Be Strong -יום הזכרון; Be Happy - יום העצמאות‎

     Memorial/ Remembrance Day. I wouldn't call it the happiest day out of the year, although we should be celebrating life, the death's of soldiers that we knew, soldiers that we wish we knew, was overwhelming. The feeling of mourning still hanging in the stale air, no matter how many years has past since independence, and how many tears have been passed through our eyes. Last night we went to the Kotel, and had a Yom Hazikaron tekes there. Shimon Peres (The President), and a few other very, very important people spoke. I feel badly I don't recall their names, but one of them was a famous leader of the Palmach, who were the first and strongest combat unit. 

      The night was filled with tears and sorrow. We woke up, attended Hebrew, and then Jewish History, but instead of class we walked to the Kibbutz cemetery. (Here, I learned Kibbutz Tzuba is actually Kibbutz Palmach Tzuba, after the Tanack and then it's founders, the Palmach). The kibbutz held this tekes in special commemoration of their two lost boys from 1993 and 2002 or 2004. Compared to other kibbutzim, they had hardly lost any... other ranging in the dozens, but the families of these two boys were standing there today. They were there. One had an identical twin brother... Is that what he would of looked like if he were still alive today? There was a plaque with name of Palmach members who would of helped create the kibbutz only if they survived the Independence War. One saved the life of a woman who was supposed to be on guard that day in his position. Not sure if she was there, I knew she was thinking about the man who took a bullet for her. A speech was given, all in Hebrew of course, but I understood everything nonetheless. The feeling of loss is one dear to me from the last few weeks. 18 days to be exact. (Wow, Ironic..... חי,18, which means life). John came back to me today. His death has been no reality for me, but at the graves of the fallen, his smile came flooding back to me, his life had become a memory. These tekesim might have been about fallen soldiers, but I couldn't stop crying for my own personal loss. I held back tears thinking about John. I held them back as best I could.

     I thought about the envy I felt for Israelis during this day. They all know someone who has died fighting for their country. This makes their connection with Israel written in blood, and so extremely significant. Some, even, lost a family member (son, brother, daughter, sister, husband, wife) which buried their roots in the ground. How, how, how can I envy them? I have just lost a dear friend, and I cannot fathom my loss, but continuing to imagine it your child, or sibling? Envy? This is a very twisted reality in which we live, but it is. I feel such deep sorrow for the lives lost, and the family members who only have life to live and grab onto. Can sense be made out of what I am saying? I used to wish that I knew what loss felt like, that way I knew how to appreciate and understand when someone else goes through the same. So I could help comfort. I know loss, I hate it. I hate the feeling of nothingness in your stomach, the lightness of my head, the heavy weight on my shoulders, the screaming inside my mind, the whimpers streaming our of my eyes accompanied by tears. Envy? Do I envy this feeling, so I can understand what it means to be physically tied with the land? Yes, yes I do. But, at the same time, when will I be able to share with you that a lost friend, a lost family member, is loosing a piece of yourself? A piece never to be replaced, damned to stay empty forever. 

     I can see myself serving my country. I can see myself loosing friends, and Gd forbid my family. I can see it. I can see me in the future. These tekesim might have not meant so much to the other kids on EIE, but for sure it meant the world to me. I know loss. He wasn't a soldier, but he was a friend. I thought about him during the service, and cried for him too. I have a mission to accomplish in Israel. I really believe I do. This felt like phase one. Only the beginning.

     The importance of serving in the army has infiltrated my mind. From gadna, instilling my pride, and Jewish History, instilling my knowledge and history, today was a day for the dark underbelly of reality. What was the cost of my country? These soldiers, who were mere children. What, two, three, some four years older than I? The last 18 days have had me consistently thinking, what if I died? It's not a scary thought, because everyone does eventually... but it came down to the, "So what? It's one life out of many." I want to make a difference. An impact, and share my message. I don't care if I'm forgotten, I just want to live life, not let it pass by. Does that mean to do the normal things people do? Go to college, partying it up, forgetting that there is more life outside my window? Does it mean working mindlessly in an office to support a family that may or may not hold through years of wear and tear? What is life about? It's a question up for opinion... but it has been ringing in my ears with death larking behind, in the shadows of my mind. What is MY opinion, on how MY life should be led? I think I know what I want to do. I think I know how I want to help. But at the same time, I don't want to be one life out of many. I'd sacrifice my life for my country... but the question is would I be loosing a life of value, or of absent mindlessness? What does true sacrifice mean? What am I willing to risk?

