Week 8.5 | October 21-October 28, 2014

Me and friends on the tracks at Auschwitz-Birkenau

Poland. I don't even know where to start or how to describe the last week, so I guess I'll start from the beginning, with a brief overview. Obviously, due to my myriad of travel issues, I missed the first day, which my school spent touring Prague (a city I have been told I must go back to). When I met up with my school, they had just finished visiting a town called Ticozkin, in which one of our teacher's father's family was rounded up and killed. He was spared, but sent to Auschwitz. I met up with the group, exhausted from my night and still unwinding from all the anxiety, and went straight to Treblinka. Treblinka was a death camp (i.e. no one was sent to work, they were immediately gassed), so the Nazis burnt it down once they had eliminated the Jews of Poland. In its place is a massive monument of tombstones, each marked with a community, town, village or city from which Jews were sent to Treblinka. There were 17,000 stones, for more than 900,000 victims. Almost as many victims as Auschwitz, but with almost no survivors and no remaining camp, it is hardly discussed. We then drove back to Warsaw, where we visited the sight of the former Warsaw ghetto (which was leveled, along with the rest of Warsaw, by the allies in 1945) and the place where the heroes of the Warsaw ghetto uprising lived and died. We then walked along Heroism Street, a street dedicated to the righteous gentiles of the holocaust, singing songs in the freezing night as we trudged down the street, exhausted and hungry.  

In Treblinka

Wednesday morning we awoke at our usual time (5AM), and went the Warsaw cemetery. I actually enjoyed the cemeteries a lot-in contrast to the death and concentration camps, they represented the course of natural human life, and of the hundreds of years of Polish Jewry that existed long before Nazism. We visited the tombs of many famous Rabbis whose teachings we have studied, and in each spot, a different student was assigned to speak about their life, their beliefs, and any stories or notable things about them. It was interesting, and reminded us that there was truly so much life in Poland before the war-so much of our Judaism today has been influenced by Jewish life in Poland, as it was truly the epicenter of Jewish life before World War II. We also stopped at the graves of famous gentiles or regular Jews who became heroes during the holocaust-including Janusz Korczak, who ran an orphanage and refused to leave his orphans, even as they were escorted to their certain deaths in Treblinka and he was offered an escape by the Nazis. 

We then made our way to Majdanek, a death and work camp (most people were sent to work, some were killed immediately). Majdanek was, there is no other word to describe it, so truly harrowing. It was the first camp I had ever seen. It is situated right in the center of a city, I kid you not, there are apartment buildings beginning half a kilometer away. The Nazis put it right near Lublin as a warning the Poles to stay in line or suffer the same fate. As this was early on in the trip, every step I took felt so meaningful, every experience so raw, that I could hardly bear to keep my eyes open. Walking into the gas chambers in a silent line, I could hear the sobs of my friends who had already exited-some of whom had family who had perished in Majdanek in the very room in which we stood. I can't describe what it was like to stand in that dark cement room. I can't explain what it was to know that everywhere I looked was the last place thousands of my people had lived. I don't remember what I was thinking, or if I was thinking at all. It was so surreal to touch the same walls they touched, to open the same door that still bore the fingernail scratches of thousands of people who had tried in vain to escape once they realized what was happening to them. I wanted to cry but I couldn't. Then, as I was exited, I passed the S.S. room. Inside, there were 2 cartons of gas, a pipe in which to load the gas, and a small window which looked into the gas chamber. It was probably no more than 1'x1', and was barred on both sides, but still, I could clearly see into the gas chamber from this side. It took me a second to understand what this was. The S.S. would look through the window, watching the people die. Only when they were sure everyone was dead would they open the door, pulling the bodies out. I was asked to speak in front of my school on the day we returned about the Poland trip. Out of all the things I saw and experienced, here is all I could think of to say:  

I realize now that it is impossible to come back from Poland without questions. My questions are not God questions, but people questions. When I think about that window in Majdanek, I realize it was just a window, like any other window. To me, nothing is more telling of human nature than the fact that the windows in our Beit Midrash* at school, the windows that spill light onto the backs of hundreds of girls as we learn Torah together in Jerusalem, go by the same name as that little piece of barred-up glass in Majdanek.  

