Its About To Get Israel

Grant Goes Abroad in Jerusalem

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Israel-ly Over

For a guy who feels guilty days after going in the “out” door to Target (which is remarkably always the closer of the two) to go to one of the most conflict ridden countries in the world - I’d say it’s inevitable that I was stretched beyond belief.  It wasn’t always easy and was riddled with many tiny failures but I sure picked up lots of lessons along the way. In order to wrap up my Israeli adventure I thought I’d share a few of those lessons here with you. Now May, 4 months after Israel, these are the ones that stuck:

1. Being different is hard. You will get attention. Use it wisely.

2. You are capable of so much more than you believe.

3. Fight fire with fire and you get burned.

4. Fear is useful. Faith is useful too. Find the balance.

5. Religion is about a belief in faith and mystery not certainty. (Brené Brown)

6. To find yourself you must be lost. Being lost isn't easy.

7. Appreciation and respect are unique forms of love.

8. Find your home. Understand its different than where you live. Take diligent care of it.

9. Food is magic. The good stuff feeds your body, mind, AND soul.

10. Don’t do it for the Instagram - or anything else for that matter. Do it for you and only you.

11. When in doubt: smile. It freaks people out.

So with that, I put my Israel blog to bed. I have had so much fun sharing my experiences here and have so appreciated all of the support - near and far - that has helped me through the highs and lows. I end with these two quotes from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein that have always reminded me of how challenging but inspiring travel can be.

“Learn from me, if not by my precepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge, and how much happier that man is who believes his native town to be his world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature will allow.”

But, still:

“It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical, or in it highest sense, the physical secrets of the world.”

One final time - תודה רבה

Grant

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Mmmm.

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Roaming around Ramon | רמון

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Makhtesh Ramon | מכתש רמון‎

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Ein Avdat National Park | עין עבדת

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Mystical Tzfat | צְפַת

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Bar Mitzvah (& Ruth) in Tzfat | בַּר מִצְוָה

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Roman Around.

I didn’t know how much I needed green.  As my plane started it’s descent, I opened my window to a sea of something other than fifty shades of beige. My heart started to sing as we broke through cloudy skies lined with Catholic crosses and red rooftops.  A few droplets of welcoming rain made their way across my window - as if to tell me I had escaped the desert and finally made my way to Italy.

📍Just outside Roma, Italia the wheels hit the runway and I rolled through the Leonardo da Vinci Airport. After two trains and an hour of wandering - full of many expressive gestures from locals attempting to point me in the right direction - I finally found my Airbnb and my Italian expert, Cara, inside. 

This is Cara. Italian adventuress, puffy vest wearer, resident Elon riffer, and my travel buddy in Rome! Our Roman-ce began when I found myself locked out of our place with the host (who forgot the key and responded with a “Mamma mia...”). I shouted her name across the sky and she heard me.  Eventually we were reunited on a spiral staircase leading up to a cloud where we spent two lovely nights falling asleep to Elf and Youtube videos of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.  After our first embrace we made our way down from the clouds and into the streets of Rome.

DAY 1

The Vatican City

Our first stop was a completely different country. That’s right, this 110 acre little bitty city is actually a sovereign state ruled by the man himself - Pope Francis.  I hope you’ve heard how dope the Pope is, and if not you’ll surely see by walking through the streets.  The Pope postcards and pins are rampant.  Cara and I grabbed some sacred Oreos instead and stood and stared at St. Peters Basilica.  

Night and day this place looks okay I guess. It’s pretty small and simple. Not very intricate, doesn’t take your breath away, and there certainly wasn’t a line stretching across the square to make one’s way in. I’m not even sad we didn’t have the time to see inside - I hear it’s pretty ugly anyways. Next.

The Pantheon

After walking a small way, the streets separated into a square with this at its center: 

The Pantheon. Looking pretty good for being almost two thousand years old. Once a Roman temple and now a Catholic church, its been in use since 126 AD and doesn’t seem to be stopping soon.  It’s beautiful dome is reinforced - making it the oldest in the world without assistance. I can hardly keep myself together and I’m only 20. Impressed.

The Trevi Fountain

Any true 90s kid remembers the moment that Lizzie McGuire tosses her coin into this fountain and ends up with a dream come true.  When Cara and I threw ours in we forgot to wish...but seeing this beautiful fountain in person is a dream come true too.

