Home Sweet Home

"It's been a long time coming, but I know a chage is gonna come, oh yes it will" - Sam Cooke lyrics

It has been bittersweet to be home, in part because it reminds me how rarely I get to be here and how soon I am leaving again. In general terms, I have been reading (Camus, because I can't help myself and Walzer's "Just and Unjust Wars"). I have been running and crossfitting; I have to say it is amazing to feel one's body wake up, one's muscles tense up and physically remember old exercises...I've been too sore to sit or stretch my arms out fully, but it is a good feeling. Other than this, I am working on my projects, tanning (a lot), studying for the GRE and figuring out my upcoming Grad School applications, seeing old friends, and restoring my own faith and optimism. Interestingly enough, to do so I have gone back to my old outlet: art. I've been drawing, painting, and in these simple expressions I find that my mind stops spinning and I feel serene and calm, for once. In terms of random things, I am taking a Krav Maga class (image: me and hand-eye coordination = hilarity), catching up on emails, helping out with some blood drives, cooking, and making obscene quantities of homemade blueberry preserves (it is stress-relieving).

Funny: I've become a bit of an old lady since I go to bed by 10:30 and wake up sometime between 6 and 7am, which is unheard of for me and which caused my dad to stare at me in awkward silences of disbelief the first few mornings I joined him for breakfast.

In some good news, I have accepted a position as Strategic Planner for Raices de Esperanza, a non-profit, non-partisan group focused on empowering Cuban youth on and off the island. The organization is one I am proud to be working for, especially because, with no paid staff positions, everyone who works for it does so on an extracurricular volunteer basis; as a result, the people I will be lucky enough to work with are extremely committed to this cause. It is a young and incredible organization, about which you will be sure to hear more from me over the imminent months! :)

Funnily enough, here is my boss on CNN yesterday:
http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/world/2009/08/24/nr.is.castro.relevant.cnn?iref=videosearch

In any case, here I am, actually liking Miami a lot more this trip than I have in all the years I've lived here. Hey, I guess there is a reason why preconceptions are silly!! I should have some fun stories after this weekend but until then, this is really all that is going on.

Israel - Day 8

“And here is what I know now…goes like this, my salvation lies in your love, my salvation lies in your love” – Orange Sky (the OC Mix 1)

We woke up at 4:15am, ate some pound cake in a hurry, and walked to Masada. The face of the rock – completely devoid of any softening vegetation – rose up swiftly before us as we began the ascent. Masada, the desert fortress built by Herod the Great was the cite of the last great battle between the Jewish rebels and the Romans in the 70s CE. I was the 5th person up from our group and the first girl, which, modesty aside, made me (and our hyper intense tour guide) pretty proud.

After touring the top, we made our way down to breakfast at the hostel, before heading out to the Ein Gedi nature reserve, where we (gasp of happiness!!) swam in a waterfall!! Especially because it had been so hot in Israel, this was beyond refreshing! After returning to the hostel and getting ourselves cleaned up and packed up, we drove to Tel-Aviv. On the drive, we stopped at a rest stop, where one Mr. James Kimmey and I shocked the rest of the bus by buying chips and beer (of course, James bought some crappy, light beer and I went for a Guinness, as usual, thereby gaining respect points from our hilarious bus driver)! Once in Tel-Aviv we had a couple of hours to spend on the boardwalk, resting, eating, enjoying our last day together as twilight set in. And then, sadly, we made our way to the airport. The goodbyes to Ohad, Yisrael, and Avi were sad – I for one, being my usual sentimental self, had become legitimately close with them…I felt like I was leaving really good old friends.

It’s a good thing I will be back here in several months though! I am looking forward to spending more time in actual Tel-Aviv (especially since I have decided to move here in a couple of years), to doing some intense hiking, to seeing Avi and Ohad again, and to seeing Israel when it is not in the middle of its dry season (I want to see her hills covered with green!). In the end, we boarded our airplane at 1am. As we did so, I looked down at a ring I had personalized and ordered in a little shop in Jerusalem…in the sterling silver is inscribed, in Hebrew, “Ahava,” meaning “love.” I couldn’t help but smile even as I was leaving, for I had found a place that touched me greatly and differently than any of my other travels, a place that had renewed me in many ways, a place that challenged and welcomed me at the same time; and that, my friends, that is love.

On that note, I should say that I am separating from newfound friends whose friendship I hope to keep for years to come. (Some of us are already making plans for a reunion). In all honestly, I must also admit that even though I have apparently rubbed off on them with funny hand gestures and Nataliaisms (it’s been pretty funny actually), the people on this trip have contributed something much greater to me, for they have injected me with a renewed sense of serenity and a belief that the surprises, the luck, the pure joy in life is always greater than the knocks, hectic stresses, and pains and disappointments we may experience! I consider myself thankful and blessed to have crossed paths with some of the people on this trip.

And so, as they say during Passover Seder, "Next year, in Jerusalem…"

Israel - Day 7

“Aint no one gonna break my stride, aint no one that can hold me down, oh no, I’ve got to keep on moving” – Matisyahu lyrics (originally from Ace of Base?)

