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Thank you, RyanAir

by Ally

The month of November 2021 has been one of the quickest of my life. Now that I’m finally in a routine here, I was able to visit two new cities: Lisbon and London. Each was a unique experience, so I wrote a journal entry after each trip to remember the details.  (more…)

A Week in Poland

by Charlie

My second month abroad was even more meaningful than my first. Not only did I learn more about Israel and Judaism in the classroom, but I also continued to explore the Old City by foot. In my first blog, I wrote about seeing the Dome of the Rock (or Temple Mount) from afar. Recently, I also had the opportunity to explore it up close during the one hour of the day that my program was permitted. 

  

  

I spent the last week of November in Poland. It was cold and gray, and the towns we visited were bleak. However, I enjoyed the food, which helped make up for the fact that it was my first Thanksgiving away from my family. I missed all of the traditional foods we eat each year, especially my grandma’s pecan pie. I also missed watching football with my dad and brother.   

 

In Poland, I visited many of the concentration camps from the Holocaust, including Auschwitz-Birkenau and Treblinka. I also saw the Warsaw Ghetto.  

  

Although I had previously studied and knew the historical significance of these sites, I was overwhelmed when I saw them in person. The population per square kilometer in Manhattan is almost 28,000. In the Warsaw Ghetto where Jews were forced to live, there were 125,000 Jews per square kilometer. They comprised nearly 30% of Warsaw’s population but occupied only 2.4% of its area. 

  

 

Leaving Poland, I was consumed by one thought: how truly lucky and privileged I am to be alive and to have been born in the United States. 

 

During the last few days in Poland, I learned about the Omicron variant to Covid. I also learned that if we didn’t make it back to Israel by midnight on November 28 we would be required to quarantine for three more days. Having already quarantined for a full week in September, I was really hopeful that my plane would be on time. As luck would have it, our wheels touched down 126 minutes after the deadline so we were immediately tested and hurried to our quarantine locations. I am looking forward to my final month in Jerusalem once quarantine ends. 

 

The World at Home

by Mariana

You would think that plunging directly into my hometown of almost nineteen years would yield routine results—invariable observations I would be wont to have. Yet, cradled between familiar mountains and blanketed by the same dusty borderland sky, my everyday community sprung opportunities ready to impart me with new knowledge. As my gap year commenced, my newfound role as an intern for Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center delivered a transformative culture shock a few short miles away from the border along which I had been raised. 

Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center (“Las Americas,” for short), prides itself on its unique hub of community volunteers, interns, paralegals, and attorneys, all working to provide relief and pro bono legal aid to migrants from across the globe. Interning for the Detained Team at Las Americas, I assumed differing roles to contribute, however slightly or laboriously, to the mission of the organization, from ordering files to interviewing detainees about their often-harrowing cases for asylum. 

Even just a few months into my work, I witnessed significant diversity and similarities across cases. Clients shared insight into the heart-wrenching realities of their home countries: some fled incarceration under an unjust government, unmitigated destitution, religious persecution, or as victims caught in the crossfire of corrupt systems and violent groups. Some immediately acquiesced to substandard conditions and discrimination at detention centers in the hopes of prompt release, while others petitioned officials for basic respect. Some arrived already suffering physical and/or mental trauma, escaping brutality and degradation to the most primitive conditions imaginable. At times my stomach would churn upon hearing the clients’ ages, some even younger than me.  

Across backgrounds, every client bore ideals valued by the US to this same country that attempted to turn them away. While some advocated for their freedoms and inalienable rights, others promoted love, faith, assiduity, forgiveness, and courtesy, even when aware of how the US misconstrued them as wrongdoers or criminals. 

However, all of the clients—regardless of language barriers, cultural differences, or brevity—spoke with the same humble dignity and respect, their tone fatigued, but never defeated. Engaging in such poignant conversations with clients resulted in constant emotional growth, as I strived to empathize with the detainees and offer the solace lacking in the immigration system. Despite the complexity of such an unforgiving system, the people I spoke with maintained hope, braving every undeserved difficulty to seek a better life.  