     Be strong, was the words of Yom Hazikaron, and be happy are the words of tonight. Sunset ended Memorial Day, and started Independence Day. Yom Ha'tzmeut, the day we got our country. 61 years ago, I got a homeland, other than the one I was born into. My country, my home. I will probably talk more about it tomorrow night, but for right now all I can think about is what was this day worth? Were the lives lost worth this day? I believe so, but at the same time I always thought the people made the land holy, not the land making the people as such. When will Israel stop sacrificing it's sons blood for its mere survival? When?

Pride

     I have been meaning to share about my last tiyul on Wednesday, even though I haven't gotten around to it, I decided sitting in the bathtub warranted, I had time. (Yes, I'm actually just sitting in the bathtub... no reason... just bored).

     Anyway it was by far my best tiyul ever! It had a mix of every type of trip we have been on; historical site, hike, modern site, completely interesting, and relevant to today. We first went to מוזיאון מכון איילון (or Ayalon Institute), where the major Jewish defense force, Haganah, decided to put 40 people in top secret work, in an ammunitions factory. Hidden under a huge laundry machine (electric door, swinging the machine over), under a unsuspecting kibbutz, the people on this top-secret adventure helped the state of Israel to be born, by supplying the Haganah members with enough bullets to fight off enemies and win battles. The guide said that this was his favourite place in all of Israel, and I completely agreed with him. I think the underground ammunitions factory, right under the British noses at the ending of British Mandate of Palestine, is incredibly interesting and had my attention from the second we walked on the kibbutz, until we left the underground factory. The size of a tennis court, it put me in awe, realizing the bravery the workers faced... at any wrong move they could explode a bullet and endanger everyone. The immediate danger being the explosion, was worth wary, but it could also put the kibbutzniks who where unsuspecting of what was going on (called "giraffes") at the hands of the British. Everything about this place made me feel like I need to take responsibility and help my country like they did. Everything about this place made me proud to be living in Israel. It just made me feel so much about Israeli independence.

     If it wasn't clear before, this tiyul was about Israel's independence. We talked about the underground armies like Haganah (precursor to the IDF), Etzel, and even the terrorist organization Lechi. All Jewish groups, set on making a Jewish state, we saw the pride they felt for making our united people on our holy land a country. Already everything a country was, except a name, in the 40's, the UN decided to partition Israel into an Arab and Jewish State. Despite getting only desert, Jews accepted the agreement, and Arabs refused. 1947 starts the Independence War, continues through May 14th, 1948 (or Hay of Iyar), when Israel declares our selves a state, and then into November 1949, which ended the war. 

     On May 14th, 1948, in Tel-Aviv (because the road to Jerusalem is blocked off by enemy Arabs), David Ben Gurion declares us our State of Israel in Independence Hall, which was also one of the first homes built in Tel-Aviv, home to the first Mayor of Tel-Aviv, the first art gallery in Tel-Aviv, and now the first place Eretz Yisrael had Jewish Autonomy in over 2,000 years! I was completely swelled up with pride, while standing in Independence Hall.

     Later in the day, we traveled down Route 1, which was the Jerusalem Road, and pulled off. Taking a short hike, we found ourselves on the Burma Road. It was a road used to get to Jerusalem when the Arabs (in tribes and in British built fortresses) blocked the Jerusalem Road off and ambushed vehicles. It had an incredible view, as well as held a lot of importance when supplying Jerusalem during the war. 

     I can't explain as well as past blogs, the emotion I felt here, and the things I saw... but this entire tiyul was put together very, very well... I also felt soooo full of pride. Undescribable, really.

     Yom Hazikeron (Remembrance day), is tomorrow for all the veterans and fallen. One percent of Jews in Israel were killed during the Independence War, and since then, many from later wars and battles. Soon, too, is Yom Hatzmeut (Independence Day). The day after tomorrow (Memorial/Remembrance Day), in fact. I want to leave you with something during this trip that left an impression, but looking back on it, it was truly walking the Tel-Aviv streets, weaving in and out of history, that made it a big impact. So, although this blog is many random thoughts and emotions on the whole thing, I think the tiyul made me question myself. Where is my responsibility to the State of Israel? Does living here for four months fulfill it? To some it might, but the pride from way back in Gadna, all the way to Wednesday, tells me otherwise... It has been a question reoccurring to me at the most random of times, but over and over nonetheless; Where does my responsibility to my community and country begin? And where does it end, if there is such a thing?