*big room in which the Bible and other Jewish works are studied

"Toilets" 

I could talk all day about Majdanek, but I think you get the idea. We saw many other things-barracks, a room of shoes, a memorial full of Jewish ashes, the crematorium, a mass grave, but nothing was like that small window. 

Thursday was a rainy day, and just as freezing cold as every other day in Poland. As with every morning, we davened in a shul that was once full of Polish Jews and is now an empty memorial to an entire way of life that was extinguished in 3 years. We then made our way to Sobibor, another death camp. Like Treblinka, it was burnt to the ground, and only now, through excavations, are they beginning to find relics from it-abandoned engagement rings and jewelry, articles from murdered Jews that are all we have left of them. The Nazis, despite their obsession with documentation, did not document the death camps (to name a few-Treblinka, Sobibor, Belzec, and Chelmno). In fact, it was forbidden to take pictures, and all orders regarding the camp were communicated through word of mouth. Still, an S.S. guard, Kurt Franz, a known sadist, secretly documented the death of the Jews in Treblinka and Sobibor in an album he entitled My Beautiful Years. So yeah. No comment on that.  

At Belzec

We then drove to Belzec, where we visited the death camp (again, burnt down in an effort to hide the 500,000 murders committed there). We then went inside the Belzec museum and had a fascinating discussion about human nature in the holocaust.We talked about the perpetrators, both the head honchos, the S.S. guards and other lay men working for the Nazis, and the regular citizens who either collaborated with the Nazis or watched passively as they murdered millions of innocents. We read their testimonies, listened to their inteviews, and discussed how horribly complicated it is to be human-humans are capable of doing such horrible things to each other, but at the same time, during the worst times, humans do amazing things for one another. We heard and saw so many examples of both that it's hard to come out with a clear picture of what humanity is like after Poland. But maybe that's the point. Humans-like all other things in life, I've realized, are not generally black and white, but shades of gray. We can do so much good and so much bad. A particularly interesting testimony was that of Franz Stangl, head of the extermination camps Treblinka and Sobibor, who is responsible for the death of a million Jews. Unlike many of his colleagues, Stangl wasn't a sadist or a conscience-less person. Not to say he wasn't a horrible person capable of terrible evil, but from his testimonies, it seems he wasn't sick. He knew what he was doing was wrong and describes drinking himself into oblivion and hiding in his barrack so he didn't had to witness the goings-on in the camp. Almost none of the prisoners to pass through his camps ever laid eyes on him. His testimonies, which can be read in the book Into That Darkness: An Examination of Conscience, are so interesting to read, from a psychological perspective. In the book, an interview between Stangl and Gita Sereny, the following conversation is recorded:

"When I was on a trip once, years later in Brazil... my train stopped next to a slaughterhouse. The cattle in the pens, hearing the noise of the train, trotted up to the fence and stared at the train. They were very close to my window, one crowding the other, looking at me through the fence. I thought then, “look at this; this reminds me of Poland; that’s just how the people looked, trustingly, just before they were put in tins...I couldn’t eat tinned meat after that. Those big eyes... which looked at me... not knowing that in no time at all they’d all be dead... My conscience is clear about what I did, myself," he said, in the same stiffly tone he had used countless times at his trial, and in the past weeks, when we had always come back to this subject, over and over again. But this time I said nothing. He paused and waited, but the room remained silent. "I have never intentionally hurt anyone, myself," he said, with a different, less incisive emphasis, and waited again - for a long time. For the first time, in all these many days, I had given him no help. There was no more time. He gripped the table with both hands as if he was holding on to it. "But I was there," he said then, in a curiously dry and tired tone of resignation. These few sentences had taken almost half an hour to pronounce. "So yes," he said finally, very quietly, "in reality I share the guilt. . . . Because my guilt . . . my guilt . . . only now in these talks . . . now that I have talked about it all for the first time. . . ." He stopped." 

Stangl died 19 of heart failure hours after confessing to his guilt, alone in his prison cell.   

