Winter Break in NY

Home.

For the past ten days this word has been a confusing part of my vocabulary.

Before coming to Israel, home evoked a clear image in my head—my five bedroom, cozy condo on Chestnut Street in Rye, NY. I picture the places that, when driving by, give me the feeling I’ve arrived where I belong. I see my High School, a pleasant six-minute walk from my doorstep. In downtown, on Purchase street, I think of Starbucks, Sunrise, the Library, and the YMCA. Then I see Oakland beach and Rye Town Park, where I took my first steps.

With such a strong tie to the town I grew up in, how is it that throughout my stay in America, I almost always referred to Israel as home? How could it be that the other morning, while talking to my parents in my house, I told them I was sad to leave them again but happy to be returning home?

And so the inevitable question arises: have I created a new home in Israel?

It must be so, for the change in my mindset indicates a bit more than a couple of Freudian slips. Incredibly, just four months in the Holy Land has been enough time to solidify an entirely new image of this symbolic word, something that had been so intrinsic and simple until now.

So, the past ten days felt like a quick break from reality—a retreat back to life as it used to be, as if I nothing had changed.

While driving through my town, I felt myself observing more than usual. I saw just a few changes; a shop closed down here, a restaurant opened there. After four long months, I was a bit shocked to see that things were only slightly different.

I noticed this sort of anticlimactic feel upon seeing my friends. When first reuniting, we shrieked, hugged, and cried like babies; but soon, as we fell into the normalcy of being home, we interacted as if we hadn’t been apart for so long. We’d start having a normal conversation until one of us realized we had to explain why we said a certain new phrase or who a person is. We’d digress, spending hours exchanging stories, realizing how different our experiences have been. I told them every detail of my fifteen-mile hike to the Dead Sea, while they filled me in on frat parties and finals week. Through their stories, I’m beginning to vicariously feel college life, thought I’m not quite there yet.

When I look back on my winter break, I see myself like an outsider looking into Leora’s home life. With a new perspective, I’m witnessing Leora back in Rye, doing the same things she did before Year Course—going to pilates classes at the Gym, seeing a movie at the Port Chester theater, eating a Subway Sandwich, renting a movie from Blockbuster. Essentially, all of the simple activities I took for granted for so long made this winter break fantastic.

Another great aspect of vacation was experiencing the little luxuries: good shower pressure, heating, clean floors, and, the big one, privacy. I feel like in this respect, Year Course has been a maturing experience—by taking away all of these simple conveniences, I have learned to appreciate them much more when they’re accessible.

Overall, I had a great time in Rye, NY. I won't bore you with every detail, so i'll tell you some highlights: Walking around Manhattan, catching up with friends, dining at nice restaurants, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Newport Aquarium, family bonding, celebrating Christmas, and lastly, getting caught in a crazy blizzard.

To make the whole blizzard experience even crazier, my best friend Casie and I decided it would be a GREAT idea to trek for almost two miles in the peak of the snow storm.

For what purpose you might ask?

We'd like to say it was our adventurous spirits that drove us to bundle up in layers and numb our toes for the sole purpose of experiencing the deliciousness that is a chipotle burrito. And let me tell you, it was well worth it. The workers at the restaurant were so amused by our determination, that they gave us chips on the house, and their sincerest gratitude for our business. Needless to say, we were the sole customers at the restaurant.

I can still feel the mascara running down my cheeks, my toes tingling while defrosting within my boots; yet, feeling so satisfied upon taking my first bite of the burrito from heaven, sitting in a heated, empty mexican chain restaurant with my best friend.

These are the types of absurd experiences I know I'll always remember--the stories I'll share with my Year Course friends when they ask about my visit "home."

Wherever it may be.