Yom HaShoah

      As the sun falls behind the landscape, as noon becomes dusk and then dark, we start a new day in the Jewish world... יום השואה. The day to remember the Holocaust, where the world lost millions of innocents. Persecuted for faith, belief, or simply just senseless hatred, we lost our families, our friends, and our humanity by sitting by idly. Hopefully we won't forget, but like the Bar Kochva Revolt and numerous other massacres and tragedies faced by Jewry, things get lost...

    Tonight I attended a ceremony held by the Kibbutz, and then one by EIE. Whether in Hebrew or in English, and even bits of German, I felt the same no matter what. I could feel the despair and hopelessness from the time, and the hope and fear for the future. Things like that never get lost in translation. 

     I'm not sure what to think about the Holocaust. I was sitting in Auschwitz a mere 14 days ago. That very morning I was in Birkenau. A few days prior, I was walking through Majdonek. I don't know what to think yet. Sixty years of history being able to mull itself over, I have yet just begun the task to think and explore, in addition to attempt at understanding what took place. I guess it could be seen as wasting time; just thinking about it and trying to figure out complex details and innumerable accounts... but sometimes I feel just remembering is enough. Or at least on today, Yom HaShoah, remembering is good enough for right now.

Peanut-butter

     Well, I mean, since the last time I posted to now, I have been thinking a lot about John... and a lot about life. It's no surprise either, but I figure as long as it has been mad prevalent in my mind... from the time I wake up and go to sleep, it was worth mentioning. I wouldn't necessarily use the term better, but I am feeling... well, I feel more at ease about it all. (Maybe that wasn't the right word either). 

    Anyway, today, as still time will go on, and lives will be lived, EIE took a tiyul to Tel Aviv. It was a nice and easy tiyul. Most tiyuliem are interesting, and not to say this one wasn't, I just felt it was more of a extra weekend day than a class. It, again, was just simple and nice. I can't believe Israel could possibly get any more beautiful, but as the seasons are changing from winter to spring, the sun is getting warmer and the cool breezes more refreshing, and the flowers splash the entire hills of gorgeous greens with colour. I can't believe that the place I once just admired has turned into, what would seem to be, a mural covering my entire scope of sight.

     Aside from that, I don't have much more to report. There is one thing I have been meaning to do... but never got enough initiative to do until now. I know this experience has been wonderful, but I feel like a lot of the little things get lost. Sometimes I feel the little things in everyday life get swept away by the "message." So, for the rest of the entry I'll just talk about the little (VERY) random things, that I have noticed about Israel, about the program, about other people and about myself.

• I like it when this one guy prays. He hasn't failed to look like praying is the most natural and simple thing to do. I also love it when he leads services, he gets so into his speeches and makes me appreciate the Torah in a way I never thought I would. He makes the struggle of the Jewish people seem like it's a lesson to learn from, and what we go through everyday has an equivalent problem and the solution in Jewish texts, if you are willing to look for it and interpret it right.
  