Often before ending their interviews with a blessing for the workers at Las Americas, the clients I spoke with disclosed pieces of wisdom I carry with me: 

  • “Venimos a sembrar semilla Buena a este país” (We have come to plant a virtuous seed in this country) 
  • “Love recognizes no religion or color” 
  • “En ninguna carcel, ni de oro, alguien se va a sentir bien” (In no prison, not even one of gold, will someone feel good) 
  • “La vida es bonita, nadamás es saberla vivir. Por uno no viene para molestar” (Life is beautiful, if only you know how to live it. That is why one does not come to this country just to be a bother.) 

As I prepare to spend Christmas with my family knowing the clients I spoke with may not obtain the same opportunity, I think of the lessons working at Las Americas has instilled in me thus far, remembering to hold steadfast to faith and hope and look forward, but also sideways to our fellow neighbors. I now move forward with the intent of treating everyone benevolently and finding ways to alter the immigration system for the better, seeking the noble work hidden within the niches of my community. 

Traveling

By Shun

In the past few weeks, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s important to do what you want to do when you want to do it. 

In the weeks prior, I was overwhelmed with work and the tasks before me that I lost track of living and treasuring each day given to me. During the busy times of developing a mobile application, starting an English project for the Japanese community, and interning, getting through the day had become my end goal, and before I knew it, there were only three months left in my gap year. 

Of course, three months is still a lot of time, and I am just as excited to start my time at Duke, as I am living in Japan on this gap year, but part of me started to fear the what-ifs. What if I feel like I didn’t do enough on my gap year? What if end up not being able to do something I could’ve done? What if I reflect on my gap year and think, I should’ve done this, I should’ve done that instead of feeling satisfied with my year? 

Rather than thinking about the what-ifs now, I decided to prioritize taking time to do the things I want to do now: the things I can’t do in the United States and without the time I currently have. One of those things was traveling. With the added hurdle of COVID-19, it was difficult to take extended trips to remote areas, but with the number of cases having gone down significantly in Japan after the New Year, I took my mask and backpack and headed off. 

I first started by taking a brief trip back to the United States. This trip was mostly to conduct trials of the mobile application I had been developing in Japan, but it was nice to be home and spend time with my family for the first time in 6 months. After enjoying many home-cooked meals, time with my dog, and feeling refreshed for the second half of my year, I headed back to Japan. 

In retrospect, this short trip back to the US was important in resetting the new “normal” that had become living in Japan. I was able to appreciate spending time here more and found many things I wanted to do before the year was over. 

My first trip in Japan was two days in Osaka on the West side of Japan. I decided to go on this trip about three days before I went, as I found tickets for The National High School Baseball Championship. The National High School Baseball Championship is held twice a year in the spring and summer, and it is one of the most-watched sports events in Japan. I was very excited to get an opportunity to attend, as it was my first time going to the spring tournament, and the tournament last summer was canceled due to COVID-19. Watching the players chasing their dreams under the hot sun and brisk wind, was a fresh reminder of myself just a few months ago. Revitalized and motivated, I returned to Tokyo.

 

My next trip was to the bottom part of Japan, where I visited Hiroshima, Oita, and Fukuoka prefectures. A friend and I took a plane down and only used trains to travel between the prefectures. Although we were still in Japan, life seemed much slower there, especially in Oita. Trains only came once an hour (they typically come once every few minutes in Tokyo), and the climate was slightly milder, making it a nice escape from the hustle of everyday life. Walking along farmland and homes in remote areas of Japan, seeing and experiencing things I had never done before but knew I’d likely never do again, I felt happy and refreshed. 

 

 

Looking back on the past month, I feel that it has been one of the most enjoyable of my gap year so far. Being able to take a trip across the country whenever you “feel like it” and experience things unbelievably different from your everyday life is a benefit of the gap year I never want to give away. I have a few more trips planned for next month, so I am looking forward to wherever those trips take me next. 

