Continued from the previous post!

After the camel ride, we visited the Beit Guvrin caves and took part in an ongoing archaeological dig. We mostly found 2,000 year old pottery, but some found animal bones. The really exciting part was spelunking through a newly surveyed cave that hadn't even been mapped yet, and we climbed up and through tight holes. Of course, the innuendos flew. The cave wasn't a tourist attraction – one of the archaeologists had actually been lost in the caves for 18 hours – but I'm glad that the caves were actually an underground lair made by man in Biblical times so they weren't full of scary cave animals. It was so much fun that I'd really love to go spelunking like this in America, and I might look into it. In the least, I'll have a good excuse to say 'spelunking' over and over.

Wow, this two-part entry is super-long and I've only covered Wednesday and Thursday so far! I'll try to finish up, but it goes on. From the caves, we drove back to Jerusalem to Mt. Herzl, named for the father of Zionism, Theodor Herzl. At Mt. Herzl lie the graves of all of the great Jewish leaders, as well as the IDF soldiers. Honestly, from being involved with political movements at school, “Zionist” has always been thrown around as a dirty word – probably because Hunter has a lot of left-wingers involved with supporting the Palestinian Authority. However, Herzl's goal was simply to help Jews escape oppressive lands in order to be in a safe place, and that's something everyone ought to agree with. Oh well, I won't get into it. Either way, the tears were rolling down my face at the military cemetery after hearing individual stories of courage and valor. Whether or not Israel has been right or wrong in its actions, it hurts to see graves of perished 18 year olds who died to defend their country after their parents had been slaughtered in the Holocaust.

After the cemetery visit, we piled back into the bus and finally returned to the hotel. Now, after mountain hiking, swimming in the Dead Sea, desert sleeping, camel riding, and cave exploring, I was absolutely filthy. There was a shower at the Bedouin tents, but our group leader failed to inform us, so I didn't bring shower shoes or any soap. My group is full of spoiled sorority girls, and they immediately turned catty and cliquey once the hotel rooms were assigned. They played some sort of cup-and-ball switching game with some of the other girls, and kicked people out of their rooms to switch them around so they could be with their friends. I was dying to wash all of the dirt off of my skin and hair, but I had to sit in the hallway for an hour with all of my bags waiting to find out which room would finally be mine. Ugh. I finally got a room with two other girls, but I was absolutely infuriated at how long I had to wait to wash off. We then had “Bar night”, which involved sending all of the Birthright kids to some reserved bar with no one else in it. They blasted Soulja Boy and Flo Rida, while the fratties kept yelling about how they were going to cheat on their girlfriends and get plastered as hell -- when we had to wake up at 6:45 the next morning. It was disgusting how drunk they got, and completely embarrassing. I've written in the past about how American students drink for the sake of getting trashed as opposed to drinking for the sake of enjoying time with friends or meeting someone, and this night was no different. One guy wound up calling the group leader the C-word, made out with two girls at once, and puked during the Western Wall visit the next morning, so apparently he'll be on a flight home on Saturday night. Good. I wonder what kind of lives these kids have where getting hammered far outweighs intellectual and spiritual pursuits?

Friday morning was the best of all. Since I only had one glass of Merlot as opposed to pint after pint of beer, I was up and ready to visit the Jewish quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem and the Western Wall. The Old City was built over 2,000 years ago, and the buildings look about the same as they ever have, save for the private residences, small shops, and Yeshivas (Jewish schools) tucked away within their nooks. Walking around the Old City, we saw King David's tomb, the room in which Jesus ate his Last Supper, Armenian Christians selling souvenirs, and the work-in-progress excavations of the Southern Wall. In case you're unfamiliar with the walls I'm referring to, they belonged to the Second Temple of Jerusalem, which was destroyed by the Romans 2,000 years ago. The Western Wall is the holiest place in Judaism, even sans temple. Thousands of Jews of all denominations were gathered at the Wall praying and tucking notes with prayers into the wall's cracks, while on the other side, a Muslim prayer was called out over the loudspeaker for the devout followers of Islam at the Dome of the Rock. The feeling in the air was magical, and it sounds wacky, but I definitely felt the presence of God. Hey, there's gotta be some reason why three religions consider Jerusalem the holiest place on earth. Something really hit me when I got to the Western Wall, and I realized some very important things about myself, the world, and life in general as I slid my prayer between its bricks. It was an incredible, life-changing experience, to say the least.

The Machaneh Yehuda street market was our next destination, a bustling street market with vendors selling all sorts of fruits, vegetables, sweets, and Judaica. It was packed worse than the 6 Train at rush hour, with people being just as pushy to get what they needed. The big rush was in preparation for Shabbat, the Jewish holy day of rest, which starts at Friday at sundown and continues til Saturday at dusk. I ate some street shwarma, which is a delicious Middle Eastern chicken pita sandwich that has a very unique, spiced flavor. We left the market with goods in hand to prepare for Shabbat, and after hearing the Shabbat siren ring throughout the city, we lit the candles, attended services, and had a lovely Shabbat dinner complete with tasty challah bread. Mmmm, challah bread.

Right now it's Saturday morning, and therefore still Shabbat, and today I'll be having my Bat Mitzvah! I was never really formally religiously educated due to how tumultuous my childhood was, so here's my opportunity to become a real live Jewish woman. That's pretty cool, because I became a woman body-wise several years ago and it's about time I caught up spiritually. I can't believe that I'm having it in Jerusalem! I called my Grandma about it, and she said she was flabbergasted. I asked about my father's Bar Mitzvah so I could find out his Hebrew name, and she told me she couldn't remember much about it except how he got to have his after-party at a Chinese restaurant, That's okay, because the name she gave him will be fine for the ceremony. As for my Hebrew name, I chose the name Aviva, because it means “spring”. I think I've been through a hell of a lot of winter, and now is the springtime of my life when all is hopeful and promising. It's sort of an informal Bat Mitzvah, but it still means a lot to me.

Don't worry though, I'm not going to become crazy-religious. I like Reform Judaism because it's pretty liberal, and keeping Kosher would drive me absolutely insane. I could never give up shellfish, my wardrobe, or not has cheezburger. The scholar Hillel said back in the day that Judaism all comes down to the Golden Rule, and the rest is just commentary. As one who's not prone to following archaic laws, but believes in the essentials of Judaism, God, and said Golden Rule, that's why I think I make a good Reform Jew. Yay for making my grandma proud!

Time to study my Bat Mitzvah prayer and enjoy the day of rest. Pool time, too! I can't wait for Tuesday, when we go to the Golan Heights and then zip-line off of a cliff by the Jordan River. Israel rules!