• My Jewish History teacher is similar in the way he preaches about the Jewish people. The way he'll go on a lecture about some no-name and his boring story makes me interested in every detail mentioned because of the way he presents it, and shows passion about it. When a teacher cares about their students and the material they teach, I have found it makes the three hour class not long enough.
• I have been listing to more mellow and uplifting music while in Israel. While 'happy music' vs. 'angry music', isn't what I'm necessarily talking about, I realized the genres have kind of switched themselves to a more mellow sort.
• I used to feel complacent at home. Especially at school, when rarely I'd be sad or ever more rarely happy. Now, school here is way different and more... actually, its less formal. We call teachers by a first-name basis which originally greatly perplexed me. 
• In school, I actually care about the material! The numbers still matter to me, but at the same time if I fail a test, I'm more at ease because it's not because I wasn't interested or less-studied than the rest of my class... it's because I was having an off day, or I truly didn't care about the particular lesson and in my mind... that's okay. I think I have finally set my priorities straight here; Health, Happiness, Interests, Understanding, Grades.
• The toilettes here are cool because they have two handles/buttons things so you save a ridiculous amount of water. Also, in hotels and hostles (which is all we live in), all the toilet paper is just tissues. Because you're not aloud to rip or tear anything on Shabbat (if you are religious), they cater to possible guests staying there. I thought that was interesting.
• Also, in contrast to America, it is WAY more expensive to buy un-Kosher food versus Kosher. Some meat (or dairy) stores won't even let you come in if you have milk (or meat) in possession. 
• Toilet paper... it's essential to bring it everywhere you go. Despite if you need to go to the bathroom (and chances are the gas station you stop at won't have any), it doubles as tissues, quick things to write a note on, if you make a mess, and basically any other minor needs.
• Cigarettes. Everyone smokes in Israel. I think a few people had a culture shock when meeting other teenagers, or seeing pious people smoking. I found it kinda funny, to say the least.
• Taking notes in a binder/notebook that goes from right to left is much easier than from left to right. Whether you're writing in Hebrew or English... it just seems easier.
• Dates... it makes me question why Americans do some things! We right out dates from month, to date, and than year. I like day, month, year... it makes more sense. I never thought about it before coming here. 
• Hummus (pronounced the guttural: CH-OOO-MOOSE) is a condiment for anything called food. It is also heavenly from Abu Ghosh...
• Sinks are outside of most bathrooms and restaurants for religious people to wash their hands. 
• Watching TV is fun in any language. Wether its Gossip Girls, or Euro MTV, or Indian soap operas and game shows... there is no doubt we get the most interesting channels. 
• Political parties in Israel are.... well, aside from being the typical political party, they are innumerable and some quite ridiculous. My favorite? The Pot/Holocaust Survivor Party. You think I'm kidding? Their commercial was even funnier...
• There are cats everywhere. Apparently there was a rodent problem so they thought they would solve it with cats... But, that's alright.. I now have a pet cat, Twitch. She's a sweetheart.
• America is actually a Christian society. I never could realize this because I never knew there was something different. Living in Israel, I can see the way two Westernized, modern, and technologically advanced countries could be so different. From the food, to culture, to the everyday sayings and euphemisms, I would have never guessed. 
• Growing up, going to camp every summer, I wondered how it would be like to go to school... but at camp. I found out. It's amazing... but on the same token, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't realize it's the people... not the place that makes it what it is. I miss my friends from camp... and from school back in the US.
• Vegetables are all fresh and amazing here. I might not be able to get used to pesticide, frozen, and unfrozen veggies again. *yuck*
• I have an unhealthy addiction to soda and cranberry juice. I stopped drinking soda last week... but I can go through a bottle of cranberry juice in two to three days (an hour if I'm trying). I also never realized how much water you need to drink!
• Taking photos of what I see here is useless. My camera always forget to capture the smell, the sunlight or cool wind, and the essence of what's happening. Also, the experiences and information. I just gave up on taking photos...

Well, that's all I have for now... but I guess that's enough random thoughts to last for a while. If I can think of some other things that might get lost in translation from daily life to morals of my life's story.. I'll be sure to post them. Oh wait.. one more:

• No one here eats peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches!!!!

Forgotten Time

Today, a new day.

I have to continuously remind myself to breathe. 

To take in my experiences, and accept them.

     My last blog was about Poland, but was written at Noa's home in Jerusalem, during Pesach. Leaving her house, my sister and I were going to Yam L'Yam, a five day journey from the Kineret to Mediterranean Sea. I was excited, but also at the same time, I was truly emotionally drained and the physical drain was not all that welcomed.

     I could comment on each of the five days individually, and what we hiked. But I'll make that short as possible, because even pulling those memories to the front bore me, because it is what I saw and not did, that made it a great hike. Day one was a 500 meter hike through a river/stream that led to the Kineret. It was fun, and the water came up to our waists at some point... but knowing me and my group, it's no surprise every single las tone of us (including the Madrechiem) were soaked head to toe by the end of this small endeavor. Day two was a short circle-hike because of Shabbat, so instead of starting our journey we just visited a nice area with pools of water. Day three started the impossible day of hiking up Mount Hermon, which is the second tallest mountain in Israel, to my knowledge. It wasn't easy, but the view across the north of Israel into Lebanon was definitely rewarding. From here we could also see our starting point in the distant mountains which we were woken up at 5:30 that very same morning. It was incredible to see what we accomplished in one day's time. We slept in a camp site on the mountain and headed down the mountain the next day. It was a easy 'stroll' down the mountain, but the view was fantastic all the same. On the way down, I can't tell you how many dead animals we saw! It was a truly odd thing to state, but by the end of that fourth day, I could pick out the smell of dead boar/pig/cow/jackal/& unidentifiable from a good 500 meters away! Those encounters aren't what I'd call fun, but boy oh boy was it an interesting day...