The theme of day was ‘The Judean Wilderness,” enough said. In the morning we began our descent into the desert to the south. On the way, we stopped in Tiberius to volunteer with Christians who had emigrated from Lebanon; for almost twenty years they had formed the South Lebanese Army and fought on Israel’s side, but after Israel pulled out in 2000, they were harassed, persecuted, and forced to flee from their homeland. As a result, they are in Israel. We did some crafts with the kids, played soccer, learned traditional Lebanese dancing (!!), and ate amazing carbohydrate concoctions. They were extremely thankful to have us there and to have the support of the larger international Christian community; it was incredibly touching to see their response to such a small gesture on our part, which once more served as a reminder of the kind of positive effect our smallest actions can have!

After this, we drove to the Dead Sea, where we swam (or rather, floated), covered ourselves in mud, and generally relaxed for the rest of the day! In the late afternoon, we went into the pool at our hotel room, where we stayed for (no joke) several hours. On a tangent: at one point we chose to entertain ourselves with chicken fights, and I must say that I won all of the girl matches!!

In the evening we had a Shabbat dinner. The women lit the candles and Avi and Ohad sang the traditional songs…in the middle of our hostel we had a truly heartfelt dinner. Then we all went to bed early, in preparing for the marathon day that our last day in Israel was sure to be!

Israel - Day 6

"All my live I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
for the people to say
that we dont wanna fight no more
they'll be no more wars
and our children will play" – Matisyahu lyrics

This morning we went to the border with Lebanon, where we were given a presentation by an IDF Commander. Having been to the Syrian border, it was enthralling to realize the complexities of Israel’s relationships with its various neighbors; for examples, since the 2006 war, the IDF focus mostly on civilian protection at the Lebanese border, seeing to maintain the status quo in the area. Having seen both these borders and stood at the edge of Gaza, one of the things that most amazed me was how small and unprotected the borders looked. We were well aware that they were nothing if not well-protected, but from our vantage point they looked like mere fences…how is that really meant to keep terrorists out, especially from Syria? On an interesting tangent: the IDF uses Arab Bedouins to patrol the borders…by simply looking at the ground, these people can tell if someone has crossed the path and then give you their gender, weight, height, etc. Incredible (especially because they are Arabs, although Israeli citizens)!

After the border, we went to the national park of Tel Dan for a walk through the beautiful natural preserve (again, I had a huge urge to go hiking here when I return in a couple of months!). Interestingly, in the middle of this preserve one can also find one of the oldest stone arches in the world! After Tel Dan, we went kayaking down one of the tributaries of the Jordan River!! Ralph and I paired off in our own kayak and really enjoyed the 30 minutes of making our way down the river, stopping at strategic bends in the river to splash the other members of our group. At one point, a group of Orthodox Jews who DID NOT KNOW US, grabbed our kayak and held us hostage while they splashed us with their paddles – what??? On the drive back, exhausted, cooled down, and content, Ralph and I listened to Matisyahu together (he had a headphone splitter!) as had been our custom throughout this trip!

In the evening, several of us got quite the treat: a Shlomo Artzi concert!! He is an incredibly well-known singer/songwriter who has been performing in Israel for several decades. The concert was outdoors on an absolutely perfect night, and the grounds were filled with people of all generations, entire families, dozens of IDF soldiers dancing in their uniforms. The air was buzzing with (no joke) good, clean fun! Interestingly enough, Israeli President Shimon Peres spoke (LIVE! IN PERSON!) at the beginning of the concert! Although we could not understand a word he was saying, Rach, Brady, Scott, Hunter, Ohad, and I danced the night away! I also feel obliged to point out that Dr. Brog knew all the words to every song! What a wonderful way to wind down and laugh on a clear Israeli night. Perfection.

Israel - Day 5 (L'chaim!!)

“I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced
I told you to be kind” – Bon Iver lyrics

The first half of the day was spent “walking in the footsteps of Jesus’ Ministry” in Galilee, visiting the site that symbolizes the Sermon on the Mount, the place that symbolizes the miracle of feeding the 5,000, etc. We dipped our feet in the Sea of Galilee as well - so refreshing!

After this, we traveled to the Golan Heights and immersed ourselves in the political debate over the area. In part, we visited the ancient town of Gamla, where one of the epic battle-sites of the Roman suppression of the Great Revolt. The Golan is a place of incredible hiking and I was pretty sad to be rushed through it all; however, when I return in several months, I have arranged with Avi and Ohad to go on a solid hike with them…the weather will be much cooler then, so it will at least be bearable to be outside!

Having learned about the Great Revolt, we traveled to the Israeli-Syrian border to learn about the strategic importance of this area to the state of Israel. Lastly, we headed to the Golan winery for a wine tasting!! The Israeli really have made the dessert bloom, growing twenty-two different kinds of grapes in an area with incredibly different topography, weather, and elevation! The wine tasting provided a much-needed break from the heat and sun of the day and it solidified (at least for me) the economic successes that the Israelis have reached in this region. The drive back to the hostel took a while, so Hunter and I sat on the bus and listened to Bon Iver’s calming music and felt incredibly content. I felt simultaneously at peace and inspired…after a summer of hectic travel, I had a moment of calm in which I reminded that whatever mistakes we make and whatever wrongs are done to us, there is always more good than bad in life.

At night, we met with some Israeli soldiers. The gathering was actually somewhat frustrating for me because we were not allowed to ask them “political” questions since they were in uniform…as a result, the quality of the questions being asked deteriorated to “what are your hobbies?” and “what do you think about women being in the army?” On a tangent on that last note, Israel recently created a new infantry brigade of women that fights alongside men on the ground, instead of being in Intelligence, etc. Pretty damn cool!! In any case, despite the frustrating caliber of the questions, after the Q&A was over, we all spent some time underneath the stars on our usual blankets with hookah and wine (from the Golan!!). This opportunity was one of my favorite moments of the entire trip, as we got to freely interact with locals!

