[I'm not] Homeless

For some strange reason beyond my comprehension, I've become incredibly transient these past few years. My college years were filled with moves (I think I lived in 13 different apartments, not counting the mission, before I graduated) but the past two years I was especially packing-happy. I figured it out the other day, and I moved on average every two months these past two years. 

That's a lot of packing and unpacking!

However, my move to DC started a long stint of "three-suitcase-living," which meant everything had to fit into three suitcases. This made moving much easier.

The first apartment I lived in DC was a small box with two beds, two desks, two closets built into the wall, and a small fridge and a microwave. We had a closet with a shower, toilet, and sink inside (it was actually a bathroom but was smaller than most peoples' closets), and I shared the room with one other girl. There was a communal kitchen on the floor, but it was shared with 20 other people and I tried not to even walk past it. Obviously, my barbaric eating habits reflected that!

True, it wasn't like this box that I lived in at the Jerusalem Center (shared with 4 people and always at least 105 degrees!),

but it was pretty small.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture of my shared box before moving out of it. 

I was thrilled to move to a large house with my own room in Maryland, just outside of DC, for the last month of my time out there. It was beautiful. I still only had three suitcases, and I kept most of my stuff packed for the month, but it was so great to have space of my own. And to get out of that box I had been living in! The first week living there I was so excited I killed all the spiders on the porch, disposed of the "weed jungle" through which I had to wade to get into both the front and back doors, and trimmed the front bush (the one that was so overgrown it blocked the sidewalk) with dull child scissors.

Yep. I'm pretty hard core like that.

The kitchen and the living room were the best part. I had never lived in a house with such a beautiful kitchen before! I mean, just look at all that cupboard space. And two fridges. My pancake mix and tuna fish finally had a place to call home! (And sorry about the bad lighting conditions in the photos. I took these just as I was moving out and it was already dark.)

This next picture was my room. I had already moved everything out, but since I only have three suitcases it looked about the same. Just put black sheets and two pillows on the bed and a suitcase in the corner, and that's pretty much what it looked like! I left my suitcase laying on the floor instead of putting it in the closet so my room wouldn't seem so barren. It was almost like having furniture in there.

The best part of the room? The bed. I didn't have to sleep on the floor! The girls who lived at the house had an extra bed that had been left behind by one of the roommates, and guys, it was awesome. The mattress wasn't the best--there was only one spot on the mattress that the springs wouldn't poke into me--but not sleeping on the floor was awesome.

I love living in houses with stairs. Something about the free exercise makes them very attractive to me!

And here it is in all of its nighttime beauty. Too bad I never got a picture of it during the day--you could have seen the awesome trimming job I did on the front bushes. But this was the best I could get as I was moving out.

Moving to Israel presented, once again, the conundrum of where to live. I didn't want to sign a contract before I got to Israel, because what if I didn't like the place or the roommates? I wanted to see the apartment before I signed anything.

But where to live while I searched for an apartment? I still hadn't reserved my spot in a hostel (I was deathly afraid of being stabbed in the middle of the night--and what to do with my stuff while I'm in class? What if someone wants to steal my broken shoes or old textbooks?) and while I was sitting in the Denver airport on my way to Israel, I received an email about two Mormon girls living in Jerusalem and going to Hebrew U. I emailed them right away to say hello and ask if they knew of any good housing options. And by the time I landed in Houston, one of them had emailed me back and said I was more than welcome to stay with her and sleep on her floor while I looked for an apartment.

Problem solved. I was so relieved. No more fears of being stabbed in the night!

Sleeping on someone else's floor was quite the experience. The girl with whom I stayed actually had an extra foam pad, so I didn't even have to sleep on the tile (no carpet in most houses in Jerusalem!). However, she had a small room, so my foam pad lay partially under the table in her room. Each morning I would wake up laying on the floor under the table. It was very disorienting and didn't help my homesickness for DC any! Every morning was the same: I'd wake up, wonder, "Where am I?" and then realize, "Oh yeah, I'm sleeping on the floor under a table."

