Am I really leaving in a week?

Bahh! I’m back in Tallinn. All eyes are on you, friends. Well actually your eyes should be on me.

So much has happened since I left for summer camp in Lithuania almost 2 months ago – all good things too.

First of all, camp was magical: Being able to play sports every day with 200 kids who speak 3 languages was probably one of the coolest things I’ve done all year.

You want to know something though? When I appointed myself as Sports Director, the staff said it might be “weird” for the kids because I’m a girl. I smirked and simply stated, “just wait.”

They didn’t have to wait. In less than a few hours on the first day of camp, I had kids coming to the courts after breakfast, before lunch, after lunch, during ‘rest time’, and even begging me to come to the lake and bring a ball or two with me. I’m not questioning whether they wanted me or the balls – you shouldn’t either.

“Jennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn”, they would scream… “futbol?”

“Davai!” or “Let’s go!”, I would say – probably more excited than them.

“Jennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn”, they would scream, “I love you!”

“I love you too!”, I would say – without an ounce of hesitation.

“Jennnnnnnnnnnnnnnn”, they would scream, “say “One Direction!””

“One Direction!” I would scream – they loved my American accent.

I perfected the words “adin bolshoe kruk” or “one big circle” and “dati myatch” or “give me the ball” in no time; some of the kids reminded me of my very own campers I had a while back, and some reminded me of my closest friends I had growing up.

At the end of the session during the closing ceremony, the camp director called out my name – I sprinted to the stage, but froze for a few seconds when I heard, “Jen, Jen, Jen, Jen, Jen, Jen!” 200 kids chanting my name. I took a mental video, completely overwhelmed by the love from these special kiddos.

It’s hard sometimes to see the impact you make, and this was my gift – probably the best gift I could ask for. And now after 2 sessions of camp, I have 400 new Facebook friends and continued positive, fluffy feelings about my year as a JSC Fellow in the Baltics.

Camp reminded me why I went for 15 years in the first place – it’s the ultimate therapy, the best getaway there is. You become completely consumed with being in the moment – not worrying about a single thing back home or 15 miles up the road, your role is to entertain kids (coolest job ever), sing really loudly, dance your feet off, and write cool blog posts like this one:

http://jdcentwine.org/blog/946

Beyond that, the kids were so inspiring: Their youth, their energy, their unjaded perception of the world and their inherent trust in people, their lack of inhibition. When they want something, they go for it. We should all be so brave throughout our entire lifetime.

This is me VERY happy to share Estonia with my new American friends.

Immediately following camp, I staffed a week-long trip through the Baltics with 21 teens from 7 countries. 10 of which came from America, 2 from Bulgaria, 2 from Poland, 2 from Estonia, 3 from Latvia, and 2 from Lithuania. You could say my job there was to keep ALL of the kids connected – continually drawing the kids from Europe to the kids from America together, pushing each one to have a real conversation with someone different. Burning bridges, debunking stereotypes. What did I learn? Oh, good question: I learned that Americans are really loud. And Europeans are… just really cool. Sometimes too cool.

We saw reviving Jewish life in each capital city, meeting with dedicated teen leaders and community lay leaders; we saw memorials near mass graves where 70,000 Jews fell victim; we talked about Jewish identity, community responsibility and philanthropic ideologies. We tried to wrap our heads around the atrocities that happened in these areas during the holocaust, we cried, we lit candles, we sang prayers and read people’s stories. We hugged, we laughed, we talked about life and our favorite things. This was the BEST final tour through a region of the world I have called ‘home’ for the past year. To spend a week with Americans and Europeans in the Baltics was that “collision of 2 worlds”, and could not have come at a better time – exactly one week until I depart for the land of red, white, and blue.

I am also ecstatic to share that I’ll be continuing my journey with JDC Entwine in New York. I found out while I was on the trip, and this was my face upon receiving the email:

This face also needs to find an apartment in NYC – so if you have any information! I’m all ears – like really all ears, I’ll stop talking now.

Not.

1 week left in this INCREDIBLE year-long LIFE changing experience. I have made some of the best friends I could ever ask for in 3 countries, and I cannot wait to take that home with me – the friendships, the conversations, the laughs, and a few (cough) goodbye tears. I’ll be an emotional mess this week, but don’t let that fool you: I am so excited for my new job, in a new city, starting a new chapter that was 100% influenced by the beautiful chapter I’ve written here.

WARNING: This won’t be the final post, so don’t cry. Be on the lookout for the final words of Jenstonia once I land in New York and begin a new blog. Yes, that’s right, new blog! *blog name suggestions wanted*!

NewYorkStonia maybe? Think about it…think about it.

To the Baltics,

Jenstonia – Am I really leaving in a week?

Soul Shaking – the 2013 BBYO International Convention in DC

Woof it’s been a while – thankfully, I found some time between Purim parties.

(Sidenote: Can’t believe I just said that) Anywho, while I’m here and you’re there and I have you if only for a few minutes…let’s do this.