Israel - Day 4

"Strip away the layers and reveal your soul
Give yourself up and then you become whole" - Matisyahu lyrics

Today was an absolutely beautiful experience!! We said our goodbyes to Jerusalem and drove up along the Coastal Road to the ancient city of Ceasarea Maritima. No surprise here, it was also built by Herod the Great, but the most important aspect is that it was literally an invention of genius at the time of its creation! It was the first ever-artificial harbor!! This may not sound too impressive, but imagine literally singing limestone into the ocean and then building an entire harbor and port on top. Thanks to my obsession with the HBO show “Rome,” I knew some of the history surrounding Herod’s association with Marc Anthony and, as a result, his wish to build a city in honor of Octavius (later known as Augustus) to gain the Cesar’s graces…it was nothing short of awe-inspiring to be walking on such a piece of history! Fun fact: Herod brought the Olympics to Ceasarea and created 2nd and 3rd places for the first time!

After a morning in the hot Israeli sun at Caesarea, we made our way to Nazareth and had a finger-licking-good lunch of falafel and hummus (no surprise there!). A nice vendor also gave us some baklava for free! For being the place where Jesus spent his childhood, it is shocking to see that Nazareth population currently consists almost exclusively of Arabs… it is somewhat alarming in light of the billboards we saw there (one of them is pictured in my photos for this post). This particular sign was placed directly in front of the Basilica of the Annunciation, the largest church in the Middle East. Ridiculous, absolutely inexcusable. There is a really interesting story associated with the sign (and the mosque on which it is posted), so if you’re interested, ask me!

In the evening, we settled into our hostel and had a long advocacy-themed discussion with Dr. David Brog, sitting out under the stars. Afterwards, as would be our custom for the remaining nights we spent in Israel, we took our some hookahs, bought some Israeli beers, brought out some blankets from our rooms, and spent the evening under nightfall’s cooler breeze.

Israel - Day 3

"Out of darkness comes light, a twilight unto the heights
Crown heights burnin' up all through the twilight" - Matisyahu lyrics

Today we visited the Mount of Olives and walked on the path known as Via Dolorosa, which essentially is supposed to mark the route Jesus took carrying the cross to the crucifixion. I must say that, as a lover of contradictions, I found it particularly striking that most of the way snakes around the Arab quarter; the juxtaposition of religious pilgrims and everyday Arab merchants was arresting. On the way there we had visited the garden of Gethsemane (where Jesus was betrayed by Judas and arrested); seeing as how I am somewhat skeptical of religious cites that claim to mark some biblical story, I must admit that I really enjoyed being in the garden from an entirely literary perspective: Boris Pasternak has a beautiful poem that bears the name of the garden as its title and it is one of my favorite pieces of poetry in any language (the original is in Russian).

On the way to the first “station” of the Via Dolorosa we also stopped at St. Anne’s, a church dedicated to Mary’s mother. This church is renowned for having incredible acoustics so we asked permission to use them…we marched in quietly, took our seats, and began singing “Amazing Grace”….it was incredible! Holy acoustics!!! There is no way to really convey this, so I am posting a video taken by Hunter.

We then followed the Via Dolorosa until we ended at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which encompasses both Golgotha (where Jesus was crucified) and the area of the Resurrection. The church had a very marked Orthodox feel, which I found very comfortable, but which the Protestants in our group found new and somewhat disconcerting.

Overall, today had an incredible religious feel and very little political/archeological discussion took place.

On a tangent, let me introduce Ohad. He is our 22 year-old security guard and medic! He recently finished his service in the Israeli Defense Forces, where he worked in Counter-terrorism in Gaza (of all assignments). Having Ohad has been incredible, not only because we all seem to have adopted him as one of our own with great ease, but because he is opinionated and informed and can provide a perspective from a real Israeli; its an invaluable resource, especially for those among us who have never met someone from Israel before. Ohad is currently working as a security guard before beginning the application process for Medical School, and although he talks freely about his experiences in Gaza and the IDF, one can tell that they have scared him. As he says, “I was the medic, so you can imagine there are plenty of stories I don’t tell you.” How trite everything we say or do on this trip suddenly becomes if you forget that there are eighteen year-olds pulling shrapnel out of their friends in parts of this tiny speck of a country, no? Ohad keeps us grounded, he keeps us from forgetting what we are actually here to change.

Tonight we went out to celebrate Ohad's birthday in Jerusalem. We sat around a big table and talked and sang for a good portion of the night, even though we were all exhausted from a day of walking. Several of us did shots of Arak for his birthday, which is an aniseed liquor that has an incredibly high alcohol content (ours was at about 70%, but it can go up to 90%). Needless to say, my body was not too happy with me the next morning.

Israel - Day 2

“That’s when I miss you, you who are my home” – "Orange Sky" lyrics

We began our second day in the land of Israel by visiting Yad Vashem, Israel’s National Holocaust Memorial. As we had just come from Poland, we did not go into the actual museum, but rather spent our time walking around the extensive gardens. Among other things, we saw all the trees marked with plaques, one for each Righteous Gentile (there are to this day about 22,000 documented ones). The name of Yad Vashem comes from Isaiah 56 in the Bible, where we read the phrase, “I will give them a monument and a name. I will give them a permanent name that will not be forgotten.” I won’t dwell on this other than to say that, despite the oppressive heat, the walk was really nice and we got to see the many representations that the Israeli people – and the Jews in general – give to the Holocaust and their rebirth.