Zara & Gio Roma 1886

We finished our first day with some Black Friday shopping and some chicken nuggets. That’s right - Black Friday shopping and chicken nuggets. Since the restaurant only served wine by the bottle we thought - what the heck, when in Rome. And I’ll blame this for the fact that I then left all of the things we bought just before in the corner of the restaurant. Honestly - it’s probably just me, but either way our wonderfully strange waiter managed to hold it for us until the next morning. Grazie a Dio.

Our Roman Holi-Day 1 had come to a close. We rode the Riesling back to our room, popped in Elf, and promptly passed out as the Narwhal said goodbye to Buddy. As he headed to New York we headed to bed - excited for take two of our Roman adventure.

DAY 2

Buddy’s

The next morning, Buddy came back to us in a different form - breakfast.

Buddy’s gave these two Americans exactly what they needed and more - eggs, toast, pancakes, fruit, a delicious smoothie, and the star of breakfast itself: the life-altering Italian cappuccino that could answer all of America’s problems - or at least help us find some common ground. (Yikes.) Now full of calories and caffeine, we stood from our chairs and took to the streets. 

Take Me to Church

Just a few steps into our itinerary we ended up a little distracted. By this...

...and this...

...and also this...

...are you kidding. Cara and I practically fainted in each church we passed through.  They kept getting more beautiful and even more over the top.  Some even played the Hallelujah Chorus over their speakers as if to say, “Hey, you’re in a church - just in case you didn’t notice.”

Honestly, I wonder how God feels about this - if he’s like “Omg, thank you so much,” or like, “Y’all chill.” Idk - must be weird to be God. Glad I’m not him.

Spanish Steps

Finally, after our little detours we found our way to the Spanish Steps! 

That’s right kids! You can stand on them. Sit on them. Walk up them. And maybe even walk down them. Here you’ll also find a bunch of other confused tourists thinking, “What am I supposed to be doing here again?” and then snapping a picture just because. Here’s ours:

Altare della Patria

To make up for my strange and unrealistic expectations for a flight of stairs - on our way to our next destination we ran into a another small monument.

Tiny, right? When walking in, the attendant explained, “This is a soldier’s memorial - please do not sit, smoke, or eat.” One soldier’s memorial? Must have been important - yeah? No. They literally don’t even know who this was, hence the name The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I just imagine this guy in his afterlife, shivering in a random dark corner, thinking hehehe.

Okay, Wikipedia tells me the tomb (above) is only a part of the monument - but still, I’ll be taking notes from this guy. Thank you for your service unknown man and thank you, especially, for this amazing view.  

The Roman Forum

Just a couple of steps away are some major Roman ruins that put most others to shame.  While we didn’t get to walk through them, passing by you can sense their significance.  With construction beginning in 8th Century BC these buildings are some of the oldest on the planet - almost three thousand years. And it was somewhere around 500 AD when they began their decline. If you want to hear more about the forum you can click here. (So high tech.) 

The Colosseum

Beyond these crumbling pillars lies one of the coolest and most colossal crumblers of them all: The Colosseum.

We walked around, basked in its glory, and tried to imagine what went on here back in the early AD - gladiator contests, battles reenactments, executions, the first national tour of Mamma Mia.   

The largest amphitheater ever built - this place entertained up to 80,000 people at one time until earthquakes and stone-robbers decided to steal the fun.  Cara and I circled the upper and lower levels, continuing to peer into the underground passageways where wild animals and gladiators once waited before the games began - talk about high stakes. After enough imagining, we found an open arch on the outside of the arena and waited to watch the sun set over stunning Rome.

The Grande Finale

To finish off our Italian adventure we finally found what we’d been waiting for: the pizza and the pasta.  After wandering through the Italian ghetto and into a quaint vine-draped neighborhood with twinkling lights and cobblestone streets, we found a restaurant to fulfill our Italian appetites. We sat down and graced our faces with cheesy Margherita pizza and a personal pasta for ourselves. This stuff far surpassed my wonderfully authentic experiences at Olive Garden with Anna Tobin.  It might be hard to go back (but Anna, if you are reading this and have another gift card - please still invite me). 