There’s a great possibility I could have just returned home (Estonia) from one of the most deeply rewarding experiences of my young adulthood. Enriching, meaningful, impactful, whatever — there aren’t powerful enough adjectives that can describe every millimeter of your soul being shaken.

I traveled to D.C. for BBYO’s 2013 International Convention with 4 teens [2 from Estonia, 2 from Latvia] and 1 additional advisor [from Estonia]. This was their first trip to America.

Before leaving, I received phone calls, emails, or texts from teens saying, “Are you serious? Am I really going to America?” or “This has always been a dream of mine” or “I’m in shock. This can’t be real.”

You can imagine how this chilled every fiber of my being. I knew being able to experience this once-in-a-lifetime trip with them (and return to the Baltic’s) would not only cause me to break down in tears every minute, but be an extraordinary highlight of all of our lives together. To be able to return home with them and continue the conversations and reflect on the memories is a double blessing. To have a soul-shaking, immersive experience, and come home to let it wash away in the suds of your everyday, routine life at home is a shame. It was my goal from the very beginning to never let the post-BBYO convention spirit dwindle.

And so we departed for America.

  

Into the wind or “hambe kahle” as my Zulu-speaking friends and family say. We arrived with all passports and checked luggage intact, and were welcomed by a swarm of 40 teens from all over the world; more importantly, I had a Skinny Vanilla Latte from Starbucks waiting for me. *Gulp*, 5 months too long.

Next thing I know I’m in an 8-person SUV with luggage stacked to the brim, 3 teenage girls from Argentina, 2 from Bulgaria, 1 JDC Fellow based in Ukraine in the passenger seat, 1 past JDC Fellow who was based in Latvia in the driver’s seat, and me. I proactively demand no jet-lagged Russian speaking in the car; I hug my Starbucks and listen to the sounds of international snoring fill the car on the 4-hour drive to Baltimore.

I feel the burbs and a JCC coming closer when I see the following commercial developments: David’s Deli, some non-chain Laundromat, Best Buy, Fro Yo, Target, Chipotle, 4 Starbucks, need I say more? I am really back in America. Oh. My. Development.

A very surreal feeling to jump back into the Suburbs of America, but I will say there is an unspoken comfort when walking into a JCC. Normally, I’m a tip-toer and hypersensitive to other people’s spaces and time, but I ran into the Baltimore JCC like it was the Dallas JCC [aka my second home].

The kids got cozy with their host families and adapted quickly to their slice of American life. Facebook posts and messages confirmed they were overly satiated mentally, socially, and digestively.

 

I could not wait to be sucked into BBYO convention-life; 1 week of 150 staff, 1600 teens, 52 international teens, thought-provoking speakers (meh, like Obama), cheering, panel discussions, deep conversations, the feeling of togetherness, and every day with Jewish elements scattered throughout. There are few things in this world that I value more than learning; so when it comes to seminars and conventions created for the sole purpose of expanding knowledge, I am a truly the science geek in the Natural History Museum. What can I say, it’s my ‘jam’. 

I reunited with many; fellow JDC Entwine Global Service Corps Fellows, co-counselors and campers from Camp Sabra, familiar faces from Dallas, people who’ve stumbled upon this blog, and so many more. One of the most gratifying things for me was to be a part of the International Delegation; while I could have easily been pulled toward Dallas-folk or even the Midwest, I felt such a strong sense of responsibility to be with the international staff and teens as much as possible. I was that kid 10 years ago completely infatuated with international delegates at conventions – to be a part of it was a dream come true. Really, it just showed me if I made the world my priority, the world would gracefully open itself up and let me be a part of it in some special way. This was special.

While there were truly incredible and inspiring moments, like… I don’t know… 52 International teens getting initiated into BBYO, the Hatikvah (Israeli national anthem) when more than 15 Israeli delegates hopped on stage, Nancy Carr’s speech, Obama’s speech, Susan Rice’s speech, I’ve gotta say one moment hit me the most:

Preface: I really pushed my kids to go to services on Friday night (Chabad is the only option in Estonia)

• I asked one of my kiddos on Saturday morning: “So, how were services last night?”
• Her response: “IT WAS SO COOL!”
• I had to step away for a moment and gather my heart that just spilled out of my chest. For a teenager to say that a Friday night service was “cool”… Hello!!!!!
• She continued, “I didn’t think services could be so fun! With songs and everything… At home it’s so hard to understand”

I knew this time in America would show them a world of Jewish pluralism; options, flexibility, engaging ways to connect to religion – I can’t imagine how deeply this peeked their curiosity to connect to the more traditional aspects of religion that really are just, as she put it, “hard”.

The rest of the convention was everything I wanted it to be: boisterous cheering under sleep deprivation, long nights of absolute absurd goofiness between staff, teens being completely independent (after the first day of awkwardness and clinging) and making friends from around the world, epiphanies, realizations, passion for the Jewish future, motivation for next year.

I’m back in Estonia only for a few days to catch some of the highest quality air (it’s true – #1 in the world), do Purim, make sure everyone remembers my face, and have some cool working conversations.