But really, it was great. The apartment in which I stayed was graduate housing for the university, and it was within walking distance of my class. The best part, however, was the fact that it was right next to a cemetery: the British Military Cemetery for British soldiers who fought in Palestine in WWI. For those of you who don't know this odd fact about me, I love cemeteries, and it was a joy to be able to walk past this one twice a day!

Thankfully, within a week (and before I overstayed my welcome) I found an apartment--for at least a few weeks! I am currently subletting a girl's apartment in West Jerusalem, and it is great. And guess what? It's just temporary, meaning I will move again in October (but I already have a place lined up--I will be house-sitting for someone in my branch) and in November (to who knows where).

This is my room. The best part of subletting is that the apartment comes pre-decorated! Each morning I wake up to a wall full of people I don't know. It's like a got a new family and new friends overnight. I'm going to have to say, though, that the bed is the worst part (but at least I'm not sleeping on the floor!). It's like a fold-out couch/bed or something, and it is even more uncomfortable than my DC bed. It has three bars running across it under a very thin layer of fabric (which you can kind of see in the picture) and I have yet to find a comfortable sitting or laying position on this bed. Ah, well, who needs comfort when you can wake up to a wall full of pictures each morning? :)

The bathroom opens onto a closed balcony, with space to hang up clothes to dry. The second best part about the apartment (besides the pre-decorated room) is the washer. I was so stoked to find out that I didn't have to hand-wash my clothes!

Oh man, there are just so many great things about this apartment. Like the retro interrogation lamp hanging over the kitchen table.

And the pillow room.

Before I lived here, I never knew that a requirement for any apartment should be a pillow room. But now I see the beauty of having an entire room just for pillows. It's so great.

We don't have a balcony, but next to the pillow room is a glass door that opens with a railing next to it. Ta-dah! The whole living room is turned into a balcony when the door is open!

The view from my apartment is pretty awesome, too. It's not like the view from the Jerusalem Center, but hey, I'll take freedom over beautiful views any day.

This is my apartment building. Isn't it beautiful? And the best part is: I'm not homeless anymore!

You Are Now Entering A War Zone

I feel like a sign with this phrase on it should be posted on the door of my classroom. No, it's nothing like the war zone that currently covers much of the Middle Eastern landscape, but it's pretty bad. [I have to preface this post, however, by saying that my class actually gets along quite well, generally speaking. But 5 hours of Hebrew a day could make anyone go crazy!]

It's only natural, of course, from a group of 20 people who sit together in the same classroom for five hours a day, five days a week, in another language. This group ranges in age from 14 to 30-something, and comprises students from Italy, France, Russia, the US, Mexico, and Arabs from Jerusalem. There are Christians, Jews, and Muslims. And naturally we all have different opinions and are trying to express them in a different language. It's natural, and I think that's why they keep the ulpans (the intensive Hebrew language programs) short.

The biggest war in my class is over airconditioning. For those of you who run at a higher temperature than average, like me, you can see how airconditioning in a hot classroom for five hours would be vital. Seriously, people. I just want to die when the air conditioning is off. One day I walked out crying in the middle of class because it was so hot. I had to go to the bathroom and pour cold water all over my body for 10 minutes to cool off. It was horrible.

But for those of you who like to wear minimal clothing and keep rooms hot, perhaps you will understand the reasoning behind some people in my class wanting the airconditioning off.

I certainly don't.

Anyway, the war goes something like this: the AC is on when we come into class. Sometimes it lasts a whole hour, but usually within the first 30 minutes someone will get up, walk over to the AC unit (unfortunately it is manual), and flip the switch off.

In about 20 minutes, someone will walk over and turn it on.

Since I am usually the one dying (but many people in my class want it on), I am usually the one to turn it on. I also strategically sit right next to the AC so I can keep things under control. (Unfortunately, this also leads to requests from people farther away from the AC for me to turn it off. Seriously, people? Are you really going to ask the person who will die without the AC to turn it off for you?)