Once our bellies were full and our hearts happy, we strolled back through the Italian ghetto arm in arm - mainly because we thought we heard a gunshot. We picked up the pace back to our place and passed out once again, sad our Roman Holiday had come to an end.

After a short sleep and a long time trying to find a taxi, I made it onto the plane headed back to Israel. Back to the crazies and the complex, the brown and beige, the slightly rude and a little prude. But thanks to Rome I was going “home” feeling relaxed, refreshed, inspired and a little like pop star Lizzie McGuire.

תודה רבה

Grant

[itsabouttogetisrael]

Bethlehem||Jerusalem 

Palestine||Israel

Arabs||Jews

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The Name Game.

My room is messy. I’m currently eating hummus out of a large tub with my finger.  America’s in flames. And my Mother just came to visit. Israel feels pretty good right about now.

It’s been a while and thats probably because - crazily enough - I’m finally a real student! Up until our final showcase in late October I have been doing Gaga and Vertigo workshops but since then school has been in session. I’m finally finding myself chasse-ing away with other Israeli students.

It has been great so far but not lacking the hilarious confusion that comes with “English-onlys” in Hebrew-taught dance classes.  And Hebrew names are hard. So therefore, I decided to nickname everyone instead. And teach’ by teach’ I’ll take you through my weeks.

Red

First we have have Red. Red is my Graham teacher - so named for her fiery red hair (and honestly for her left eye too - which is also pretty red).

Red walks in and starts rattling off Hebrew.  Brittney and I exchange a terrified look with our eyes.  We manage to make it through some contractions before our Hebrew speaking savior, Tair, steps in and explains that we don’t speak Hebrew.  Red responds with, “I speak with my body.” And on goes class.

Other than Red pressing down my feet to the floor and then marveling at how inflexible they are - I really like Red and I really like Graham.

Mops

Mops is cool. Mops and I have the same lulu shorts. Mops teaches Floor Work. And Mops is named Mops because in his class we transform into human mops and collect all that is left on the marley floors.  

They say they clean them every morning but I say impossible. I could create some incredible pieces of abstract art with the amount of long black hair I find attached to me.

A Little Too Pregnant

A Little Too Pregnant is a little too pregnant. She teaches Release. So honestly just hoping our “excess effort” is all that’s released in her class.

David Beckham

Who doesn’t love David Beckham? David Beckham teaches ballet, is the first and maybe only one to tell me good job (self-esteem woo), and doesn’t have a dress code. So, yeah, David Beckham is cool. And also slightly abusive - please enjoy these political excerpts from last class:

At the barre: “Rakel - can you moved forward? Brittney and Grant are trumped - I mean trapped in the corner.”

Walking past me: “And a trump plie.”

Giving a correction: “Dear Diary, I did my first real tendu on the day Donald Trump was elec...”

Too many face palms to count.  At least now I have more to be embarrassed about than my pirouettes to the right.

Tan Capezios

Tan Capezios is the real deal. He may wear the ugly stepchild of dance shoes but that makes him no less relevant - or Russian.  He’s the guy with the eye for my sad turn out and lets me know it at the beginning of every exercise.

He may not speak in English. He may come up, grab my inner thighs, gaze into my soul and say, “Out! OUT!”. And he may make me nervous sweat more than anyone ever has.  But I think I’m starting to appreciate our relationship. After just three classes we’ve developed a nice routine: He says my name from across the room and I attempt to fix everything wrong with me in 2 seconds flat.  

Although a pain in the hip flexors, it seems Tan Capezios has a heart. After a particularly trying class he found me on the way out, offered a “hacol beseder?” (everything alright?) with a light smile, and was on his way.

Feelings

For my final class of the week I have Feelings. I know - sounds horrible. I even debated dropping Feelings’ class. But then Feelings’ class made me feel something that made me think I’d better stay.

After being taught some repertory from his company we continued to explore a prompt he presented us with in the first class: what are we hiding? Individually we’ve been working on movement that speaks to our secrets and this past class he had us reveal it.  

One by one people got up and told their stories in movement.  Some were clear. Others more cloudy. But I found myself getting emotional seeing my friends - some whom I’ve lived with for two months now - share the hidden parts of their heart.  Their heartbreak, their hallelujahs, their hopes, and their humanity.  In a week riddled by complexity and confusion I finally felt a melancholy sense of unity and pride knowing that each person had their own hard stories to share. And I’m thankful that Feelings gave us the opportunity to do that.