Moving on, Friday morning we went to the children's forest. This, for me, was one of the hardest parts of the trip. In the children's forest, we stood in a mass grave of 800 children taken from a nearby orphanage. For the Holocaust, 800, tragically, is nothing. What is 800 compared to 6 million? But it was here I realized that it is not about numbers. In Jewish law, we are taught that you cannot chose one life over another, or even over many others (except under very very specific conditions, and even so, this is not universally agreed upon), because each life is of infinite value, as is each second of life. The infinite preciousness of every morsel of human life cannot be discounted.  So maybe 800 is nothing, but 800 is everything. 800 infinities is as great as 6 million infinities. Our mourning for the lost children of the holocaust was one of the most poignant parts of the trip. We each were given a biography of a child (mine was named Jaqueline Morganstern, she was killed in Auschwitz under Dr. Joseph Mengele's experiments), and sang songs in their memory. It is impossible to mourn for the loss of even one child. It is even more impossible when you're speaking about millions of them. There are no words. 

Standing in the mass grave of the children of Tarnow

After the children's forest, we took a break from the Holocaust for shabbat. We traveled to Krakow, a beautiful and ancient city, and explored the Jewish quarter. We went to a cemetery and continued with our presentations about the rabbis who lived and died there, along with the millions of regular Jews for whom Poland was home long before the Holocaust. We had a beautiful Friday night davening in a shul from the 16th century and a delicious dinner. Shabbat was lovely. It was the only day we saw the sun, and although it was cold, it felt so great to walk around Krakow, laughing and enjoying life, feeling grateful and joyous. It was really a special shabbos. Saturday night we went to the birthplace of the Beis Yakov schools-of which today there are hundreds. They were the first formal Jewish schools for women, established in Poland less than 100 years ago.  

^^^the sign above the seat of the Ramah in his shul, a famous Ashkenaz Jewish Rabbi whose writings strongly impacts Jewish life to this day

Sunday morning we woke up bright and early, 3:30AM (they changed the clocks in Poland that night, so it actually felt like 4:30, which did not help us feel less exhausted). We davened in a shul outside of Auschwitz, then marched silent to Auschwitz-Birkenau. Birkenau, the concentration/death camp built for the Jews, is the place where almost every Jew was sent. Auschwitz I, with its infamous Arbeit Macht Frei sign, only ever held 400,000 people all together, and mostly Poles. It was only a work camp, and was established in old army barracks, so living conditions were significantly better than in Birkenau. Birkenau was surreal. We were the first ones there, so it was silent. I know so many survivors, and have heard so many stories about it, that it didn't feel real to be there, standing and walking exactly where they stood and walked, standing in front of their barracks, looking at their toilets, touching the formidable barbed wire that haunted them. It was our coldest day in Poland, a mere 28 degrees in the morning, with the heaviest fog I have ever seen. We were outside the entire day, from 5AM to 7PM, so my toes were numb and I was so cold I actually stopped feeling cold after a while.  

 

^^^people searching for family names in the Auschwitz I museum

 

^barracks, Birkenau

 

^when I said Auschwitz I kind of looked like a college campus, I wasn't kidding

 

^Birkenau

 

^browsing through the list of names

 

Auschwitz I, the work camp, we did only at the end of the day. As previously mentioned, their prisoners were sent to work, and were housed in nicer brick buildings, so aside from the barbed wire and the gas chambers, it honestly looked like a college campus. They have since converted all but two of the barracks into museums, so it didn't feel as authentic as Birkenau or Majdanek. By the time we got to Auschwitz I, we were so tired and sick of talking about the holocaust that nothing they said on our tour really penetrated. Tourists were all over the place, taking pictures and posing in front of signs (so weird). The only things that hit me at the time were the pots and pans collected (from people who were told they were simply being "relocated" and brought household items in order to establish new lives), and the hair room. The hair room. It's literally a room full of the hair of 50,000 women and young girls. The Nazis sold most of the Jewish hair, but some was saved. We entered a room of it. Behind a sheet of glass, a huge huge pile of hair. This was the only part of the entire trip to Poland that I found truly disturbing. In the huge pile of indistinguishable hair were fully formed braids-some over a foot long. Perfectly plaited hair, braided in these women's final moments. For these women, the only thing they left behind is a braid, a lock of hair, a ponytail. Worst of all was the children's hair. Children's hair has a certain unmissable look-the perfect blonde tendrils with their soft curls at the bottom. Mixed in with the masses of brown hair, the hair of the children stood out to me. I still cannot shake the image. 