One of the most amazing parts of the day was walking for 30 minutes through Hezekiah's tunnel, which was used to fetch water as far back as 700 BCE!! I’m pretty certain that it is the kind of experience that, in its retelling, looses a lot of its coolness, so try to picture what wading through the water of a 2,700 year old conduit built by a Judean king would feel like in terms of the geeky, historical value…. (!!!) After this, we finished our time in the City of David and walked through some incredible current excavations.

After this, we ventured into the Old City and explored the Temple Mount (or rather, the part of the mount that we are allowed on). On an interesting note, King Solomon (son of David), who was supposed to have built the Temple on the mount has never been mentioned in an archeological evidence; thus, as far as science is concerned, it is entirely unclear if the man ever existed! Personally, I really enjoyed walking around the Temple Mount because, historically, it is a place of layers and overlaps (First Temple period, Second Temple period, Crusader period, Byzantine period, etc) that spans and incredible amount of time…it might be easy to overlook that the piles of stones one side-steps were carved thousands of years ago and then moved, for political reasons, at some other point in history. The dichotomies and contradictions that exist in this part of the Jerusalem really struck a cord with me, in part because I am geeky and silly I guess.

After dinner, when it was already dark out, we returned to the Mount to visit the Western Wall. Once there, the men and women among us shuffled to their respective (and separate) zones. I walked in and edged past bunches of grouped chairs and reading, praying women, some of them spaying, some of them chanting, some of them silently sitting with head bowed. I don’t think I have ever been in quite as public a place of prayer and I have to admit I was slightly overwhelmed, especially when, by the wall, some women were crying. I hovered near the wall and closed by eye. Suddenly, I felt a skirt brushed past me and found, upon opening my eyes, that a space by the wall had been freed in front of me. Thus, I stood at the wall for fifteen minutes, eyes shut close, praying in a way that was somehow different from other times (I won’t go into this because a blog is not entirely the best place for such an intimate discussion, but just trust me that it was a different experience). I must interject and say that some of this was not a matter of personal faith, it was an acute feeling of shared humanity: here we all were, sisters, mothers, daughters – women, all of us, equals – caught in a shared second of time, frozen with uplifted thoughts, with pleads and prayers on a beautiful summer evening.

In the Talmud there is a passage that posits (as a metaphor, not a metaphysical theory) that every person has two souls – one that always accompanies them and one that resides permanently in Jerusalem – and that when people feel “whole” in Jerusalem it is because their two souls are joined. I have to say, myth and cliché aside, that I felt entirely at peace and content in Jerusalem. I could not have chosen a better door through which to enter this magnificent land.

Israel - Day 1

“Jerusalem, if I forget you, let my right hand forget what it’s supposed to do” – Matisyahu lyrics

Our first day in Israel was somewhat unreal. First, it should be noted that we flew into Tel-Aviv at 5am and did not check into our hostel in Jerusalem (yes, completely different city) until the afternoon; in other words, we were straight to touring from the airplane. It is also important to keep in mind that I still had a full fever while this was going on, but, as usual, ascribed to the “mind over matter” axiom that leads me to (often erroneously) believe that I can kick my own sicknesses into remission, and kept pushing along.

We got off the airplane in an excited frenzy despite the dire lack of sleep and the less than desirable conditions provided by Lot airlines…those two elements quickly became worth it (personal bias here) when we: (a) happened upon the Israeli National Soccer Team at the airport and (b) knelt down in mass to kiss the ground. It was a muggy, hot, dark morning but we were here, we were in Israel!!

Our sojourn began with a visit to Kibbutz Yad Mordechai, which was named after the 26 year-old commander of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. It was oddly anachronistic to be in a place that was named after someone whose bunker we had stood in front of just a few short days earlier. I must say that there could be no more appropriate memorial to Mordechai Analewicz than such a living and continuing place, even more so since this small kibbutz held back overwhelming Egyptian forces for six whole days in 1948, giving the new Israeli army enough time to organize and ultimately defend Tel-Aviv further up the coast. How apropos that a place of such courage should follow in the figurative footsteps of an equally courageous man. After being introduced to the history of the kibbutz, etc, we had breakfast in their kitchen. This was my first taste of hummus and, I have to say, I ate it with incredible and unparalleled contentment! Even the random hummus in a dining hall somewhere in Israel is better than most hummus I have had across the Atlantic. (Sigh) I was so happy! Everyone on the trip knew to expect a minor epileptic attack when I encountered my first taste of hummus, so it was quite amusing for everybody!

After this, we drove to Sderot, an Israeli town that borders Gaza and that is known for suffering almost constant fire rocket fire for seven straight years. We stood upon a hill and looked out into Gaza for the first time, and I must admit it was strange to imagine that in a land that topographically looks exactly the same and that is crowded into such a small space with its neighbors, such conflict could rage so furiously for years. The people in Sderot had to adjust to the situation by building bomb shelters in every conceivable public area – schoolyards, streets, parking lots. If a siren sounds, you have 15 seconds to make it to a secure bomb shelter. I was tired and feverish but I could not avoid being entirely sobered up by standing in the physical location I have read about in so many accounts of the Gaza conflict.