And with that final class my second week of student-ing was complete and I have now learned all my teachers real names.  Luckily, the name game doesn’t just go one way - heres a short list of names I’ve been called here:

1. Joseph

2. Granite

3. Graham

4. Garrett

5. Greg

And honestly, the names are too funny to bother correcting people.  Here’s hoping the list grows in the seven short weeks I have left here. Soaking up as much sun I can get until I’m done.

תודה רבה

Grant

[itsabouttogetisrael]

A look at rehearsals for our showcase | #vertigo

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Dust to Dust.

I open my eyes, roll over, and check my clock:  20:30.  

I laugh - half embarrassed, half proud of my 8.5-hour nap in the middle of the day.  I roll back, stare at the ceiling for another 5 minutes, count off a 5-6-7-8 and lift myself out of bed.

Looking around at the things scattered on my floor, I find my Tevas – covered with the week’s worth of dust. I sigh, walk over to pick them up, and hold them under the shower water to wash away what’s left of my vacation.  I then put myself in their place and take my first shower in four days. Petra, Eilat, Haifa, and Tel Aviv peel off of me and roll down the drain.  In my mind I follow the dust back to where it belongs: each piece carrying a part of my Sukkot adventures.

THURSDAY’S DUST: Haifa

After a long and lazy two days of Yom Kippur I was done doing nothing. The fact that I did my run on the main roads of Jerusalem because everything was shut down tells you about how exciting my holiday was. If you’re not Jewish - Yom Kippur in Jerusalem is a sort of fun vacuum that ensures you do little worth noting on a travel blog. So - tired as I was of being a glorified turd - I turned off Netflix, grabbed my friend Katie, and said, “Let’s get out of here. How ‘bout Haifa?”

During a two hour bus ride north I flipped through my travel guide and mapped out the free must sees. I drew a line, starting at the top of Haifa’s hill, down the winding streets to pick up as many places as possible so that we finish by the sea. The planner’s heart in me raced as my magical line continued to work. From start to finish we puttered through Yefe Nof Street, Louis Promenade, the Baha’i Shrine and Gardens, the Vista of Peace Sculpture Garden, and the German Colony, until we proudly marched down the road to our final destination - the Carmelite Monastery and Stella Maris Church. But as we approached our ending site, there was nothing to be found.  My head shot around in panic as the perfectionist within me ached for leading us astray. I pulled out my map and whiningly explained, “It’s supposed to be the street just to our left!” - my eyes went that direction and met a cliff wall. My gaze wandered up until it reached the top. There it was - the church - half a mile above our heads. Ohhhhhhh.

I checked my watch - which said six - and being that the church closed in half an hour I thought we’d just have to accept defeat. As I bowed my head and began to put my map away, I felt Katie tap me on the shoulder. “What about that?” I looked up to where she was pointing.  Three orange spheres hung in the sky - being transported up the side of the mountain by a cable.  No way.  It was a cable car station - just ahead of us on our right.  We looked at each other, nodded in agreement, then fast walked to the station like true travel champions.  We rode our way up the mountain to a beautiful setting sun and entered the church ten minutes before it’s doors closed. My inner dialogue looked something like this:

We DID it. We DID Haifa. Start to finish. As I left the beautiful church I tossed up a thanks to the big man for making this day such a success.  He responded with a you’re welcome in the form of a gorgeous view of the sun setting on the sea just outside the church doors. And with that - the dust of Haifa finally settled. If you want to see more pictures of my day click here, but for now enjoy the grand finale:

FRIDAY’S DUST: Jerusalem

Today’s dust wasn’t much different than any average day in Jerusalem - it was the night that made it a little more special.  As the city shut down for Shabbat I walked downtown to finally met up with my little slice of Elon in Israel - Maya! I was so thankful for her and her friends in the Vertigo International Dance Program for being the best and for making me feel a little more home.  As we shared salmon, pasta, and our performing arts problems I felt like I was back home on the perfectly manicured lawns of Elon. A place I’ve been missing a lot lately. Shoutout to my wonderful class for holding down the fort - I love & miss you all!