Monday morning, we woke up early, visited the former Lodz ghetto (the only ghetto in which you can see part of the ghetto wall), and the train station where the Jews were sent to camps. You can enter the cattle cars, the same cattle cars where thousands of people sat, stood, breathed and cried on the way to their deaths. But by this point, I wasn't shocked or even all that sad. I was mostly just so, so tired. We then drove to Chelmno, the first death camp. Chelmno is a big plot of land in the middle of the forest with squares outlined in stones, for each of the mass graves. We were told that if we were to dig about 2-3 inches under the soil in any mass grave, we would find bones. Obviously, I did not partake in this, as I think it is both creepy and so disrespectful to those for whom this is their only grave, but it was still eery to sit beside those graves with that knowledge. We lit a candle beside each grave, and we walked away. As always, the hardest part was walking away, knowing all the people who were there never got that chance. 

And then we drove. We drove all the way to Prague, for 9 hours straight. As with all things on the trip, if you weren't crying, you were laughing hysterically. No one can handle so much mourning and so much death. When we were in our off time, we laughed and laughed.  The ride to Prague was long, but it was nice to know we were leaving. We boarded a red-eye flight home, and landed in Jerusalem at 4:30AM. We drove straight to the Kotel (Western Wall) for morning prayers, and then we went home, showered, and went to sleep. I woke up 7 hours later. 

What's the take away? I don't really know. I'm so happy I got to go, so grateful that I got the experience, but what now? I haven't figured it out yet. To appreciate Judaism more, to promise to appreciate my blessings more and cherish my life more, to try to be a better person and a better Jew, it doesn't feel like enough. Then again, I don't know what could feel like enough, or if there's even a such thing. If I figure it out, I'll let you know. All I know is that I am so happy to be home. Landing in Israel was an amazing experience. To know that so many of those who died would have given anything to be here, to know that most of the survivors did everything they could to be here, made me feel both ridiculously blessed and absurdly guilty that I don't appreciate more how amazing this country is. In DP camps, survivors were asked to rate their #1 choice for resettlement once the camps were closed. Most wrote Palestine. As second choice, hundreds of people wrote "crematorium". They would rather die than be anywhere but here. Israel is our only true home, something that seems undeniable after having been in Poland. The Polish Jews felt the same way about their countries as we do about America, and yet, it turned on them in a second. It wasn't their true home. Israel will always be the place where Jews belong, and even if we don't make it here permanently, it is amazing to know that we have it, and hopefully always will. In the last week, there have been 2 terrorist attacks in Jerusalem. One, a random act of terror that claimed the life of a 3 month old baby and a women in the process of converting, the other, an assassination attempt on the life of a Jewish politician whose life still hangs in the balance as I write this.  Minutes ago, we got a text from my principal telling us not to go into the Old City tonight because there are safety concerns. This place is supposed to be our home, the one place that is ours. After having been in Poland for 8 days, it felt so good to be in our home, our place, with our people. When this stuff happens, it's scary and unsettling. I know I will be okay, but I want my city and my people to be okay. There are a lot of tensions right now, and they are palpable. I am praying for peace and safety, and I hope that wherever you are on the globe, you do the same. Israel and the Jewish people need your prayers. 

עם ישראל חי 

Week 8 | October 18-21, 2014

Hi everyone! I am thankfully back in Israel after one of the longest weeks of my life, and back with lots of stories and pictures. As I spent Tuesday and onward in Poland, I felt that was deserving of its own post. I saw, experienced, and learned so much that it felt wrong to me to ball everything into one post. So I thought I would do a post on everything from two shabbats ago through my arrival in Warsaw, and then pick up from Warsaw until my return to Israel in a different post, which I hope to have up tonight or tomorrow. So here is what happened during the short period from Friday, October 18th, through my arrival in Warsaw on Tuesday morning. 

