through three timezones, I was a stranger to this home.
We had to park three blocks away and run through the rain, but we made just in time for me to run behind the doors to the crowd of near-graduates and faculty to give Shoshi a hug. The graduation ceremony in itself was one of the most informal productions I had ever seen associated with my alma mater, but it was fantastic and very funny. The most shocking moment of all was when Tom McLaughlin, my 12th Grade English teacher, gave the graduation address, He began by informing everyone about the new birth of his son, and how this had taken its toll on the speech since it no longer meant that he and his wife were awake at the same time of day, and she was his favorite editor. His son's name is Ira. T-Mac then went on to say that he had only tauight one Ira, and he was here today, from the class of 2006, a Jonathan Safran Foer enthusiast, right off the plane from Israel, "and yes Shoshi, I worked you into the speech." My family and I were speechless and I was hiding my head in my lap. When I later found T-Mac with his newborn and played with little Ira's baby fingers, Tom said he had intended all along to mention me, but when I said hi to him when I saw Shoshi, he worked in a little more. T-Mac also made references to other alumni, and taught a short lesson about a passage from The Scarlet Letter. There was also a fantastic student address by Joey Chriqui about the Seniors' struggles adapting to the new building and name. The food that followed was great, there were many faces I hadn't seen in a while. I barely had a clue where I was, and certainly had no concept of time, I was glad I had made the arduous trans-Atlantic trek to the ceremony.
Photographs
p.s. I put this up late, but here's my visit to Ashkelon
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