From here we went on to Jerusalem. Our first stop was a panoramic view of the city. Beautiful! Our second stop was the Israel Museum, where we saw an incredible reconstructed model of what the city must have looked like during the Second Temple Period and (wait for it) got to see, in person, the Dead Sea Scrolls. Yes people, only a glass place separated me from these age-old documents (earlier known source of Biblical documents before 100 BCE); it was absolutely surreal!!

Let me briefly interject to say that we then went for lunch in the Arab quarter. First of all, the experience of walking through those streets alone was awesome in my opinion, because they are bustling with vendors, brimming with colors and smells and just, well, ordinary life in most ways. The lunch was at a restaurant that Avi recommended to us and entailed, among other things, hummus and falafel. Despite the loss of appetite that I usually experience when I am ill, I literally ate my weight in falafel while we sat there – it was so incredible!

At this point, we finally checked-into our hostel and had a few hours of much-needed nap and shower time! In the evening, after much-needed naps, showers, and dinners, we walked through the governmental campus (Knesset, Supreme Court) and had some lounge time at Ben Yehuda St, which was bustling with nighttime activity, wonderful life music, and people milling in and out of stores. A couple of us had bagels which, I must admit, were quite possibly The. Best. Bagels. I. Have. Ever. Eaten. So far, the food in Israel was treating me quite well which, as a Cuban woman, I very much appreciated.

During the day we talked about the Israeli banking system, their form of government, some economic aspects, etc...it just peaked my interest to learn more about all these subjects so I essentially walked away with a list of things to research!

I have to say that the feeling of this day was uplifting beyond my expectations. From seeing the work being done at the Kibbutz to the observations I could make from my window on the break-of-day drive from the airport, to the mere feeling I had overlooking Jerusalem under the mid-day summer sun…I couldn’t help but notice that we had come from a place of destruction and death to a place of fulfillment and rebirth. Coming from Auschwitz to Jerusalem can do nothing if not take one’s breath away with the stark contrast of its very core.

Last Day in Poland

“But love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah” – Rufus Wainwright lyrics

The evening we came back to Warsaw was uneventful except for the fact that I, once again, went to the sauna! Really, I encourage anyone and everyone to go cleanse themselves in those amazing places!

Our last day in Poland entailed a visit to Treblinka, yet another one of the six camps in Poland. Unlike the other two we visited, Treblinka was completely dismantled and destroyed by the Nazis, so there are, quite literally, no remains. The memorial is nestled in a forest and it is easy to let your mind stray to the surrounding nature, the footpaths, the occasional flowers….there is no material truths directly confronting your conscience. And yet, it is precisely here where it should be most difficult to walk away with any sense of lingering hope or renewal because, out of the 800,000 people who were sent here, less than 100 survived. As a result, at least for me, there was a silence there that was different from that of Auschwitz or Majdanek, as if in the air hung the false echoes of the voiceless laments of thousands of lost souls.

I was asked to put together and host our remembrance ceremony at Treblinka. I stood in front of a memorial to commemorate the mass graves where the bodies were burnt; behind me, an Israeli flag held up by two of our students billowed in the wind. It was a sunny, warm, breezy afternoon as we had a moment of silent prayer, sang some songs, listened to some readings, etc, but I could not help feeling an acute disparity between whatever our actions were meant to mark/honor/redeem now and the absurd atrocities that actually occurred on this field. As honored as I have been to be asked to organize and host the ceremonies on every occasion, and as appreciative as I was of all the positive comments about them, I have to admit that this one was difficult for me to do. It seemed trite and senseless in some fundamental way that we, despite our best intentions, could not repair.

We returned from Treblinka to Warsaw to spend the afternoon as we wished (yes, our first taste of real free time!!) and then, in the late evening, say our sad goodbyes to Irving and some of the staff who was staying behind, and head to the airport. Off to Israel we went! I should mention that I had a full-blown fever at this point, so the prospect of a red-eye flight seemed particularly distressing!!

A10491

As a preface I will say that this post (even more so than my other posts from Poland) will be somewhat incoherent….this day has been an experience beyond measurement, beyond words, beyond (at this point) my full comprehension.

We began the day by visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau. For those who do not know, there were three camps at Auschwitz, but is mostly known for two of them: Birkenau was an extermination camp and Auschwitz I was a concentration/work camp. Majdanek pales in comparison to Birkenau (Majdanek had 4 ovens in its single crematorium; Birkenau had a total of 45), since the sheer scale of the murders that occurred on these grounds iss overwhelming and unbearable…I couldn’t even digest the abstract numbers (4,000 bodies could be killed, burnt, and disposed of in twenty-four hours). The efficient industrialization of mass murder and destruction…well, was…and remains, beyond anything I can describe at this moment. It might be sensitivity or weakness on my part to be so affected by these places, but I cannot let them go.

I walked around the barracks, the grounds, the extended train tracks, the memorial. We were there early in the morning so thankfully the camp was silent, as it seems is only proper in a place of such human tragedy. I do not mean to sound repetitive or maudlin here, but I can honestly say that I can’t describe much more of what happened during the visit, because even my journal writings are difficult to piece together. On a random tangent, as you look around the grounds now, you forget one key difference: back then, in 1942, there was no grass. Prisoners walked and toiled in snow or mud and somewhere in that monochromatic landscape, everything was lost to them…there were no flowers peeking from under manicured grass, no trees to serve as background or distraction. The aesthetic beauty and element of familiarity provided for the tourist by the grass is entirely fictional.

