End of the End for This Blog

I left off with this on January 1, one day short of both my 21st birthday and my final departure from Israel. I figured it was time to maybe add some more thoughts, as well as an admittedly not-so-thrilling account of my final day in Israel and the journey back home. I include it for completeness' sake. :)

All my stuff, except that which I needed to sleep, wash myself and keep myself amused until it was time to go was already packed away when I woke up on January 2. My two suitcases and carry-on sure as hell didn't look like much. Hard to believe that's all I had brought with me. As my mother has pointed out in the months I've been back in the US, I didn't really acquire much additional stuff while I was in Israel. I got to there in August thinking "I'll be here for a while, settle down first, and pick up souvenirs along the way." To an extent I did, but not much. I've brought back more seashells from a weekend surf trip in Mexico than I did trinkets from five months in Israel. I never really did get to the big shopping spree I figured I would do someday, but I don't feel like there's anything I missed, either.

Anyway, Beth was already gone, Nari had finals, I forget where Marina was, but I had time to kill before catching the shuttle to Ben Gurion. I called Marnie and Anna, and we sat in Aroma for a while celebrating my birthday as best we could with me leaving in a few hours. We talked about going home, which neither of them would be doing for a while, and made each other laugh. Walking back to the dorms, it was drizzly and I could see even more gathering storm clouds.

One of the depressing parts was that I didn't really get to say goodbye to a lot of people. I was leaving in the middle of finals week, not knowing when everyone else's finals were, so a lot of people weren't around the dorms when it was time to go. I didn't even get to see Nari before leaving, I just called her from the airport. Anna hung around for a while, but there wasn't much to say or do. I had said goodbye to Leora, Torin and everyone else I knew I wouldn't be seeing again a few days ago.

It was full out raining and really damned cold when I pulled my suitcases out the door, locked it and turned in the keys to the office a short walk away. I kind of huddled under the bus stop where the shuttle comes to, hoping my last contact with Jerusalem wasn't going to be this depressing, but knowing the prospects weren't good. I talked to a few people on the phone to pass the time, and harassed the shuttle central operator guy when the shuttle was late and I started to worry about getting to Ben Gurion on time. Even after five months I couldn't accept the Middle Eastern concept of time, probably because I wasn't confident El Al would operate on the same time the Nesher sherut did. :)

Finally it came, and the people on it were extremely nice, and I warmed up as I tried to identify streets and buildings in the wet dark through the window, knowing if I ever saw the city again it wouldn't be for a long while. On the drive towards Tel Aviv, the guy sitting next to me, a middle-aged man from Rochester, asked about what I'd been doing for the past few months, and told me how he'd come to visit his son, who was there on an education/kibbutz trip. He (the father, not the son) was on the same flight out as I was.

I remember that the airport was probably the most depressing part. I was happy to be going home, and thinking about all the great experiences I'd had, but that pretty much just wound me up in a sad way. Everything felt melancholy, I was all alone in this airport, I hadn't been able to see Nari or Marina before going, Beth was already gone, Anna and I hadn't had much to say to each other at the end, feeling pretty sad about being separated, and I hadn't gone to see Jack and his family since Christmas. My last contact with Jerusalem had been rainy and dark and crammed into a shuttle, cold and wet, and I couldn't really look back at the city at all or see much of anything along the way. And my last contact with Israel for a long time at least was going to be with bored airport workers, who once again singled me out for scrutiny. Since I'd had it happen so many times, I didn't blame them. I must fit some kind of profile, or something. I just felt sad.

Then I called my parents, and felt better that someone around me (metaphorically, I guess) knew how big this was, how important. They wished me a happy birthday, and I thought about how this was my weirdest birthday ever. My old friend Tracy called later to say happy birthday too, and talk about how we'd be seeing each other soon. I remember one of the airport workers got all excited that I had a David Broza CD in my suitcase, and asked me if I spoke Hebrew. I should've worn my Hebrew U t-shirt, they might have let me through faster. :) Finally, I sat down in my plane seat and found the guy from the Nesher sherut next to me. I felt better.

The plane ride home, from Tel Aviv to Toronto to Los Angeles, was shorter in hours than my original LA to JFK to Tel Aviv flight, and I could feel it. I slept much better than I had then (probably helped that I wasn't sick) and found myself in Toronto, about five hours from home, before I knew it. As we were landing, the guy from the Nesher sherut sitting next to me turned to me to say that he wanted to thank me for just being here. He said his wife, whom he'd met on a trip to Israel when they were young, had recently died, and her name had been Hannah. He was stopping at the Toronto layover, so he could get to New York, but he said he felt glad to have met a young woman coming home from Israel, who understandably reminded him of his late wife. I didn't really know what to say, I imagine no one does to that sort of thing, and hopefully he wasn't expecting anything really profound out of me. It certainly seemed like he was happy just saying it.

All of us going on to LA were told to wait in a large room, it took about an hour. Some of the Orthodox Jews on the flight gathered in a corner of the room, and put on their garments to pray. I read the end of Karen Armstrong's book on Jerusalem, which fittingly is the part that deals with it's most recent history as a contested Israeli capital. I don't really remember anything of the hours spent on the plane after Toronto, until we started circling over LAX and I cursed the El Al organizer people for not giving me a window seat so I could see the coast and the Pacific. US customs was a breeze, even though it was c-r-o-w-d-e-d. US citizens got different check-in areas, and there seemed to be fewer citizens coming in that day than foreigners. I got my baggage, and went out to see my parents for the first time in a long while. LA's never looked prettier, even though the partly cloudy, slightly drizzly weather had followed me all the way back from Jerusalem.

So it's been almost four months since I came home. I've gone through another quarter of UCSD, moved into a condo in Del Mar with roommates and finally get to drive around whenever I want. I'm sure everyone knows the indescribable comfort to being home, and even though I'm not living at my parents' house anymore, Southern California is home.

Funny thing about language (and I'm soon to be a poli sci and linguistics major now, too, so I think about these things) is you can't avoid ambiguity with words and sentences. It's amazing how many different things can be said with the same configuration of words, even the same word. You have to have context or it makes no sense. A couple weeks ago, on a trip to Baja, when trying to say "back to the hotel," the word "home" kept popping into my mind. For eighteen years, home was my parents' house in San Juan Capistrano, CA, and nothing else. Now, even though I would never say I am from anywhere but California, I easily said "home" when referring to my old dorm rooms on the UCSD campus, to the Hebrew U meyunoht I lived in for five months, even to various hostel rooms in Eilat, Tel Hai, Cairo, Petra, and Mexico. I kind of like not knowing where my next home will be.

The news from Israel since I left has been difficult to believe. Everyone's talking optimism in the news, thinking this could be a turning point. I'd be fascinated to know what's going on behind the scenes, both in Sharon's offices and Abbas'. The other day I caught my breath when I saw the headlines "16 dead on Israeli buses." It was in Beersheva, not Jerusalem, or one of those dead could easily have been Anna, Torin or Marnie, or anyone else I know who's still there. So instead of worrying about them I just read the accounts of two buses blowing up and bodies being strewn about the wreckage.

I know it won't stop, at least not for a while, but I really want it to. Sounds kinda childish, but there it is. I'm thankful that my memories of my stay for the most part weren't dominated by that situation. It's nice to think that even though it seems like life there must be pain all the time, it really isn't. It's beautiful sometimes - most times, for me. I wish it were the same for everyone. If I ever get the chance to go back, I'll jump at it. I already talk about it all the damn time. :)

Here's hoping it won't be long until home is somewhere new again. My last home was pretty amazing.