Surf Class

By Matthew

As I embarked on my Duke Gap Year I promised myself that I would try to learn something and grow as a person from each every experience I chose to undertake, and I have definitely kept true to that goal.  Living for two months in Puerto Pilon, Costa Rica, offered unique and spectacular opportunities to follow through on my education through exploration but I learned even more than hoped on this incredible journey.
 
I was able to explore the surrounding ecosystem with the CR nature guide found in the book box in our bungalow.  I worked on my Spanish the entire time but with laser-like focus while ordering food, and I even learned that 30 spf sunscreen does little to protect my skin. Believe it or not though, with all the amazing things to learn from during my time in that small town, the most beneficial classroom was the water.  It was almost like I was in my own covid cohort and my surf curriculum included Physical Education, Geography, Science and Accelerated Spanish all in one beautiful setting. 
Spanish in the surf line up was a core class and one of my favorite subjects. The learning environment was different from high school, and contrary to the peaceful classroom a good bit of my learning was done through loud exclamations and conversations whilst being pounded on the inside by a surprise set of waves. I would learn a lot of explicit phrases from interactions with the locals, but I would also learn about descriptors of waves, drama between friends, tales of the work day, and even how to defend myself from angry Frenchmen (who curiously also spoke Spanish).  Between sets though, I was able to practice telling people about myself, my home, and what brought me to this small town, along with asking and learning about other people’s lives and families. Everything I learned about the surrounding area also came from my conversations in the surf. With the overlap between Spanish and geography I learned about the Osa, wildlife sanctuaries, other surf breaks, and empanada spots for our return trip up north. Google Translate consisted of hand signals. My vocabulary grew immensely through the basic actions that accompanied new words.  I learned how to say alligator and crocodile as lifesaving advice as to which rivers we could swim in and which to avoid. This may seem like a very unorthodox way of practicing a new language but I would take doing so on one of the best surf breaks in the world over an online zoom or classroom any day of the week.
 
The Pacific Ocean also provided research topics for Science class. After every surf session I would come back with a new animal or phenomena I needed to learn more about. After being stung several days in a row by something called Hilo de Oro, I decided to do some research and ask around about it. After talking with several locals I realized I was lucky that I barely reacted to this jelly fish, where they came from and how common they were. My learning regimen continued with tides, currents, turtles, flying fish (who knew those things were real!), dolphin surfing the waves alongside me, and where the incredible shells came from.  I also decided to look into bioluminescence after one of our early morning surf sessions in complete darkness, where each turn and paddle stroke was marked by a ripples of blue water. That incredible morning was one of the coolest moments ever, and gave way to an appreciation of one of the most amazing and beautiful events in nature. It was special knowing that nearly every event in the world is captured on camera these days and shared with the world, and yet these moments were experienced by me, my three friends.  I wouldn’t necessarily say I could skip college level science classes based on this experience, but it sure would be tempting.
 
Everything I learned from the simple activity of surfing embodied the idea that with the right curiosity and mindset you can learn quite a lot from just a little. I expect the classrooms at Duke to look a little different but I plan on bringing that same inquisitiveness and thirst for knowledge that I did every day to the Selea surf break.