After Birkenau we went to Auschwitz I for an organized tour. Irving Roth (I mentioned him in earlier posts; he is the survivor traveling with us) assisted in taking us around our tour which, again (I apologize), an experience I can barely describe. Irving came to Auschwitz when he was 14 years-old, from Hungary. His parents were working in Budapest and were spared as a result, but he arrived with his grandfather, grandmother, aunt, brother, and ten-year old cousin. Only he and his brother survived the first ten minutes, as the selection process sent every other member of his family to the gas chambers immediately upon arrival. Irving talks about having his entire body shaved, about that blue number being tattooed on his arm, about the latrines, the infections and diseases, the food rations as if it were somehow rational…he recognizes the absurdity of it all, but it was still, after all, a reality for him. For the rest of us, it has a far-away tale of absurd atrocities. Now, having had the honor of walking by Irving’s side, I can say (if nothing else at this point), that I will never forget the faded blue number on his forearm: A10491. In the end, he shocked all of us with the vibrancy of his memories and with the joy in his voice, even now. When we were taking a group photo at the end of the day, someone asked if we should smile…Irving, without hesitation, laughed and said, “Of course we should smile! We are all here and alive!”

In between these two camps – at the end of our visit to Birkenau – we gathered around the memorial for our group’s remembrance ceremony. I had been chosen to plan and host it, which I have to admit (as shamed as this makes me) I suddenly and acutely regretted when it came time to hold back my tears and speak to the fifty people in front of me about the importance of hope in the face of such madness. As per usual, several readings were included and the “choir” sang several beautiful songs. I, for one, quoted from the Talmud, saying, “ The Talmud says, “A man who injures a fellow man becomes liable to him for five items: for the wound, the depreciation and pain, for healing, for lost time and for degradation, and pays damages for that accordingly.” Now, today, here I entreat you to focus on the word “healing” and to gain hope and strength from such tragedy by looking at Irving. I also urge all of us to add a sixth item to that list: action. Let us leave here enlivened by a sense of purpose, a willingness to work for our beliefs, and an acute sense of responsibility to our fellow man.” I closed the ceremony by saying, “Let us take what we have seen here today, what we have born witness to all week, and enrich more than just our intellectual piggy-banks; let us gain an understanding of one of the only things that can ever truly be defined as human: the ineffable interdependence between hope, hardship, pain, joy, faith, and survival…and harbor it in our hearts as more than just a memory.” At this point, Irving walked to the front of the group and, before the Kaddish, chanted El Mole Rahamim.

This has been a relatively dry commentary on this day. I apologize for not having the ability to share anything else. In closing, I will say that it was an unbelievable honor to be able to travel with a man like Irving Roth, but that this has been one a very difficult week.

Krakow - Cracked out

From Majdanek we traveled to Krakow, which is incredibly preserved because the Nazis used it as a regional seat of government instead of destroying it. In the morning we visited the old Jewish Quarter (synagogues, cemeteries, etc). In part, we visited Oscar Schindler’s factory…I have to say that the sight itself was not particularly impressive, but having watched “Schinedler’s List” on the bus the day before, I still found it particularly touching. Even though he was sometimes of questionable character, this single man saved approximately 1,000 Jews; it is astounding to put this in perspective when you consider how many bystanders there were during WWII, people who idly let their neighbors be taken away, who turned away people (not only Jews) seeking food or shelter, etc. There are few, if any, words for the kind of blame one can place on inaction. As I have quoted before, Dante (D!!) has said that “The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality.”

Let’s consider that, in Bulgaria, the church clergy resisted the arrest and deportation of Jews by following the Metropolitan en masse (he literally laid down on the train tracks); as a result, not a single Jewish citizen of Bulgaria was killed during this period. Amazing, but rare. Renowned conservative commentator Dennis Prager (whose stepson is on this trip) once mentioned in a talk he was giving that, as a Jew who interacts with many gentiles on a daily basis, he occasionally cannot stop himself from wondering, even if for only a second, if this person would have been (or would be, if needed) a Righteous of the Nations, if this friend, colleague, stranger would risk their own life to do the what was morally correct. As somewhat anachronistic as that statement may seem, there is a truth that reverberates in its logic: even today, too many of us excuse ourselves from upholding the kind of standards that should come from our individual responsibility to those around us. It’s not really enough to sign up for a Save Darfur campaign because it is in fashion, if you are only going to forget it once it crosses into the real of kitsch and is replaced by a new cause in the general public consciousness. In the end, I guess all we can do is try….one of our nights in Poland, one of our speakers quoted a rabbi as saying (this is a paraphrase), “Do the right thing, the difficult thing, and your heart will follow.”

The afternoon in Krakow was wonderful because we spent it exploring the Old Town, including the church were Pope John Paul II first served when he was just an (ordinary) priest. Old Town Krakow is a romantic, beautiful city at dusk, and we finished the night with a delicious traditional Polish dinner in some cavernous basement restaurant!

Amazing Grace...

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

This morning we left Warsaw and drove to Lublin. On its outskirts, we stopped at the Majdanek concentration camp. When the camp was overrun by the Soviets in 1944, the Nazis did not have time to destroy their evidence, as they had in other camps; as a result, the entire apparatus is still intact. As Irving Roth noted, if the gas were to be provided, Majdanek could be up and running in an hour.

We stopped at the entrance for a long but incredible lecture on the development of the Nazi concentration system, from its original inclusion of political opposition, to its growth into a three-tier system that included slave labor camps, extermination camps, and concentration camps (as well as mixes of the aforementioned categories).