Anyway. One day after class I told my teacher, "This has got to stop. It's like a war here."

Actually, I was speaking Hebrew, and I accidentally said family. "This is a big problem. It's like a family."

My teacher: "....? (looking at me quizzically)

Me: "War. I meant war. Family, war, same thing right?"

Anyway. She told me the funniest thing. I am still laughing about it, days later. She told me that maybe I was hot because I sit in the back of the classroom and the AC blows stronger at the front. And I said, "No, it's fine when the AC is on, but when it's off the classroom is equally hot."

And she said, "Well, maybe if you sit by the AC, even after it's off your body will remember that it used to be cool and you won't feel so hot!"

Nice try. But that is perhaps the most useless solution I've ever heard, actually!

Today there was another war, but this time about what it meas to keep kosher and Shabbat. We were reading a text about percentages of Israeli Jews who believe in God, who keep kosher laws, who celebrate Jewish holidays, etc. And for some reason, a few people in my class started arguing about what it meant to keep Shabbat and kosher, and how accurate these statistics were. Cries of "Guys, this is just to help us learn Hebrew, not give us correct statistical figures" were ignored.

I just sat in the corner chuckling because I thought it was so funny.

The worst part, however, was when the 14-year-old brought up the fact that the text was talking about Israelis--but there are Israelis that aren't Jewish (they are Palestinian) and why doesn't the text acknowledge them? (You could feel the tension go up a notch in a class that houses both Israeli Jews and Israeli Arabs.) I quickly stated that this class can't even talk about kosher laws without arguing, so we probably shouldn't get into politics!

We do have some funny misunderstandings, though, that keep people laughing. I believe that open warfare won't happen as long as we can all laugh together!

Like the other day when one of the Arabs in the class was inviting us all to a class party. He said that we would go to a park and eat kabobs. And one of the girls mentioned that she didn't eat meat. "Don't worry!" he said reassuringly. "They have chicken!"

Yeah, we all laughed about that one.

And then today, as we were reading the text that caused so much disagreement, one of the other Arabs thought that the text said "Chinese" instead of "Sinai." In Hebrew only the vowels are different in the two words, but the vowels aren't written. They are both written syny. Anyway, the text said that most Israelis believed that Moses received the Torah in the Sinai, and as we were reading, she said, "Moses received the Torah in China?"

Yep. It's the little things, friends, that make life bearable at this point!

Three Year Anniversary

Three years ago today I entered the MTC. I was so excited and so naive about what lay ahead. I had no idea that a mission could be so exhausting and so stressful and so overwhelming and so wonderful and so heart-wrenching and so tearful and so prayerful and so sacred. I thought I knew. But nothing could have prepared me for the sleepless nights (wait, who am I kidding. Most nights I was asleep before I even got into bed), the desperate prayers, the hundreds of miles of bike riding, the riding in pouring rain and wind and tsunamis, a few motorcycle/bike accidents, mastering Chinese, the utter exhaustion from which I thought I would never recover, but most of all for the all-consuming love that I would feel for the people I would teach and serve.

It was a crazy 18 months. And if you want to read about it, feel free to read my mission letters blog (with pictures occasionally interspersed).

And happy three-year anniversary, me.

Dear Bus 42

Dear Bus 42,

I didn't want to have to break the news to you in such a public fashion, but it's time the world knew. It's over between us. You've disappointed me too many times for me to fall for your tricks again.

When I first heard about you, I thought you were too good to be true. Could there really be a bus that stopped two blocks away from my house and went straight to Hebrew University with only 10 stops in between? I was delighted that my commute would bypass all the downtown traffic and would only take 25 minutes each day! And the best part of all was that I had to share you with so few people. I got my own seat and even my own row most days. None of this crammed-like-cattle-falling-on-other-passengers nonsense like I get on the other busses. Nope. You were special.