The Israeli-Jewish Springtime Trifecta

By Abby

Every year around springtime Jews worldwide, and especially in Israel, celebrate three days: Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day), Yom Hazikaron (Remembrance Day for Fallen Soldiers and Casualties of Terrorist Attacks), and Yom Ha’azmaout (Independence Day).
Yom Hashoah is a really powerful day at home as well as here in Israel. At home, my school would bring in a Holocaust survivor or a survivor’s family member to tell us his or her story, and we would stand for a minute-long siren played on the school loudspeaker. Here, one of my friends’ grandfathers told his story, and we stood for the siren that was blasted over the country-wide loudspeaker. In Israel, everything stops during the siren: all meetings, TVbroadcasts, vehicles on the streets and highways stop and everyone stands.
Six days later was Yom Hazikaron. I didn’t have the highest of expectations because, at home, the ceremonies we had at school were always contrived and lacking immediacy. It began with an 8:00 pm country-wide siren — in the Jewish calendar days start and end at nightfall not at midnight — followed by a ceremony. We sat in a circle on the floor, and anyone who knew of a fallen soldier or a casualty of a terrorist attack told their story and a song was sung and a candle lit in their honor. We sat there for 4 hours because around 25 out of 70 had stories to tell about family friends, neighbors, cousins, cousins’ friends…The stories made me sad, the songs made me weep, and the number of stories made me feel guilty. As a Jew, Israel belongs to me just as much as it does to any native-born Israeli. But can I just sit happily in America and come to Israel whenever I want while Israelis die left and right? What kind of a Zionist am I, choosing to go to Duke over serving in the IDF (Israeli DefenseForces)?
The next day I woke up early and took the bus to Har Herzl (Israeli National Cemetery) with some friends for the 11:00 am nationwide siren. Families of fallen soldiers, current soldiers, and people like me who wanted to pay their respects properly were huddled around all the graves. You can’t get more immediate than standing at the foot of a grave of a fallen soldier.
That evening, I attended a tekes ma’avar (transitional ceremony) marking the end of YomHazikaron and the start of Yom Haatzmaut. It began with some slow songs and then we raised the Israeli flag, symbolizing the rising of spirits. I performed in a dance with a boy from the neighborhood whom I mentor. Then I attended a Hallel service, a prayer of praise sung on specific celebratory days. Later that night my friends and I went to center city. Usually, there are a bunch of free concerts in the middle of Jerusalem that you can go to, but because of Corona you had to reserve tickets; while we didn’t score tickets to the hottest concerts, we went to a cover band concert of Israeli classics. I was happily surprised that I knew most of the songs and had a great time singing and dancing. We spent the rest of the night enjoying the festive atmosphere of the city (think Time Square NYE). I got a couple hours of sleep and then went to two friends’ family BBQs. The meat was incredible and let’s just say my stomach was both satisfied and furious at me.
Yom Haatzmaut was a thrilling 24 hours, but, in general, I don’t think it quite reached its potential – a sentiment a lot of my Israeli friends agreed with. The day had a joyous celebratory atmosphere of eating, singing, drinking, and dancing with family and friends, but I think the presumed pride got lost in the desire to enjoy the celebrations.
These three days galvanized my inner Zionism, and I have a lot of thinking to do about how these feelings fit in with the rest of my life and values. I wish I could elaborate more on this last sentence, but I’m not yet at that stage. I can tell you, however, that I am ecstatic about attending Duke in the meantime and learning about the many facets, wonders, and challenges of America.

Post by Sara

by Sara

The past few weeks have been full of excitement at my house, as I am making my final preparations before heading off to New Hampshire for the next few months. I leave for Marlborough in less than two weeks now, and I am so excited to finally arrive! In case you haven’t seen my previous posts, which you should definitely check out, by the way, I’m heading north for a program called Gap at Glen Brook, a place-based gap year program that focuses on personal growth through a variety of experiences, including engagement with nature, building practical skills, and more.

Since October, I’ve been preparing myself in a lot of ways for this experience, which will be like nothing I’ve done before. I’ve never been away from home for so long before, never seen more than an inch of snow before, and certainly never canoed to another state before. That being said, I knew what I had signed up for when I decided to attend Glen Brook, and these “never-befores” are, at least for now, more exciting than nerve-wracking for me. In order to prepare to the best of my ability, I’ve had to do a great deal of learning about surviving New England winters, including everything from base layers to fleece hats to sleeping bags rated to 15°F.

There are also, of course, a lot of covid related procedures to follow in the lead up to arrival, and yesterday was the start of my two-week quarantine. Every day, I record my temperature, symptoms, and notes for the day to be turned in upon arrival, and I am limiting outside excursions to only the essential. I will also be getting another covid test next week, as will the other participants. Once we all arrive at Glen Brook, we will continue to social distance and wear masks for two weeks, and if no symptoms are shown, we will then transition into a domestic unit.

My next post will be written from New Hampshire, and I can’t wait to share more about the experience. Also, if you are curious about the program, check out their website: https://www.gapatglenbrook.org/.

