"cave"

"Are we going to have coffee?"

"Coffee will be your prize."

Welcome to Bootcamp Kobi. We set off for the hills surrounding Jerusalem with the only Israeli I've met who reminds me of an American boyscout. One can expect him at any moment to pull out either a little-known historical fact about his native country or a camping stove to prepare hot tea or chocolate. He had scheduled the morning like so:

First, we would travel through the caves, to the Springs of Maria.

"Leave behind anything breakable. We will be crawling."

Then we would cook ourselves a shakshuka breakfast on the roof.

"The roof?"

"Yes, you shall see."

As it turned out, the "caves" were more of an ancient sewer system, a 1500-year-old tunnel that opened up at a little fountain on the main road, where some tourists were filling their water bottles (a questionable decision). We hiked ourselves up over the small rivulet and squeezed into a hole that--I swear to you--was maybe a foot and a half squared. I can only imagine what the bystanders were thinking, especially when the last member of our group, who was easily 6'3" tall, disappeared into the darkness.

Broken glass lined the path where our knees were supposed to go (I shed blood for Jerusalem that day) and the "drinking water" ran down a narrow hollow between the bordering stones. Emily and I were forced to scoot our knees and feet along the gutter to avoid the glass.

Our fearless leader headed the stony terrain with a flashlight, but although I was right behind him, I could barely see a thing. Fortunately it was Emily behind me, lending light from her headlamp when I was truly at a loss for how to navigate my path. There was a point when I was wedged between the rocks so that the view from behind was literally just my behind, and our ensuing laughter saved me a couple extra seconds to readjust and drag my legs through.

"I wish I had gotten a picture!"

"Thank god you didn't get a picture."

By the time we were finally able to stand, we had reached the end of the tunnel, which was the bottom of an ancient well. Kobi lit some tea candles so we could see the little cave around us. This was where the Virgin Mary had supposedly stopped to take a drink after John the Baptist told her she was carrying the baby Jesus. The knee-deep pool of water wasn't exactly the spring I had envisioned, but the experience was a total surprise and the crawl was an adventure I don't believe I could ever replicate. We earned that coffee.

One at a time, we climbed up an old rusted ladder--and then we were on a flat roof above the sewer in late morning sunshine. A view of lush hills, bougainvillea, and rustic villas surrounded us. We sat in a circle around the camp stove and bags full of food, and began to prepare a meal for the five of us.

Now, my take on homemade (roofmade?) shakshuka might be a bit unique from a kitchen preparation, but from what I have seen of this Israeli staple, I believe the principles are the same. I'll explain it as a meal for four to simplify things, and I will also make slight adjustments to the rooftop recipe, based on the various shakshukas I've had during my stay in Israel:

Shakshuka
(4 servings)

1 tbsp olive oil
1 white or brown onion, peeled and diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 red or green bell pepper, chopped
6-8 tomatoes, diced into small pieces
za'tar, to taste (outside of Israel, I hear you can find this condiment at Kosher stores)
pinch of cayenne pepper (optional)
4 eggs



Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat and add both the garlic and onion, coating the mixture in oil. Sautee until the onions start to become soft and the garlic is fragrant. Then add the bell pepper. Sautee for about 5-7 minutes, until the bell pepper begins to soften. Add the tomatoes and blend well. Allow the mixture to simmer for another 5-7 minutes, until the juices start to reduce. Then add za'tar to your liking (feel free to taste!), as well as a bit of cayenne, if desired. The concoction will continue to reduce, so be careful to not add too much of either spice. Once blended, crack the eggs evenly over the sauce so that each can be poached on the surface. Cover pan with a lid (we used foil...but that was a matter of impromptu problem-solving) and allow to simmer for about 7 minutes, until the eggs are cooked and the sauce has reduced (took us 15 minutes, because of the foil scavenger hunt). If you like your eggs more on the runny side, reduce the sauce a bit before you cook the eggs so that you can cook the eggs for less time. Also, be sure to keep an eye on the pan--you don't want the sauce to reduce too much, which would burn your delicious Israeli breakfast. 