     Day four. Day five. I wish this transaction between the days was as easy as the first four nights. I went to sleep, it was gorgeous outside, sleeping in a sleeping bag under the innumerable stars squished between two friends, and a few others crowding around. It was supposed to be the best night of Yam L'Yam. An hour or so after drifting off... Rachel woke me up crying. I don't remember what she said, I only remember bits and pieces of it. The only words I herd before I broke out in hysterics was John Klingert is dead. I broke down in hysterics, I wasn't sure if I was crying or screaming at any given point. I nearly threw up after getting out of my sleeping bed with no shoes, no glasses, no inkling of sanity. I can only recall half mumbling to myself that it was impossible. He wasn't dead. My friend from school, who meant so much to me. He couldn't have died! In the middle of my mumbling I started to scream. I knew what had happened immediately: Suicide, Route 78, a fight?, crying, wandering along the highway alone, the bridge, his bike?, his sister, his mom, his father, Mike, Andrew, our lunch table. In 30 seconds it all made sense and yet still I couldn't believe it. John was dead. The only guy from Warren I have liked since elementary school. On top of that, he was one of my only close friends. From the day I met him at the Expo last year, to the day I said goodbye to embark on a four month journey... never. Never would I have thought that the guy I thought so much about wouldn't be there to hug when I came back to school. Or talk about life when the rest of our lunch table had gone to lab. Or scare me out of my mind when he nearly rode me over with his bike. He wouldn't be there to tell his funny stories anymore. He also wouldn't be there to listen. He also wouldn't be there to make me smile everyday, when school couldn't get any harder. He wouldn't be there anymore. He just wouldn't.

     I don't remember going to sleep that night, but I do remember waking up. Maybe I whimpered? I don't know. I checked my Ipod in the hopes it wasn't the day I thought, it wasn't the time I thought, what happened last night was a dream. A horrible nightmare... after all, I have had realistic dreams where I thought people I cared about died. I got up. I looked around. And I remember crying with my sister, hugging her tight. I remember being comforted by Martine, and later by a few other friends. I remember the counselors.. and I remember Josh's face. Rachel, Josh, and I had lost a great friend... it was no dream. It was a nightmare.

     I don't want to talk much more about it, because I'm not even sure screaming and crying was the last of my reaction. Martine thinks I haven't even began to react. I'm not sure myself, but I definitely say the last day of Yam L'Yam, biking to the Mediterranean Sea made me feel... so alive, and yet at the same time, emotionally drained from Poland, physically drained from the week of hiking, and kind of broken on the inside knowing I'd have one less person to see when I get back.

     I have talked to my close friends from home, and I guess I do feel.. better? If I can use that word. I have been having a tough week... not much more can describe it. But, for my essay to UMC, which my Mom had excitedly told me I could apply for!, I wrote this essay in maybe 15 minutes... I think writing has always been my out.. it was always made me feel better;

Pretend that you could go back in time and change one big decision you made. Why would you change your mind, and how would it impact the rest of your life? 

     Time is a tricky thing, filled with unusual quirks like skipping and falling behind hours, as well as the notorious minutes that feel like they stretch beyond days. Time can be frozen in a photo, or captured in a memory, and can even in modern times, be replayed on tape. One thing I could never understand though, is how someone can relive the past. Relive the experiences they once had and then alter them, that is. It’s a contortion of the truth; in all seriousness, a question I often thought about was not if I could relive the past, but what if I could simply erase a bad memory or change the outcome of a faulty or hastily made decision.