Shabbat was lovely-it was my last quality time spent with my family, including some fun meals with our cousins, the Zuckers, and lots of walking around Jerusalem and the Old City (and even some jewelry shopping with my sister). Sunday morning, I woke up stressed. I had a lot to organize before my trip to Poland, and because of Caleb's bar mitzvah, I would be flying alone on a separate flight from the rest of my group a couple of hours after they left. I spent the day packing and showing my family my school, and then took my Nana and Hannah on a pre-Poland school trip to Yad Vashem, the Israeli holocaust museum. It was fascinating and a good intro to Poland for me. Sunday night we went out for dinner, and on the way back, my parents told me they wanted to buy some scotch. I told them I'd walk with them to buy some, while I sent Hannah, Caleb, and Nana back with my suitcase. And here, my friends, is where things go downhill. 

I hailed them a taxi off the street and watched them drive away, before continuing to walk with my parents. When we had finished our shopping, we hailed our own cab. On the way home, I got a string on frantic Whatsapps from my sister: Rebecca call the cab right now!! Call cab! We left suitcase in cab!  Call!!! Now!!! I began to panic, realizing I had hailed them a cab off the street, so unless they knew anything about the cab, the suitcase would disappear. Of course, they had no idea about the cab driver's name, company, or number. All Hannah would volunteer was that the cab was white, which is like saying a cab is yellow in New York City. All cabs are white.  

We stood outside on the street for a hour, hailing cabs down to ask them to radio into their respective companies and ask about a missing suitcase. None were successful, and all told us that all hope was basically lost. We called the police in a last ditch attempt to find it, but they told us virtually the same thing: don't expect to ever see your suitcase again. At the moment I firmly gave up and began to sob, a taxi pulled up in front of our apartment and the angry cab driver got out, demanded 100 shekel, and flung the suitcase at us. My father refused to pay, and in their scuffle over how much to pay and whether or not the cab driver had done his job, I grabbed the suitcase and ran toward the apartment. Thank goodness! I had my suitcase, and all was well. 

Back in the apartment, I took my dress out for the bar mitzvah and lay it out to remove any wrinkles. It happens to be my favorite dress, and I was so excited to wear it. Two hours later, I checked back on it, and realized it was too wrinkly to wear. I wanted it to look nice for the bar mitzvah, not wrinkly and ugly. So I took the iron out, plugged it into an adapter (please note, not a converter) and waited for it to heat up. No less than three seconds later it was already steaming, so I pressed it down onto the chest of my beautiful, blush pink crepe dress. The minute I did, I knew something was wrong. I picked it up and realized it had seared a huge hole in my dress. The dress was unwearable. I briefly panicked, until I realized I had another dress, and that what I wore wasn't that important anyways. 

That morning, we woke up early, donned our Sunday's best, and headed to the Kotel. It was such a nice bar mitzvah-Caleb killed it with his Torah reading, and made not a single mistake. The food was delicious, the speeches were short but sweet, and everyone just enjoyed each other's company. It was so nice and so fitting for a bar mitzvah in Israel. After a delicious brunch, my parent's friends so kindly offered to drive me to the airport. I changed into my Poland clothing and prepared to go. I then realized I didn't have my wallet, but my parents assured me I would be fine and didn't need it. They handed me $200, which I put into my travel cosmetics case so it wouldn't get lost. I then headed to the airport.   

 

^^at the bar mitzvah on Monday morning, taking iPhone pics in between the photographer's pictures 

Upon arrival at the airport, they instructed me to remove my cosmetics and put then in my checked luggage, which I did without thinking twice. I checked in for my flight to Vienna, but could not get a boarding pass printed for my connection from Vienna to Warsaw. The lady at the El Al desk assured me it would be fine, I would have time to print my boarding pass and make my flight. Security took two hours and I ran to my gate, but I made my plane. Feeling grateful and tired, I leaned back in my chair and woke up 3 hours later as our plane began its descent into Vienna. I realized the plane was slightly delayed-only slightly, but still, with 50 minutes to connect, I needed every minute. I asked the flight attendant if I would have time to make my connection, and again, I was assured I would. We landed and I rushed toward my gate. 