I should have been suspicious when I found out that you only run once an hour and the first bus doesn't come until 8:19. I rationalized that I could cut it that close because you were so fast and convenient. But I wasn't happy when you were 20 minutes late the first morning. I waited at the bus stop in the heat for 30 minutes because I didn't want to be late. I finally moved off the bench and stood in the only shade nearby--the shade from the pole of the bus stop sign. However, when you finally came, you were all smiles and I decided that I could be forgiving. Maybe you got caught in traffic. Maybe there was a bad accident. The quick trip to the university made it almost worth the wait, and I was only 10 minutes late for class.

The next day I was ready. I stood in the shade of the bus stop sign and waited and waited. And waited. 45 minutes had passed before I finally had the sense to check and see if you even worked on Fridays. Thank you, free wireless at the bus stop. And guess what? I'm still wondering why you are one of the only busses in the city that doesn't even run on Fridays.

I was patient. I walked to another bus stop and took bus 19 to class. It was crowded, traffic was bad, and I was 45 minutes late for class.

But I was ready on Sunday. I checked the bus schedule ahead of time and yep, sure enough, it said Bus 42 would be running according to schedule. And I trusted you. You had let me down twice, but I was forgiving. I thought that this relationship was really meant to be.

Guess what Sunday found me doing? Waiting in the 4-inch-wide shade of the bus stop sign. And waiting. And waiting. I wasn't the only one you fooled with your tricks, though. Two other guys were waiting with me in the heat. And I was standing in the only shade nearby. And by the time I left, after waiting for 40 minutes, one of the guys left with me and offered to let me share a taxi with him to get to the university on time. I graciously refused, since I obviously don't have qualms with getting to class late and I didn't want to fork over that much for a taxi. He was disappointed, obviously, since that meant he had to pay the whole fare himself, but I was more disappointed in you, Bus 42. This was the last straw.

I've moved on to other things after putting up with your tricks for too long. Although Bus 19 didn't initially appear as attractive as you, it's a lot more reliable. It starts running at 6:30 in the morning, it comes every 10-15 minutes, and guess what? The bus stop for Bus 19 is in the shade. It's all in the shade.

So, dear Bus 42, I've learned my lesson. Thanks for teaching me about broken promises and bitter end to relationships. You can be late for others, but I'm sticking with Bus 19 now, even though it takes sometimes twice as long and I do kind of feel like cattle when I ride it with all those other passengers.

But your twin brother, Bus 42 that runs from the university to my home, and I are still going strong. He's a lot more reliable than you and gets me home every night.

Your loss, Bus 42.

London

So I went to London. It went something like this: I could either layover in Turkey and arrive at 2:30 am on Shabbat or layover in Russia and arrive at 4:30 am on Shabbat...or I could layover in London and arrive at 5:30 am on Thursday.

Given Israel's lack of transportation on Shabbat, in addition to the difficulty in checking into a hotel or hostel, choosing London wasn't a hard choice. Turkey, Russia...I'll visit you guys later.

I'd never been to Europe, unless you could the 1-hour layover in Vienna 4 years ago on my way to Jerusalem. Most people wouldn't count that, but hey, they stamped my passport. It was the first stamp of many in my now almost-full passport.

So I definitely count it. Just like I count my 3-hour layover in Japan on my way to Taiwan as visiting Japan.

Anyway. This time the layover was 11 hours, so I left the airport and went out to explore the city.

For those of you who want to do this later: there is a luggage drop at the airport after you get out of passport control. Since my bags were checked through to Israel, I just had my carryon and my backpack, so I checked my carryon at the luggage drop. It cost 8 pounds for up to 24 hours, and I don't think there's a weight or size limit (although it has to fit on the xray machine). They take your luggage and give you a tag, and then you pay when you get back.

I had a couple of friends that lived in London and, armed with their suggestions and a map of the bus and subway routes of the city (and a nice tourist book and map from the airport terminal, provided free from some cell phone company or something), I set off to explore London.