Out on the Trail

by Leah

We’ve reached the height of the season for dog sledding trips, and are now going out on an overnight trip about once a week. Just yesterday we got back from a three-day trip–we spent two nights at our established winter campsite, with five of us staff members, five clients, and 20 dogs.
A trip like this takes a lot of work. Preparation began a few days in advance, with me packing out all of the food we would need. The day after all of the food was organized, I went with one of my bosses to drag the food into our campsite by snowmobile and to move dog sleds to the trailhead.
That evening, our five clients arrived–we settled them into our guest lodge, outfitted them with all of the warm clothes they would need, and told them to be ready to go at 8:30 in the morning.
The next day we fed the dogs at 6:30 in the morning, then all of us staff ate a quick breakfast together and got moving: backpacks and skis and snowshoes and ropes and all sorts of extra equipment and parts had to be loaded into the trucks, and then the dogs were loaded, and we were off, driving to the trailhead.
Once we’re at the trailhead, the dogs stay in the truck until the last minute. They’re always ready and raring to go, so as soon as they’re hooked up to the sleds you have to leave right away or else they’ll get frustrated. But there’s plenty of stuff that has to happen before the dogs can get hooked up: our ski guide set off with two of the clients (they need an early start since they can’t move as fast as the dog team), and the lines on the dog sleds were all laid out and prepared, and the qomatik was loaded with anything that there wasn’t room for in the three sleds, and then the qomatik was attached to the snowmobile by a tow bar, and finally we started unloading dogs from the truck. We divided the 20 dogs into three teams: an eight-dog team and two six-dog teams, each with a staff member mushing and a client inside the sled. Me and my fellow apprentice took turns mushing the last team and driving the snowmobile, which follows behind the last dog team. And we set off, winding down our trail onto the lake, and then into a cove where our campsite is.
The campsite has several canvas wall tents that we leave erected all winter. Each tent has a bough floor and a wood stove. As soon as we got to camp, half of us tied the dogs up in camp and gave each one of them a bed of hay while the other half went out onto the lake with an ice chisel and a sled full of empty pots to collect water.

   

Once the dogs were all watered and the sleds and qomatik unpacked, we ate lunch together out on the ice. After that there were chores to be done: finding firewood and bringing it back to camp, and cutting up meat for the dogs, and fetching and boiling more water as needed, and collecting boughs to add to the tents, and chopping wood, and keeping stoves running, and finally making dinner. After dinner we did the dishes, and then we went down onto the lake for my favorite part of every overnight trip: the campfire.
In a normal year, guests and staff would all eat together in the largest tent (the cook tent), passing around food, telling stories, getting to know each other. But with covid, we can’t all be in one tent together–we have to eat separately. So every night, we make a campfire out on the lake. That’s where storytelling and socializing happens this year.
The wind blows jets of smoke and sparks, causing us to engage in a perpetual dance around the fire as its direction changes. On this night, the stars were the best I’ve seen them here–they reminded me of my trip to Big Bend this fall; they were almost as bright.
Thanks to the nature of the service that we provide and our rigorous safety policies, we have been able to keep taking folks on these amazing trips, even while covid is still an incredibly dangerous threat to many people, businesses, and communities. It’s a pleasure to get to spend time meeting new people after months of isolation, and it’s so much fun to watch them experience the wonder of the dogs and the outdoors, and incredibly rewarding to know that I helped facilitate that experience.
I’ll be here for about two more months–I’m so excited to spend more time with the dogs, and with amazing people out on the trail.

Gratitude in the Q

By Sammy

Two weeks in a tiny room, shared with three other people.

Feel free to leave the room, as long as you are okay with losing $30,000 and being kicked off the program, deported, and banned from coming back to Israel for the next ten years. Someone from another program left the room to try and fix the Wi-Fi router and suffered the consequences, so we haven’t really tried bending the rules. At least we have a gorgeous view.