Each dish should be served with labneh as well as warm, crusty bread or pita for dipping. As far as the bread goes, if you're gluten-free or simply anti-carbs, the shakshuka is yum regardless--but the bread really makes this dish complete. You can hollow out the middle of the end of a loaf and fill it with egg and sauce, or you can spread sauce, labneh, and egg on top of a piece of bread and eat it like toast. Or you can do it my way, and gracelessly scoop all the toppings together on a piece of bread with a few napkins at the ready by your side. However you choose to enjoy shakshuka, don't forget to clean up the pan at the end, with a piece of bread. As Kobi says, "That's the best part."

oops

"You seem nervous. Is this your first time flying?"

Emily's passport is filled with stamps, so this accusation was a bit absurd. Any signs of nervousness were only her reaction to the intensity of the airport security guard. He drilled her with repetitive questions and held her passport behind his back as if she just might not get it back that day.

We hadn't eaten anything and we were running late for an international flight, and then, just as we got to the front of the security line, we were pulled aside for questioning. Airport security was concerned that we weren't leaving with the rest of our Birthright group, as well as by our relation. A straight-haired blonde and a curly brunette claiming to be sisters? Fishy. They focused in on the blonde.

Whispered Hebrew, sideways glances, and then they separated us so they could double-check her answers. When Emily had finally satisfied the guard with her consistency, he gave her an extra sticker to put on her passport. "This one's shady," it seemed to say.

Ever closer to the check-in counter, we laughed about the misfortune.

"Can you imagine what's going to happen when we try to leave Israel again, but after traveling an extra two months through India and Thailand?"

"O god. I'm going to get strip-searched."

We threw our bags onto the X-ray belt, laughing. I stopped laughing at the next obstacle.

"You." The uniform stared me down. Apparently it was my turn for extra inspection. The static group of angsty travelers in the new waiting area looked nearly as frustrated as me, all of us waiting for tediously slow baggage analysis. Forty-five minutes until boarding.

Emily hurried to the check-in counter to see if she could get both our boarding passes printed. Meanwhile, I waited. And waited. Thirty minutes before boarding, I heard a security guard call for my flight and I shouted, "HERE!" like I was snagging the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. We would not miss this flight. We would go to India.

My bag was rushed through the check point and I ran to where Emily stood, leaning on the counter in front of an apathetic woman who pretended she didn't see either of us.

"What's going on?"

"They say we need visas."

Emily and I had bought our tickets to India weeks prior, without any problems. We hadn't read up on the visa situation because, as far as we knew, we didn't need one for our brief amount of travel. Israel didn't require a visa, Thailand didn't. But India--the longest portion of our trip, the place we researched the most, the country I've obsessed over visiting for years--that was the place with the red tape.

At first, we were in disbelief. Then there were tears. But Emily and I finally womaned up and decided we could remedy the situation. We've made some blunders together in the past while traveling...nothing to this degree, but adequately screwed up enough to prepare us for disaster.

We spent the next four hours visiting the Indian embassy, then an intermediary travel agent. We filled out forms, took formal application photos, and handed over our passports to a sympathetic woman who told us, "Anywhere from a couple days to two weeks." Only then did we collapse on the bed of a dingy hostel, where we planted ourselves for the next four nights. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe we were supposed to stay in Israel a little while longer.

This would also be a good time to mention that on the day we were ready to leave for India, I hadn't yet reached the peak of what we would later determine was a bad case of bronchitis. It is just in the last day or so that I've started to get better--and much credit has to be given to my amazing traveling companion for taking my violent coughing in stride. I am so grateful for her calming presence and also that we are traveling together. Going through this madness as a pair brings a bit more humor to the situation. It also makes bronchitis a hell of a lot less miserable.

The plans are a mess, but at least we were given an opportunity to make the most of an unfortunate situation. More time in beautiful Tel Aviv is a far cry from disaster. Our crusty hostel turned out to be a happy oasis, one block away from the gorgeous, soft sandy beach and walking distance from some eclectic restaurants, the movie theatres (go see Looper!), plenty of markets, a post office, and everything else we could need in Limbo.