And then I hit customs. By the time I made it out of customs, I had 6 minutes till my plane took off. I ran toward my gate, but I had to take a shuttle and the hallway once I got there was so long. The moment I hit my gate, I knew all was not right. The gate was empty and the sign said not Warsaw but Zurich. I felt a twinge of anxiety, but kept looking. The electronic Departures sign did not report a flight to Warsaw. What was happening? I approached the ticket counter and was told my flight had left. Two Israeli guys walking behind me heard the news and began to curse. They, too, had missed the connection to Warsaw. Together, we trudged through the airport, talking to different people who offered us mixed answers. Go to the El Al counter on the third floor, they'll get you on the next flight. No-there is no El Al counter here, you need to call them. What is El Al? Where are you going? There might be a flight to Warsaw in an hour. There are no flights to Warsaw until tomorrow. On and on went the conflicting information from different offices and attendants. No one offered us any real help. Meanwhile, I had to translate everything into Hebrew for the Israelis, who spoke, at best, broken English. Additionally, one of them was extremely handsy and kept suggesting the three of us get a hotel room together. I realized I wasn't safe with them, and made my way away from them. 

One thing became clear from all the negotiating-the next flight to Warsaw was at 7:15AM. It was now 10pm. I called my principal, who was already in Warsaw, and explained the situation. He told me not to worry-he would get our travel agent to find me a hotel and a new ticket. I called the travel agent and explained everything, including the fact that I had no credit cards and only had access to 150 shekel, which is like 35 dollars. He assured me that I would be fine and sent me to a hotel right across the street. Perfect! I could sleep here and return to the airport in the morning. I walked through the cold rain to the hotel, and walked up the counter to reserve a room. The man looked at me pityingly and told me there were no availible rooms. I put him on the phone with the travel agent, but he got the same bad news. I walked outside, tears streaming down my face. I then saw another hotel. Yay! But when I finally got there, soaking wet and sobbing, they, too had no rooms. Then my principal called me. He told me I could either find a bench to sleep on in the airport, or find a cab that would take only the card number with the actual credit card, and ride from there to the hotel. I found one, and using a translator, explained the situation. He told me it was fine, and that he could drive me to the nearest hotel in the city center, a nice but inexpensive hotel. I got into the cab. 

The entire ride to the hotel took 25 minutes and was mostly on the highway. I was tired, anxious, and had no idea where I was. The highway was pitch black and for all I knew, the cab driver was a murderer, a rapist, or some other kind of horrible I hadn't even thought of yet. When he pulled up by the hotel, I reached into my backpack to find my phone and felt a horrible lurch. It was gone! I removed everything from my backpack, found my phone, put myself together, paid for the cab, and walked inside. I had made a plan for the same cab driver to pick me up at 4:30AM, so now I was set. As I registered for the hotel, the guy asked me "Passport number?". I reached into my backpack in the spot where I kept my passport and felt nothing. I began to panic. I took everything out of my backpack on the hotel lobby floor but found nothing. I began to cry and panic. Sweat poured down my back, my chest ached. I realized that in the proccess of looking for my phone, I had left my passport in the cab. I ran onto the street, but he was long gone, and in the wet and muddy streets there was no passport. I was truly panicked. I called my dad freaking out, and he calmed down somewhat, reassuring me that I was safe and they would help me get a new passport if the guy didn't come back in the morning with it.  But it would be hard-I had no money, no ID or passport, and no luggage. I essentially had nothing. 

I sat down, and the horrible panic began to recede. I realized I was undoubtedly in a bad situation, but things were rock-bottom right now. I said a quick prayer and went to my hotel room. I didn't feel nervous anymore. In fact, I hardly felt anything. Just exhaustion and an aching desire to be home. I called my principal and relayed the latest information to him. He calmly told me not to worry, but that I would have to figure this out more or less on my own. He was running the Poland trip and had a lot on his plate, so he would help me all he could, but I would need to rely on my parents. His only last tip was to try and find a receipt from the cab. If I had one, I could call the company and maybe track him down. I found the receipt and ran back down to the front desk. It was already 1AM, but the front desk attendant called anyway, and spent 45 minutes speaking in rapid German to the cab company. He hung up and nodded at me-the guy would bring the passport back in the morning. I felt a huge wave of relief. As long as he showed up in the morning, I had a passport! I could leave Vienna! I went upstairs and readied myself for bed. The airport had given me an overnight package of essentials, so I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and put on the big sleep t-shirt. As I crawled into bed, I heard a knock.  