SATURDAY’S DUST: Tel Aviv

After the great success of the previous night we decided we should to hang out some more.  We all agreed we’d need out of Jerusalem on Shabbat so when Saturday came we hopped into a cab and headed to my favorite antidote: Tel Aviv. Sun, sand, and cider in hand - I enjoyed collecting the well known city with old and new friends. Pinky’s up!

SUNDAY’S DUST: Eilat

And with those relaxing couple of days behind me, my Sukkot adventures finally began to take flight.  I woke up to the sound of my alarm in tandem with the morning prayer around 5:15, threw some last minute things into my bursting bag, and ran downstairs to meet Rachel. We boarded the earliest train and then the earliest bus to take us to our much anticipated destination: Eilat.

After enduring 5 hours of desert landscape out the window we finally saw the small resort town and the Red Sea spring up before us. We unloaded at Eilat’s central bus station and met David: the man with the tent and the desert tea.  Rachel and I found David in an unconventional Airbnb ad called “Behind the camels” and in reading the reviews we knew we had to go for it.  With two dreads down his back, tattered clothes, and no shoes on his feet we knew we’d be in for a unique experience and we couldn’t wait. We hopped in his sand covered, pseudo broken SUV and off we went into the desert mountains rising around us - smiling the whole way.  David pulled up to a rocky beach and with a crooked-toothed smile he handed us snorkeling masks, pointed to sea, and said, “I’ll be back at 6:00.” 

Thus began our six hours of relaxation and exploration.  We lounged around for a while with a view of Jordan and Saudi Arabia in front and Egypt on our side.  Then after feeling the infamous heat of southern Israel we decided to take the plunge.  Not even two feet out and we already began to see rainbow colored fish fluttering next to our feet. As unexperienced snorkelers we then choke-splashed our way along the shore spotting coral reefs down below and finally landed at a pier where we recuperated.  On the way back we had learned our lesson and began enjoying the beautiful reefs beneath us.  Ascending out of the water, we went directly to the nutella crepe stand, then the bar, and then to our final spot of the sea side restaurant.  With feet dangling over the water we had hummus, cocktails, a killer wasp attack, and lots of laughs.

Then it was six. We read David right and knew he would be late so we waited by the beach until the SUV emerged from the desert mountains.  This time it came with two Spaniards inside - our tent mates for the night: Paolo and Irene.  We made our way to the campsite within the rocky hills behind us. Once there, David led us up the side of a small mountain and we watched the moon rise. As he left to cook, Rachel and I laid in amazement as the full moon climbed into the dark desert sky.  

Soon enough David said he was baking the bread so we hobbled down the side of the hill to see. This process consisted of throwing the dough in the dirt and shifting the coals on top. Our eyes went wide. Irene - who ironically worked in food safety - couldn’t watch. But once he brushed the dirt off and set the bread next to baba ganoush we forgot everything. Dirt bread is surprisingly delicious. 

The evening finished by drinking sweet herbal tea and listening to an incredibly talented flamenco guitar player and his wife serenade us into shutting our eyes on our first day in Eilat.

MONDAY’S DUST: Eilat

As the moon fell and the sun rose, David greeted us the way he left us - with more food.  This time with the gosh darn best shakshuka this planet has ever seen. I mean, I’ve only had shakshuka one other time but this - this was a game changer.  Below is a picture of me achieving nirvana after having eaten this heavenly gift.

The Grant who did not know this shakshuka was sad and meek but post-shakshuka Grant understands the world and knows there is nothing that cannot be achieved. With our new found power we returned to the beach to conquer all of the suns rays and demand that the beautiful view look at us not the other way around. 

It’s a pretty good one, though.

But what came next was even better. The moment we’ve alllllll been waiting for - at least I have: CAMELS.

I’m not gonna lie. I was really good at riding camels. It might have been the shakshuka but I was really good at it. My camel, Naomi, and I formed a special bond by the end of our four hour ride and I’m pretty sure I saw a single tear fall from her eye as I left. But props to her for lugging my stomach full of shakshuka around for four hours. (Okay I’ll stop with the shakshuka now - but it was really good). Honestly, she’s the real MVC for taking me to a view like this:

On the descent, Naomi and I talked about life back in America and how hard it is for her to hear My Humps by Fergie and not feel sad as it perpetuates the idea that all she is good for are her humps.  She then talked to me about her camel dreams and plans... okay I’ll stop. But only because I ran out of things to say. Here’s another pic of us having fun during our down time. I always know how to make her laugh.