The past few days slowed us down and gave us a lovely little extension in Israel. A couple days ago, we decided to return to Jerusalem and--thanks to Birthright--we actually have friends up there to visit. A very generous guy who traveled with our group, Kobi, has arranged for us to stay with his girlfriend while we're there. Soon Emily and I will get to experience Shabbat dinner in a traditional, family setting. And, knowing Kobi, I'm sure we will also be experiencing at least one more impromptu hot chocolate session. (Kobi travels with a camping stove and supplies for hot beverages....he is always prepared with hospitality!)

As fun as it has been to explore Tel Aviv, I'm really looking forward to a change of scenery for the next few days....off we go to Jerusalem. The bus awaits.

A tea party from the past. (From left to right: Emily, Amanda, Yael, Kobi, Lewis)

here

Warm wind swirls brown leaves off the ground and carries the laughter and songs of a wedding celebration over Jaffa. The live music is bright and joyful, but there is also a nostalgic quality to its tone, haunting and beautiful. Stray cats leap from stone steps stretched out around us. The city lights across the way contrast with the dark ocean below the hill. This is our first night in Tel Aviv and the city has already swept me off my feet. 

Our tour guide, Yoav, tells us that even though he expects we will have lots of questions throughout the ten days of Taglit-Birthright, we should expect more questions and less answers. "You'll find a way to answer questions later."

***

The first night in Tel Aviv felt like a meditation on what was to come, a moment to reflect on how much I still have to learn about my Jewish roots--and about identity, community, and spirituality in general. My experience of being human is part of an unfathomably larger fabric of history. Perhaps in understanding that history better, I can come to understand my small part better. Israel is so rich with stories of the past, it feels consequential to simply stand on the soil. But then my exploration will also extend beyond Israel and take a turn into complete unfamiliarity in South East Asia. This is a testament to the even greater community of being human that extends beyond myself and my family and my notions of spiritual awareness.

My intention prior to leaving the USA was to find "clarity," to obtain a sense of security in my spiritual and emotional faculties. This seems more like the analytical agenda of my rational mind. The type of clarity I am really seeking isn't about feeling secure and placid, nor about finding answers and making conclusions. Yoav assured us that the more we learn, the more questions we will have. That sounds more like spiritual and self-exploration, doesn't it? Life is messy and expansive. True clarity, then, should light the way down the infinite path of exploration, so as to continue the search.

Before leaving, I put so much weight on this trip, as if it were to be the literal manifestation of my allegorical exploration of life. True, traveling, at its core, is always something like that. A person shakes off all the familiar and sets off into the unknown--that desire to shift scenery must come from a deeper desire to expand. But if I put too much emphasis on searching for clarity or finding answers, I might just miss the point. Much better to be here now.

The beginning of this trip kicked off with my 25th birthday. It feels like starting fresh, like a new phase--and I can't imagine a better place to begin than in Israel. This country is very special. Such a heavy past and so rich a culture, yet the atmosphere is welcoming and light.

We've been here only three days, but my Birthright group generally agrees that time is irrelevant--it might as well have been weeks at this point. So far our stay has been a fantastic blur of hummus, bus rides, political and religious discussions, hot thick air, dust, hookah, and fast bonding. The relationships we are building as a group--superficial as they might be after what is in actuality a very short time--feel surprisingly easy and organic. These are good people. Everyone is so open, they just come as they are.

I'm finding myself more grounded and clear-headed than I've felt in a very long time. I think it has something to do with the welcome familiarity of living out of a backpack and definitely from the laid-back group of people with whom I am lucky enough to travel. I feel free to be myself, passionate and curious and messy as ever. All my heavy expectations about what this trip could be are dissolving into the reality of what it is: I am in a magical place with a little community of beautiful people, waking up every day to wildly different experiences than I have ever had before.

Just yesterday we hiked through the Golan Heights. We ran up rocky paths and found shade from the sun in a cool tree tunnel arching over a stream. Later at Mount Bental, we stood on top of an old bunker and waved to Syria next door. Then last night, Emily and I led a mini drunken yoga session under the stars. Emily learned how to salsa dance and count to ten in Hebrew. Today, our entire group of forty-five sang together in an echoey, ancient citadel in Safed. Emily and I drank fresh squeezed pomegranate juice and ate our third meal of falafels.

And tonight, we are in Jerusalem. It's only day three....I'm in total bliss and blowing my mind.