I threw on a skirt and headed for the door. I opened it, and there was the cab driver, holding my passport. I thanked him profusely, confirmed our plans for him to pick me up at 4:30AM, and then went promptly to bed. It was already 2:30AM by this point. When I woke up, at 3:50AM, I didn't even feel tired. An adrenaline rush propelled me forward and kept me feeling alert. I just wanted to get to Warsaw, and after all I'd been through, I knew I needed every bit of energy and attention I had left to get there. I turned the shower on to the hottest setting and ran in, accidentally burning my arm so that it was red for days afterward. Still, I managed a nice shower, dressed, organized my stuff, double checked that I had everything, and headed down to meet the cab. 4:25. 4:30, 4:35. 4:40. 4:45. 4:50. No cab.  

The front desk guy looked at me with the same pityingly look he'd given me the night before, and picked up the phone. He called four cab companies, all who refused to pick me up without a credit card (only the number). He then called his friend in the limo industry, but even his friend refused. I was out of options. I had almost no money and no where to change what little money I had into Euros or any other acceptable currency. This is where I think some sort of divine intervention occurred. Or maybe I just experienced a moment of human kindness so profound that it felt divine. 

The front desk guy, who I would later learn is named Robert, took 40 Euros out of his wallet and handed them to me. "I trust you" he answered when I asked how I would pay him back. He gave me his information, and I gave him a promise that I would generously pay him back. Still, he had no guarantee of my trustworthiness and no way to ensure that I would keep my word. Of course, I did, but he didn't know I would. Without him, I never would have made it to the airport in time. 

With Robert's generosity, I arrived at the airport, and whizzed through security. I checked in to my flight, and had my luggage transferred. I was sure that, given all my bad luck thus far, there was no way my luggage would make it to Warsaw. Imagine my surprise when, an hour later, I touched down in Warsaw and the first bag on the carousel was my own. My eyes welled with tears of relief when I realized I had made it safely and with everything I needed. The tears spilled over when I exited customs and was met by my rabbi, Rav Kaplan, with his long white beard, overcoat, trusty felt hat and warm smile. He handed me a sandwich of his own making and a bottle of water and ushered me to the car. I was finally safe and amongst people who would take care of me and protect me, and a was well. 

The rest of my journey through Poland will be posted in my next entry, hopefully tomorrow. XXOO

Week 7 | October 11-October 17, 2014

 

^^^Saturday night with my friends from high school at a friend's apartment. 

 

^at a club in Tel Aviv on Sunday night 

 

^^^At the beach in Tel Aviv on Monday with my friends 

 

^^^At the Kotel/Old City with my family on Tuesday night, right when they got in 

^^^family time in Jerusalem, including shopping in Mea Shearim (Hareidi neighborhood) for monogrammed Siddurs (prayer books) and the most beautiful bangles purchased for me from my parents. 

Hi! We've just had the most exhausting day so I'll be brief. After a lovely Saturday night spent in a friend's grandparent's apartment, I ventured to Tel Aviv for two days. Sunday night we spent clubbing (not my thing, but it seemed necessary to try it), and Monday was amazing. Me and my friends lounged around on the beach, eating chips and reading books for hours. Tuesday I spent preparing for my family, and Tuesday night they finally arrived! I am so happy to have them here now-we have already had so much fun shopping, eating, and just spending time together and experiencing Jerusalem. All together, I think we've been to the Kotel 4 times already. We had beautiful Sukkot davening at yeshiva on Wednesday night, and tonight are planning to go to the yeshiva Ari Zucker (cousin) went to (Netiv Aryeh) for davening. We have hosted a bunch of my friends for meals in our apartment and are planning to host many more. We're really just enjoying each other while we can. Miss you all, good shabbos from Jerusalem. XXOO