After embracing Naomi for the last time, we headed back to the campsite for some more dirt bread.  This time with a family of four from Scotland who spoke really good English. After ladling the remaining baba ganoush into my mouth with my hand and killing the vibe I decided it would be best to get some rest.  Tomorrow was when the real dust would begin.

TUESDAY’S DUST: Petra

The sun rose in a foreshadowing on what would be a beautiful day. At first it didn’t seem so: We were yelled at for being early for our tour, then I almost didn’t get across the Jordanian border because Israel decided to expire my student visa early because Israel is dumb. But I left Israel and it’s issues behind me as soon as I saw the tops of the Jordanian mountains.  Once we were beneath them things got even better.

Our bus made its way into Wadi Musa (the valley of Moses) and eventually stopped at the entrance of the lost city of Petra.  We unloaded, avoided obnoxious vendors, and finally entered the canyons of Petra. Check out these rocks.

After about thirty minutes of wandering between warped red rock walls - the landscape opened up to this:

The 2,000 year old Treasury. It took 100 laborers 20 years to carve this temple out of sandstone rock. I’m 20 and I still haven’t learned how to stop biting my nails.  We stood there for almost 30 minutes just staring. The only thing that distracted us was the prospect of pomegranate juice. We bought a drink and by then it was unfortunately time to head back to the bus.  Organized tours, man.

Luckily we knew we wanted some alone time with Petra so we opted for the two day package.  Little did we know they’d give us some alone time and escorted Rachel and I to the romantic Candles Hotel in Wadi Musa. Cue confusion and Rachel’s giggly disbelief: 

WEDNESDAY’S DUST: Petra

The next day, the lovely couple slept in until 10:00. We scarfed down some pita and hummus and hit the road back through Petra.  This time we planned to hike to the Monastery - the furthest point within Petra.  We passed through the canyons and beyond the towering treasury and a whole new Petra opened up before us. Hundreds of mausoleums carved into the sides of mountains...

...an ancient amphitheater for my own personal performance...

...and tons of other ruins and rocks to explore:

Next came the climb to the Monastery.  A trail labeled “hard” which the young and spritely Rachel and Grant scoffed at.  We shouldn’t have scoffed.  We were heaving the entire way up the 850 mountainous steps - stopping for breathers and pictures every 50 feet or so:

After about an hour and a half we didn’t know how much further we could go until we heard a Arabian woman’s voice softly say, “You made it.” We turned the corner and - wow.  Both Rachel and I started tearing up as we stood with mouths agape, staring at the massive Monastery before us.

This thing is HUGE. And totally worth every step. We looked at it from every which way until we absolutely had to go and carried the feeling of it towering above us with us as we went.

The descent was a little more decent. We walked back down, passing donkeys carrying those less committed up the side of the mountain and avoided vendors selling us tiny trinkets for next to nothing. After exiting we slowly trudged towards a bus waiting to pick us up - half exhausted and half wishing we didn’t have to leave.  The comforts of our new home called us back across the border and to the Eilat seaside again for an immense ending to our journey away from Jerusalem. 

THURSDAY’S DUST: Early Morning Eilat & Home by Noon

Our final day away began at midnight. The Wednesday evening leading into the new day held a stressed Rachel and Grant looking desperately for a place to stay, meeting some drunk man offering us a place at The Shelter Hostel, and eventually finding out it was a nice Christian mission project where copies of the New Testament we’re handed out - we’ll take it.  We dropped our stuff off and returned to the beach to embrace the night life at the Red Sea Beer Festival in Eilat.

After pumping our fists to an old Jewish man and his rock band I checked the map back to the hostel. In my searching I discovered it locks its gates at midnight.  It was 12:01.  We were 20 minutes away.  And they don’t open back up until 6:30 in the morning.  As I burrowed my head in the sand two guys came up and told us about a rave at the Camel Ranch - the same place we had just ridden camels two days before.  We turned to each other and said what the heck - let’s go.