I’m not entirely sure how to go on with this account, so please excuse any failures that occur in my storytelling as I grapple with the reality of today.

There was no blood. Of course, there was no blood in the gas chambers. We knew this going in, but I was still unprepared for the sterility of the chambers, stained only with blue patches of mold that have grown consequently. An overwhelming emptiness surrounded us; the echo of our silence was our only companion, for words have no place in places like this... where human sin becomes tangible. We marched on through the remaining barracks, through the room filled with personal shoes – shoes with no matching pairs, tattered and torn, blackened with dust… though the washing rooms and the crematoria…we walked mostly in silence, except when Avi read or Irving talked.

In the end, we walked up to the huge monument and ascended the steps onto its platform. As we looked out, before us lay a field where 18,000 Jews had been murdered and buried in a single day, the grass rolling in waves where the pits had been marked, and behind us lay a concrete bowl filled with tons of ashes of the thousands who had suffered and met their ends at Majdanek. It was here that our group sat to commemorate and remember, as we had seen best. Greg, Luis, and I had planned a ceremony which, thankfully Greg was hosting…I could not have imagined speaking at this point. From the point that Randy began by asking all of us to bow our heads and lead us in prayer, I felt two constant streams flowing down my cheeks. I did little to wipe them, as I had only the presence of mind to pray. Following this, our small choir sang “Amazing Grace,” leaving the last verse to be sang a cappella (without Tommy’s guitar accompaniment) by the entire group in a single, echoing voice. This was followed by several readings and two more songs, and then, THEN Irving read the Kaddish. Needless to say that I at no point attempted to compose myself; there was no need for such artificiality in such a place and among such a group, for we all understood that suddenly and acutely on this day, the tragic loss of millions of people (Jews and non-Jews alike) had become the tragedy of one person…two people…three people…

To mark the end of the ceremony with hope, David Machlis, the Vice Chairman of March of the Living, who also happens to be traveling with us, led a sweeping crescendo chant of “Am Yisrael Hai.” At the end, somewhat out of breath, all forty-one of us turned to see, on the other side of the (circular) monument, a busload of IDF soldiers assembling for their own ceremony. They looked at us and we at them across the seemingly massive expanse of tons of human ashes….we watched them put up their flags and microphones in silence and walked to our bus, mutually nodding when we passed each other…what more did we really need to say, that we had not just solidified? The people of Israel live.

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On a brief random note, I have to note that I have become the group’s official photographer, joining Tony and Ralph’s team. My photos will not only be compiled for the participants, they will also be used in promotional materials used by the organization, etc.

To add just a slight note of humor in a series of posts that are somber at best, I have to admit that many fellow students have taken to calling me either “Harvard” or “Nati Light.”

Warsaw excursions

“And from your lips she drew a Hallelujah” – Rufus Waiwright lyrics

On our second day in Warsaw we spent a lot of time walking around the largest Ghetto in European history, in which the Nazis closed up 30% of the city’s populations into 2.4% of the city’s area. At it’s peak, the Ghetto contained 500,000 people, and by June 1943 the entire area was leveled in the suppression of the Ghetto uprising. We walked around the (very) few physical remains of the Ghetto and followed, quite literally, the steps that Jews would have taken then to be transported to Treblinka. Towards the end of the day, we also visited the place that commemorates the command bunker of the Ghetto fighters as well as the main monument to their struggle (a sculpture by Nathan Rappaport). In total, we heard a lot about the Ghetto Uprising of 1943.

Along the way, we also visited the orphanage of Janusz Korchak, a renowned educator and pediatrician of his time who sacrificed his own life to lend dignity to the deaths of the 200 children under his care. His orphanage was forced into the Ghetto and he followed his children there even though he was offered an exemption. Most importantly, when his children were deported to Treblika in 1943, he once again refused to be saved, and accompanied his children to their imminent death. There are no medals for actions like this (although yes, thankfully, sometimes there are monuments), but what could we worse than abandoning children in the hour of heir suffering? I have to admit I got incredibly emotional at this monument. We all give up so easily on things that are difficult, forgetting that some people have had the inner fortitude to step forward into certain death for the sake of lending humanity and dignity to others.

In the late afternoon we visited with American Ambassador Asche (the second longest US Ambassador to Poland). We sat in the garden of his beautiful home and spoke to him about Polish relations with the US, Israel, etc. What a strange, but great opportunity!

The second day ended with one of the most powerful experiences we’ve had thus far. We had dinner with a Righteous Gentile named Yadviga. Her family took in several Jews during the war and helped feed and maintain others. One of them became her violin teacher, sparking a love for music that turned her and her brothers into professional musicians, in part to honor Avraham’s death. A neighbor reported on her family and Yadviga’s father was arrested (never to be seen again), her mother was killed later on, and she and her brothers were left to grow up together with kind neighbors. Yadviga is considered a Righteous Gentile not only because of the acts of her family, but because of her own decisions as a child to help her family, to lie when stopped by police offers who suspected she was carrying food to hidden Jews, etc. I will not trivialize the experience of listening to her testimony, which is why I have opted to simply retell it as simply as possible, without coloring this account with any of my own reactions.