     It’s quite clear the question was asked in hypothetical terms, but I could never think of a major decision I have made and not seen the ways it impacted my life. I wouldn’t mind changing my hair colour, or maybe deciding to study for a test I had failed, or even if I should have done this vs. that, BUT any major decision I had made was made for a reason and had an outcome I either liked or learned from.
     For the purposes of this essay, if I were forced to choose a decision or statement to recant, it would be to have been saying yes to EIE. This was one of the biggest decisions of my life. EIE is everything I could have hoped for and far more. There are no words to describe the journey I have come on here. But, as of three days ago I have been having second thoughts. Bluntly, my friend from home, one out of my VERY few close friends, committed suicide. The question echoes through my ears; if I was at home, could I have stopped it? Would have one face happy to see him before he went home, stop that long and painful night? Could of I just hugged him that day and told him everything would be fine, have avoided this disaster? Is it even possible, while I was walking on my normal ‘get some fresh air around the block’ walk, could of I seen him crying before he entered Route 78? Or by now, I could have possibly had my permit, and been driving home before curfew when I saw him, and stop the car, like his first attempt had ended? The question that has been keeping me up for three nights: if I had not been a world away, could I have saved my friend?
      If I didn’t come on EIE, I would truly miss out on a lot, no exceptions. I’m not even saying if I stayed home, I could have saved my friend! What I mean to say is, if I had to change any major decision it would be going on EIE. Even giving me the hopes of saving my friend (which is one in a trillion), I would give up this opportunity to just give him a hug on April 10th, even if I couldn’t save him.
      Would it impact the rest of my life? Of course! I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this essay in Jerusalem, between classes, or even at all. In fact, I might have been making totally different plans that involve nothing of the sort. All, I know is, I’m on EIE and my final goodbye is whispered during the Mourners Kaddish, and my last hug was going to another mourning friend and not the deceased. Time is a tricky thing, filled with unusual quirks like skipping and falling behind hours, as well as the notorious minutes that feel like they stretch beyond days. Time can be frozen in a photo, or captured in a memory, and can even in modern times, be replayed on tape. But, as I learned on EIE, even in the longest minute there only sixty seconds. Now, while thinking about life and this essay, no second will be recounted, so like I always say, make every second count, and make no regrets… just a learned lesson.

השואה שלי - My Shoa

Preface:
Today, I am at my friends Noa's house in Jerusalem. Spending many weekends at her house, and with her family, this is my home base for Israel; Were I feel most comfortable and most well, what else? At home! Today is both the first day of Pesach, as well as the Sun Festival (the day the sun is at the same place as the third day of creation). Most importantly for me, however, is it's the first day I feel truly relaxed and unwinded from my powerful trip in Poland. Poland was beautiful, and the homes were quaint, and the cities were nice, and the land historic, but I cannot mask the uncomfortable feeling I got by simply being there, feeling always dirty. Feeling unclean to touch the ground that many of my people were slaughtered on only 60 years ago. It felt completely wrong to be there. This was my seven day trip in Poland:

29/3/2009

Inbal let me enter the room, counting
me as שלוש. Yoav handed me this journal.
Gali stood by the table with pens.
This will be my story,
Starting tonight.

We are going to Poland, and they want us to write... לקתוב ...קותב. I have a blog, but I guess this will be my real journel, that shares more than my thoughts, feelings and experiences... but also my secrets... סודים... my raw ideas... and my unabridged feelings.

Given the stories of people who lived and died, or made it just simply through the Shoah, I guess this book will tell you my story; with all of its quirks, all of its spelling mistakes, all of my learning.

This was my first entry to my מחברת. I know it will seem stupid for me to explain what I wrote, or repetitive to explain my explanations, but I got this journal a night or two before we left. Our madrachiem wanted us to write down our feelings, which many of us, if not most, have done. I wanted to share my journal entries to portray the way I felt and not just the agenda of my day or the petty things I ate for breakfast or what the walls looked like. I guess in order for me to explain the Poland trip I went on, I figured it would be best to just take you a long.

1/4/09

Tikochin, Poland:
Shtettle life seems nice. Quaint, and beautiful, I would love to grow up here.

Lepochova Forrest, Poland:
He tells the story. I can't help but look up, my classmates look down to the ground, while my eyesfocus at teh tops of trees, their eyes focus at the blood-ridden soil.
I held back my tears. I walked to the three omnious pitsinfront of me, and to my rigth and to my left.I lit my candle and continued onto the other two pits. 14,000 dead; 17 survived. One story, the story of the Shoah, which I cannot tell.

"I wonder how many tears these trees have seen?"

Tikochin was a culturally rich Jewish community. While the majority of people were Jewish, there was still a prominent Christian settlement there too. This explains the town square infront of not any church, but a cathedral. On one fatefully day, in Nazi-controlled Poland, a call for the Jews echoed out in the town square. On the day set for meeting, 1/2 of the Jews in Tikochin showed up. They were forced into vans, and the ones who couldn't fit had to run alongside.. they were brought to Lepochova Forest near by. Their fate was already established here a few weeks before, when the Jews were forced to dig three mass graves. The following day, the other half was rounded up and sent to this forest too. I believe 130 people got away... but Poles turned in 113 of them in to the Nazis. 17 survived to account for the 14,000 others missing. In two days, the 300 year old, flourishing Jewish culture of Tikochin was put to an end.