As our taxi puttered through the sandy streets back to the desert, we heard pounding bass and saw this out our window:

Our souls were revitalized as we made our way into what was apparently the Paradise Festival - a traveling rave that just so happened to land in Eilat on this very night.

From 1 until almost 5 in the morning we kicked, jumped, and fist pumped with the best of them until finally we had run out of steam. We taxied back to the city center to wander through the streets to kill time. 

On our way back we found a cat...

...our tour bus that took us to Petra...

...and eventually another beautiful sunrise.

Finally the time hit 6:30 and the gate to the hostel creaked open with the sound of sweet freedom.  I quickly grabbed my bag and ran to the bus station to purchase a one way ticket out.  At 7:00, I boarded a bus that read “יְרוּשָׁלַיִם” and after four crazy days I was finally headed home to Jerusalem.

My big green bus rolled into the station around noon and after a short train ride home I rolled straight into bed.  Next thing I know I was opening my eyes, rolling over, and checking my clock: 20:30. And I decided I was done collecting dust - at least for a little while.

תודה רבה

Grant

[itsabouttogetisrael]

Paradise Festival at the Camel Ranch | פרטי

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Red Sea Beer Festival in Eilat | לחיים

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The canyons to Petra | البتراء

[itsabouttogetisrael]

Haifa | חֵיפָה

[itsabouttogetisrael]

Nothing.

This week I visited

I drank

I ate

I listened

I danced

I encountered

I made

I admired

I laughed

And I learned… 

I learned a lot about connecting and letting go. I was inspired by art. I was hurt by the violence here in Israel.  And then, I wondered. I wondered a lot. I wondered the most basic. And I wondered the most complex. And I found a sort of peace in a simple answer: Nothing.

I sat and thought about something. And I came up with nothing. Ooo cryptic, Grant, so cryptic. How ‘bout I cut to the chase and put my journal entry right here:

10 OCT 2016

I got out my journal because I wanted to think about something.

Everyone here is something.

They wake up and wrap something around themselves, they place something on their heads, they tie something around their waists.  They bring something everywhere, they say something to everyone, and they make sure - premeditated or not - that everyone knows they are something. 

As I wander around this place with my own jumble of somethings it makes me wonder if there is a power in them. Maybe in some ways, but in many more - maybe not.  These somethings keep complicating, confusing, and pushing other somethings away.  And I’m realizing the more you define what you are the less room you have for what you aren’t - what you could be.

We find security in being something. We paint a picture of ourselves and present it to others as a piece of performance art - for a just cause, to bring awareness to what we’re trying so hard to believe in - ourselves. 

What if we were nothing?  With no need to show anyone anything? We were just here to be. To grow towards the light like a mighty tree might.  To flow with the breeze like a tall stalk of wheat.  To be pressed deeper down in the rich soil ground by things all around so that rain from the sky might sink down inside our darkness and give us the strength to grow up. What if we were just a piece of earth? No more necessary or dignified than a small rock in a stream?

All I’m saying is, the opportunity to exist - to be - is all the beauty we require.  The layers we paint on ourselves and others don’t make anything more. They only obstruct the view. In the beginning there was nothing. So aren’t we nothing too? For some reason I find so much freedom, beauty, opportunity, and life in that. 

The painter has already painted the picture and they put down the brush - now we are just to be their beauty.  Don’t pick up the brush again.  It’s too heavy and has been dirtied by others using it too. Just be. And let all else be too.

That’s my wondering for the week.  Simply wondering - not too much of anything.  I do believe in something - Someone - and maybe that Someone is tired of us fighting over our other things. 

Woof, the DRAMA, Grant - Israel’s got me exhausted and inspired all at once.

And with that potentially inadequate and cryptic 2¢ - I am officially on break! 2 weeks away from school for me to SLEEP & EXPLORE & I can’t wait.  If you have any ideas of where to go & what to do - please.  Israel may be the size of New Jersey but its like a crazy fruit smoothie - one of those super healthy ones with a million things in it that sometimes tastes bad but after it you’re really glad you drank it.  

Can’t wait to drink this smoothie for the next two weeks.  Until then lehitraot - goodbye, for now!

תודה רבה

Grant

Extra: Here’s my reaction when I bought tickets to visit CARA in ROME for THANKSGIVING. Enjoy -