Among other things, today further solidified something that I have believed in fervently for several years now: you may have great goals, you may achieve great things, you may face your objectives and strive for them with great conviction, but if you are not kind to the people that surround you, your general contributions become somewhat mediocre. If we forget, ignore, dismiss, or simply fail to consider the simplest ways in which we can do good in our immediate environment, how can we really hope for the weight of our actions to be that which we intended? This is part of the reason why I never understand why people don’t seek out ways to volunteer, or are lazy about donating blood…the small things not only matter, they also stand as a powerful testament to the way you view our individual responsibility and the selfishness with which you regard your own position. By excusing ourselves from such a responsibility, we are oversimplifying our lives and ignoring the power of the individual.

Zig-zagging across the Atlantic

"It's been a long time coming, but I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will" - Sam Cooke lyrics
 
Let us skip the uneventful period of my short stay in NY and plunge right into the next phase of my summer journey: Poland and Israel!! First, let me explain that I will be traveling with 34 college and graduate students from across the nation, in addition to a group of adults in charge of the program. Among them is, for example, David Brog (author and HLS alumnus), who has essentially become a big brother figure for several of us. Most strikingly, we will also be traveling through Poland with Irving Roth, who is a survivor of BOTH Auschwitz and Buchenwald (as a tangent, when he was in Buchenwald, Irving stayed in the same room as Eli Weisel). It has been somewhat strange to find myself, at the end of a tumultuous summer on my first group travel experience, and a very Christian one no less, but I have to admit that I have felt comfortable, welcome, and united with these people from the very beginning. I have been incredibly lucky and feel (if you will allow me this temporary cliché) like I have met several people already whose friendship I intend to keep after this trip is over. In part, what reassures me is that we have already had a great effect on each other, as silly as that may sound.
 
And so, after two days of orientation together at a hotel by JFK Airport, we all crossed the Atlantic and landed in Warsaw, Poland. The first day was relatively light in terms of sight seeing, but we still visited the Old City in Warsaw,  spend time in the only pre-war synagogue that is still standing (and operating), and walked around different parts of the city as we endeavored to understand Jewish life in the city pre-WWII. After having lunch in a park, we traveled to the Gesia Jewish Cemetery, which was our first tangible encounter with death in its many forms. On the one hand, the commentary told the story of ordinary Jews who lived and died in Warsaw and who lie buried there, their graves marked appropriately, but on the other hand, there are mass graves were 100,000 people were buried after dying in the ghetto during the 2.5 years it existed. Towards the end of our time there, I walked up to a memorial to the children of Warsaw who had perished during the Holocaust and, silently, placed a small pebble on the face of the tablet. Jewish tradition is to place rocks on the graves we commemorate, to mark a promise of remembrance...I followed this tradition because the impermanence of flowers had never seemed less appropriate.
 
After dinner, we met in a conference room at our hotel for a discussion with two Polish students who are involved in Jewish studies, as well as Yolanda (spelling?), who runs the Olive Tree Foundation (an organization devoted to educating Polish youth about the Holocaust). All three of them spoke about their interest and their commitment to understand a people and a history that appealed to them for very emotional, very personal reasons...I have to admit that although their personal reasons were for the most part religious and rooted firmly in their interpretation of the Bible (which, I should mention, is not the case for me), I found their testimony reaffirming in a different, perhaps unintended way. At one point Yolanda quoted a rabbi who had said, "Do not tell me you love me if you do not know the reasons for my suffering." A simple phrase and a very blunt one, but to me it rang true as a denunciation of the kind of superficiality most of us espouse today in our relationships with other people: we have friends, we have acquaintances, buddies, partners, lovers, whose lives and cultural/historic paths we spend little time understanding, in the process failing to realize that in such a way we only really understand a fraction of them. On a personal note, I feel that those friends of mine who have never asked, never ventured to delve into the past of my families, my countries of heritage, have a somewhat fractioned portrait of who I am...and I, of course, am guilty of exactly the same thing in return. As a result, I took this trip as a personal attempt to rectify, at least in part, this approach and to fill in the portraits I have of the Jewish people I have known and those who are still important in my life.

After the meeting, I went to the gym with some of my new friends and spent a very solid time in the hotel's sauna!

At this point, let me briefly mention on a tangent that our group is accompanied by Avi, our knowledgeable and hyper-intense tour guide and Martin, our KGB-looking security man. Both of these men have proven to be not only helpful, but endlessly amusing, especially Martin since he appears to have been transposed directly from a film about retired operatives! He did intervene when some creepy man was following me without me noticing, however, so I have developed a greater respect for his seemingly strange position. Lastly, we also have two cameramen – Ralph and Tony – who I can easily say are two of my favorite people on this trip hands down.

In addition, we happened to coincidentally share our hotel in Warsaw with two unexpected groups of people: (a) IDF soldiers on a Holocaust remembrance trip, ad (b) survivors of the general Warsaw uprising of 1941 (not the Jewish Ghetto uprising), who happened to be celebrating the 65th Anniversary of their unsuccessful revolt against the Germans. Needless to say, being here feels like we are caught in some strange alternative history, one in which the past and the present are somehow existing simultaneously (Jorge Luis Borges comes to mind…sigh, I love that man’s delusional and brilliant writing)…here I was, a Cuban-Russian immigrant to the United States, 23 years old, walking past Israeli soldiers on their way to being reminded what they fight for and octogenarians who stood up against the very men who terrorized the Jew decades earlier. I’m not sure I can properly explain how this moment felt; suffice it to say it was surreal. David Brog also mentioned that what we are doing is almost as essential as what the IDF does, because the ideological battle also matters.