2/4/09

Majdonek concentration/death camp outside Lublin, Poland:
I wish I could take back my thoughts, alas I cannot. It is beautiful here. Light grassy hills, rolling onto the forests. Soft blue skies blanketing over wooden, old buildings. Reminicant of Autumn, back in New Jersey, only my favorite time of year, i am met with warm sunlight, and a cool breeze.
I sit on the grass, 60 years ago was bitter mud, only 60 years ago.
I see apartments across the street, people living where they could see me. This view wasn't blocked 60 years ago.

They watched me die; 125,000 times.

The changing room, the shower room, the hallway of sorts, the gas chamber.I'm relieved the last room was blocked off with glass. I'm not sure why, but it would feel wrong to step in and then to step out. In fact, it felt wrong to look. Hastily, I left. I glanced into the glass wall revealing the S.S. room where the Zyklon B was released. Before I got a good look into the room I realized what was looking back at me, pressed against the windowsill. Two pairs of orange eyes, with black pupils piercing through my racing heart. Two butterflies trapped on the other side of the window. Two more souls unable to fly away.

I took a few more pictures overlooking these rolling hills, this beautiful sky, the surrounding city of Lublin. I don't want to see them ever again. This place isn't beautiful, this place is not beautiful.

Walking alongside the barbed wire fence, I'm not sure if it's inside, or out of this camp. All I know is I have to go to the bathroom. I don't know if its to pee or probably puke, but my stomach is turning under the weight of these memories and stories here at Majdonek; my stomach and insides are turning.

I just walked out of the crematories. The ovens are much more vile in person. The air was thick, I thought that I was tasting ash. As I left, I saw my peersspread about outside, sleeping, layingdown, and writing. A lot are still spread out, randomly alone or together, I see many of them sleeping. I'm tired. I want to go home. I want to go back to ישראל.

Majdonek was a place I would never want to return to. It looked as if the flick of the switch could turn this place right back up and running full-speed. In fact, it was been said in the past it would logistically take 24 to 72 hours to do so.
The entire camp being quite an emotional or possibly numbing place for some people, I could not be numb there. Yes I was sad, but I was overwhelmed and shocked by my feeling of anger. People live across the street from here? Okay, I understand if you were going to live next to a cemetery or a plaque commemorating people who died, but to take a lovely stroll in the morning and look out your child's window and see a pile of ashes. Literally, a pile meters high and meters wide, the ashes that were preserved are staring back at you, and you're okay to look back at it every morning? I don't understand. What angers me more is the fact you could see it from there 60 years ago as well. The Holocaust wasn't a secret! People just walked out of Lublin and could SEE with their own eyes what was happening! Why didn't they help? Why didn't they say something? Why didn't they put an end to it? Why?

I have so many inarticulable questions, all of which can't be answered.
But just simply why?

4/4/09

Novotel Hotel, Krakow; Room 227:
I'm on my bed, after Shabbat, after Havdalah. Realizing I didn't write yesterday, I came to terms with the fact "I just didn't feel like it." Yesterday, we toured Kazmiericz, and saw the Jewish Quarter and was told of the rich and beautiful Jewish Culture there once upon a time ago. Clearly, I saw the remnants of the B'tei Knesset (Synagogues/Houses of Study), and the tourist restaurants and the real graves of people important in our past. Despite seeing all this lovely stuff, I felt no deep emotion, nothing worth sharing. I did, however, felt if not comfortable, but alright in this Jewish section.
Last night marked the sabbath, but not only that, but Shabbat Ha'gadol (The Big Shabbat aka:before Pesach). This morning, after a quick and busy night preparing, we went to the Temple Synagogue for services. I led it with a staff member and three other EIE students. While we all led together, we also had distinct parts. I was CRAZY nervous, but I managed to spew out my D'var Toarh דבר תורה on Tsav זו. Congratulated on it, and all, I was still shaking after, because I was nervous as well belittled by the beautiful, awing, huge sanctuary I was speaking in, as well as the fact I was talking to 117 of my peers, my counselors, other staff, invited guests, AND the Jewish History teachers. All I have to say is it's over, and I'm still breathing.
As for not needing to, or not feeling the need to write, tomorrow we are visiting Aushwitz and Birkenau. As emotional as Majdonek was, as powerful it presented itself, I am STILL nervous and unsure what to expect.
Eerie, and also astonishing, I don't think anything can compare to the notion of Majdonek, BUT as the story continues, Auschwitz has been the icon for death camps, and tomorrow, I'll be seeing it for myself.. first hand.