 While strict and relentless, these are the measures Israel has to impose in order to accept more than 16,000 Americans into their country amid the pandemic. While I’m upset that I cannot explore the streets of Jerusalem and meet others on the program, I understand the restrictions. So where does that leave me? With time. Lots and lots of time. During the year, I can never get enough free time. I’m constantly busy and want more time to relax. Now, I have an abundance of it. At first, I was bored and bitter. But then I realized what a valuable gift I was given. I had two entire weeks to sleep, relax, workout, read, catch up with friends (when the calls went through), write, converse, and learn Hebrew. This may seem like the most mundane schedule ever; however, after realizing how rare it is to have time without responsibility to school or a job, I started to appreciate the surplus of relaxing time instead of resenting it. And in doing so, the two weeks have somehow shot by. I know, two weeks in severely strict quarantine should have been the longest two weeks of my life, but they have somehow been a blur.

A mindset of gratitude truly allows you to live in the moment, enjoying the situation before yourself despite the circumstances. Since I found a way to be grateful for the two-week, no-nonsense confinement, I don’t think it’ll be hard to find ways to be grateful for every other aspect of the trip, starting with the country-wide three-week lockdown, which starts the day after quarantine is over. Once we are done with quarantine, we’ll be confined to the campus for the following three weeks due to the lockdown. However, following the quarantine, the three weeks of freedom to go anywhere on the small campus will seem incredible. Gratitude, I think, is one of the most underrated of emotions. There have been spells where I am constantly regretting the past and/or dreading the future, ignoring what’s before me. During those times, I find myself to be much less happy, as I’m completely missing the present. Without gratitude for the “NOW,” you miss out on your life. Gratitude is maybe the most important key to fulfillment and happiness. When people are sincerely grateful for what’s before them, they can be happy. Kohelet, one of the fabled Jewish scholars, debates the meaning of life. He constantly goes back to the notion that all is futile and finite, explaining that all you can truly do is be grateful and enjoy the pleasures of life.

Yet gratitude is also situational, elusive, and often difficult to achieve. An American may leave for the day, grabbing a can of soda, and be on his way. Yet an African who never tasted a pop drink in his life could grab the same can of soda with an immense amount of gratitude. The more you have, the harder it is to be grateful for the same things. By looking at the world and life as a whole, I have been able to find gratitude for the “NOW.” It can be hard to notice the simple pleasures of life that not everyone enjoys, such as friends, a healthy body, even glasses. Rather than look at the specific circumstances of a situation in regards to my life, I try to find something special that anyone could be grateful for, even in the seemingly “less desirable” situations. Even a two week quarantine can be seen as a blessing.

Getting Ready To Leave

By Hannah

I was always the kid who would stay up all night before any kind of trip. Whether a field trip with my school or a family vacation, the idea of going somewhere has always excited me. This time around, it’s more than one night of excitement. Considering what the world and my life have looked like since March, I can’t begin to express how much I look forward to stepping on a plane in 7 short days.  

In exactly a week, I will be making my way—mask and negative COVID test in hand—to spend two months exploring Hawaii, Oregon, and California. I will be camping the whole time, living with 12 others from around the country. We will be spending two weeks in quarantine on a macadamia nut farm before exploring the Big Island, getting a scuba diving certification, hiking, surfing, volunteering, and more. Then we will make our way to Oregon where we will visit national parks, take a Wilderness First Responder course, and work with many different organizations as we make our way down the coast before ending in Los Angeles.  

While the itinerary makes the trip enticing, the part I am most excited about is that I will be doing it all with a completely new group of peers. It’s been hard saying goodbye to my friends from high school and watching them as they head off to college and meet new people, so I’m looking forward to doing the same. At the same time, this is also the part I am most nervous about. Going into this not knowing anybody feels like a bit of a leap of faith, though I have no doubt it will pay off.  

 

 While I spend this last week at home balancing the conflicting emotions and the struggle of packing my tent, sleeping bag, snorkel, and everything else into one duffel bag (the picture shows a fraction of what will need to fit), I still feel those same night-before-trip-jitters. I can’t wait to embark on this journey and am really grateful to have the opportunity to do so!