I have my final in two days and all I can think about is anything else.

I suppose that is the magical thing about studying abroad. You're still studying but your abroad…your horizon broadens, and when you see that there is so much world out there, your studies become just a small component of your life. Or you could see it as your mission to study life, not just text, vocab, and a vicious cycle of rigorous absorption and regurgitation of homeless (no meaningful context) factoids.

Before I jump into the story of the week…you know your in a different country when:
1) Your at a bonfire where it has been advertised that ‘smore-making’ is an activity, yet when you say “smore”, all the other people look at you like you have two heads, as they bravely attempt to assemble the nutella chocolate, British tea biscuits, and pink kosher marshmallows into a sandwich. Then marvel at the concept of the combination of sugars of fats that has become a hot, gooey, and slightly burnt reality in their hands.
2) Nutella and humus on a pita becomes an acceptable combination. Another American equated it to popcorn and m&m’s, a salty sweet surprise. Don’t diss it till you try it, and don’t try it unless you’re in Israel where both condiments are up to par.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to visit Jerusalem right before Shabbat. I first went to Mount Hertzel, which is a mountain and a monument to the history of Israel, and it’s people. On one side, at the bottom, is the Yad Veshem Holocaust museum to show the lowest state of the Jewish people in history. At the top is the grave of Herztel, the man who theorized and pushed for the creation of a Jewish state; with him there are several Israeli leaders. At the top lies the ideology behind the state of Israel. Finally, on the other side of the mountain, there is a live graveyard that contains the bones of soldiers…from all past wars and current events. This is the price that Israel continues to pay for its existence as a Jewish state. This place was beautiful and I had the opportunity to find my great uncle buried almost near the top with six other paratroopers who died on a mission over 60 years ago.
Reading his name-my last name in Hebrew on that gravestone made me feel as though I was in his presence on top of Mt. Hertzel. Meaning that a man who I had always known to be dead, was suddenly associated with a life. I gained access to a tiny window with a view into his life. A window that I could see through clearly. Previous to this visit, the only portal I could view him through was so far from the reaches of my mind that I needed my father to hold me up with constant and vivid story telling to get just a brief glimpse. This moment finally imprinted his existence into my mind. All the stories I have heard about him are connecting and I am finally getting to know the man in all those stories, the war hero, brother to my grandfather, ect. Here the foundation to understanding my family's past has been laid down. As I placed a rock on his tomb stone (as is customary here) I found comfort in knowing that I will not, from this point on, forget who he is or what he did.

A final note: The holocaust museum I visited has a wonderful mission to give a name to all holocaust victims. So they will no longer be remember as an unfathomable number, but rather as people lost. So if you have family that perished in the Holocaust, it is worthwhile to check their website and see if they have that member logged. If not you can submit an application and send them pictures. A page will be created in their archives so that future generations can understand the loss and start to make connections. So far they have 3,000,000 people.

http://www.yadvashem.org/wps/portal/IY_HON_Welcome