5/4/09

Auschwitz- Birkenau Death Camp:
Just a short time ago, I woke up. We left early this morning and on little sleep, made our way to the buses. I just woke up. I looked through the window and I knew where I was. Six million I thought. One and a half which is attributed to right here. I was approaching the gates of Auschwitz II (Birkenau), and I didn't know how to react; I stayed silent.
An introduction, a walk along the train tracks, a view unbearable, we walked around the four gas chamber complexes. Wondering where the bodies went I looked up, wondering where the ashes rested, I looked down. Not to the ground, but to the muddy, mucky ponds alongside the remains of these complexes. I don't know how to think.

For all the names of this place, I'd expect something of beauty to be less. Birkenau means Birch. A tree I had always deemed gorgeous and special to me because of a childhood a story told at camp.

Beautiful Birch,
White as frost.
Surrounded by fields of green,
Are reduced to ash.
With the memories gone up in smoke.

I cannot say I am wrought with emotion. I am not ridden with sadness like in the forest in Lepochova, I am not angry and full of fear like I was at Majdonek. Sitting on a field in Birkenau, I feel complacent. I, all I feel is confusion.

In these last two entires, I could not put it better myself
(... Wow, I realize I make lame jokes. But, I think that's how I have been dealing with this amount of emotion recently.. in a mellow satirical way). But, my point is, I couldn't rephrase what I had previously wrote. I could throw out the statistics, tell the whole story like I did about Tikochin, but I think for these two in specific, there are only questions being raised, and I can identify that what I wrote was simply enough for now.


7/4/09 2:17 AM

Jerusalem, Israel
Although It felt as if yesterday hasn't ended, my Ipod says otherwise. 'The day before yesterday' on the 5th, i ended at Birkenau. We followed up by going to Auschwitz I. It was a museum. It was the first time I think I smiled all week. Not because I was happy, no, not at all. Not because I didn't know the number of lives lost, trust me I did. But I was relieved. It might have been the sight of what the museum spoke about, but it was just a museum. It was the first time on Polish ground where I didn't feel like I was stepping on the bloody ground, while in every sense of the word contradiction, I was in fact probably standing on liters worth.

"Yesterday," Warsaw was the focus. We visited the remaining walls of teh Ghett, and we spoke about all the ways we resisted, and the legacy of the resistance, mainly the fact we were standing there today. It was the first time I felt a sense of, I can't finגthe words: we stood up.
Later, we spoke to Polish students. I felt like it was useless because they weren't responisble, and often felt as horrible about it as we did, minus the fact WE were the hunted Jews. I felt like it was useless and awkward, but at least I learned, life goes on, but not even they forgot.

I'm sitting in my hostel room, waiting for today to truly start. I can not describe the plane ride home. It, itself, was not fun, but I was coming HOME. I was getting out of Poland, blood-ridden Poland, and instead of going to Israel, my homeland, I was going to simply Israel, my home. It's the best feeling in the world, being comfortable and safe. I'm sad on the humongous levels that people who once called their home פולניה Po-lan-yah (Here Gd Rests), got deprived of these feelings of security and comfort so fast. Not being able to reflect for long, being early in the morning, all I feel is relieved. I can rest my feet on the ground and not be disgusted in humankind. I can kiss the ground in fact! I can shout I am home, and I never ever want to go back! I don't want to leave my home again, I never want to feel like that ever again.

Epilouge:
My Poland experience was in fact an experience. I am glad to be back, and I'm happy that that depressing feeling, suppressed version of memory, is off my shoulders for now. I plan on DOING something with what I learned, but for the up coming week, walking from the Galil to the Mediterranean, I hope to keep my mind of these matters for now. I think every one just once, needs to go to Poland, but aside from that there is nothing else I can add.
Hearing stories of the Shoah, I have missed my family a lot. Even though Rachel is on the trip with me, I miss the rest of my family extremely so. Tonight is the first night of Pesach, and I think for the first time ever, it will not be spent with my family. Talking about the exodus from Egypt to the Promised land of Eretz Yisrael, I think it was very appropriate that the end of the Poland trip coincided with the beginning of Passover. Still, with this, the Poland trip and the lack of my family during Pesach made me appreciate what it means to be Jewish (both religiously and nationality) as well as what the extent of family can go to, and how you can never waste a day with them.