I took the Heathrow Connect train to Paddington

and then I took a double-decker bus to St. Paul's Cathedral. 

I was surprised (even though I had heard that there was a pretty big Arab population in London) to see a whole section of town in Arabic. It was like Chinatown, except it was Arabtown.

And now, friends, I want you to pretend like you are on a double-decker bus in the middle of downtown London, looking out the window. And this is what you'd see:

I love the streets and the buildings. They have such character.

This one's just for you, Kaitlyn. I was relieved to see that Texas has their own embassy in London.

Wasn't that a fun bus tour of London? My coworker Breta suggested that I take one of the public busses that drives past most of the touristy spots so I can see them all and then ride it back and get on and off when I want. You have to pay each time you get back on the bus, but it's only about 2 pounds instead of the 40 pounds that a "hop on hop off" tour bust costs. And for those that want to know, busses 15 and 23 from Paddington Station drive past most of the major tourist spots along the bus routes.

At St. Patrick's cathedral, however, I got off the bus and started walking. My route looked something like this: purple = train from the airport, pink = bus, blue = walking, and yellow = subway.

St. Paul's cathedral is quite beautiful, but quite expensive. If you aren't going to a worship service, it costs 16 pounds to get in!!

Of course I had to get the iconic phone booth picture

For some reason this sign made me laugh. A lot.

The I walked over the bridge (Millenium Bridge, I think) and had some great views of the historical Tower Bridge.

Doesn't this picture just look it should be in sepia?

I thought so. :)

This is looking back over Millenium Bridge at St. Paul's Cathedral.

I love colored doors. Aren't they cute?

Since this was a "see everything and spend no money" tour of London, I just walked past everything. Above is Globe Theater, which was near and dear to the Shakespearean part of my heart. Hamlet, I thought about you when I walked past this thing.

St. Paul's again and Millenium Bridge.

Then I walked along the Thames River. There is a beautiful little river path with cute shops, an awesome graffiti skate park, and some weird carnival thing next to the London Eye.

I've become really intrigued by graffiti the past little while. This was a random skate park in the middle of the shops and the river walk.

Hello, London!

After crossing the Thames again I walked past Parliament and Big Ben and then meandered over to Westminster Abbey to attend evensong. It is also expensive to get into Westminster Abbey but it is free to go in to worship services. Unfortunately for me Wednesday night is the only night they don't have evensong. They have a spoken service instead. And as sad as I was to not get to hear the cathedral choir at Westminster, there was no way I was going to pass up an opportunity to get inside for free, especially since I got there at 5, right in time for the service. So I went to a 30 minute sermon at Westminster.

After Westminster I walked through some of the parks in London: St. James Park and Green Park, with a quick stop by Buckingham Palace, and then through Hyde Park to get to the subway.

Hello, Buckingham Palace!

There were pigeons everywhere. They just kind of sat there until you walked through the middle of them, and then they awkwardly waddled out of the way. If I had bread with me they probably all would have followed me anywhere. I kind of felt like I was on Mary Poppins.

 

Buckingham Palace

 

At this point I had been awake about 30 hours. I got a little sleep on the plane (in my excellent exit-row window seat!) but I had kept my contacts in so I couldn't see very straight. I didn't realize it until I looked at all of my pictures and they were all crooked! I couldn't take a straight one for the life of me! I fixed most of them, but I left this one in to give all of you a laugh...

A gate into Hyde Park

 

I took the subway back to Paddington station. I could have walked but I wanted to try out the subway system in London. But ouch! It cost like 5 dollars to ride the subway! I like the DC metro more and more every day.

Umm, yeah. I fell in love with this subway station. Isn't it charming?

 The consensus: London was great. Awesome, really. I think I could get used to this layover in cool cities thing. And the best part? The layover in London was the icing on the cake for my incredibly messed up sleep schedule, and I didn't have jet lag. At all. It's a miracle that I wholly attribute to London. Thanks, London.