Off to Israel for a seminar with all the JDC Fellows (YAYY seminars) and then 3 days of Mediterranean vacation in Greece and Turkey! This year aint bad kids, it aint bad.

Hasta la pasta! Missed you all and talk soon after I’m all tanned and Greek-looking.

Jenstonia – #azabbgic2013

I don’t shop. I don’t cook.

And shopping at the market in order to cook fuels me with more anxiety than belaying naked from Mt. Kilimanjaro.

I know I looked completely stoic and unbothered on the outside, but on the inside my organs were feverishly dancing. I wore my long, winter coat (with fur around the hood), mall-walking shoes, and my hair tied back to prevent myself from ripping it the f**k out. In my ears was Disney music “in the circleeee, the circle of life…” – the carefree, innocuous melody helps calm my nausea as I lethargically float through the market aisles.

 

You think I’m being overdramatic, don’t you? Good! Because I also think this is completely absurd. But there’s good news, so read on.

The Menu:

The 5 Day Prep:

I started on Sunday. In advance to help subside the stress. The method of attack was to find ingredients most familiar to me and most universal in physical features and Latin roots. On Sunday I purchased pineapples (how could they really be confused with another piece of produce?) and vodka.

I also allowed myself to take advantage of my time at the market and walk through the aisles with ZERO pressure to cross ingredients off my list. This was merely a desensitizing (and learning) opportunity.

And in no time:  tears came trickling down my face, steam blew out of my ears, and I clenched my jaw so tight my teeth shattered. No, just kidding, my teeth are still intact. These emotions are completely normal for me in markets in the states (even the ones I’m most familiar with – this includes Whole Foods), so with the addition of the Estonian language that includes about… -8 (negative 8) Latin Roots, you can imagine how this challenged my antiperspirant.

Thankfully I was rewarded immediately after with my favorite meal (penne pasta + 10kg of parmesan cheese) and a showing of The Lion King in 3D at a friend’s. Talk about positive reinforcement, B.F. Skinner.

Tough day, I know.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday:

Yep, they all happened. In that order.

The good news, however: By Thursday, I totally made the market my Witch. Except replace the ‘W’ with a ‘B’. Keep the ‘B’ a capital one.

I also now know the following ingredients are rare and difficult to find here:

• celery
• graham crackers
• egg noodles
• candy corn
• white marshmallows that aren’t in the shape of Angry Bird’s or Daisies
• cranberries
• disposable cooking pans

One can say I got “creative” in the kitchen. Never will One say that about me again, methinks.

If you cut toffee into triangles it can do a candy-corn’s job; serve as the nose to truffle+waffle baby turkey’s. Duh.

If you can’t find disposable cooking pans because you only have 3 oven-safe dishes in your apartment, you can use the top to your Pyrex dishes. They’re shallower, of course, but they do the trick.

When in doubt, buy a nice block of cheese, kalamata olives, nuts, and some decent bread. If all the other food fails, they will save Thanksgiving (or any other celebration involving food). Don’t forget the booze.

Thanksgiving Day:

Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite day of the year. Wings down. It’s one of the few times I enjoy being in Dallas – as terrible as that sounds. Eek, don’t hate me Dallas folk.

At home, Thanksgiving begins at 6:00am on the last Thursday of November and doesn’t end until the weekend is over. Slices of tradition permeate the entire day on Thursday. The first piece is the Turkey Trot Run in Downtown Dallas (my dad and I would get there first thing in the morning to get the same parking spot every year), the next piece is going to my old neighborhood to play touch football with friends and family, onward to watch (and smell) mom finish cooking, and leaving home for multiple feasts with multiple groups. The final feast involving liter’s of pineapple vodka, friends I’ve known since I was in diapers, and acting like I’m interested in The Cowboy’s game. And still, year after year, I don’t know the rules of football or my blood alcohol content.

I had never missed a Thanksgiving in Dallas until this year. Before I left for Estonia I was determined to offset my potential Thanksgiving separation anxiety with a day full of amusement ; amusement in the form of cooking more than eggs, pasta, oatmeal, and placing cheese symmetrically on a plate.

And this is how it turned out:

Nobody got sick.

The turkey was a bit dry, but dry turkey calls for fresh cranberry sauce – and that’s exactly what it got.

And we ate the pineapple infused with vodka.

And we watched the Thanksgiving episode of Friends with Brad Pitt. In Russian. (Even though they wanted English).

And we did all the things I would normally do minus a few minor exceptions, but most importantly, I am so happy I had people to share my favorite holiday with. Good friends.

“Well, how do you feel?” a friend asked after everyone left my flat stuffed and energy-less. I slammed my body onto the couch; limbs sprawled in every cardinal direction – desperately wanting someone to put me into maternity pants.

“Shocked”, I replied starry-eyed and confused.

“You should be proud of yourself” he said, also being a 2-month victim of my minimal cooking abilities.

Before this week, I had trouble confidently cracking an egg yet alone dry brining and roasting a Turkey. I have grown (in more ways than one) from this experience, but not enough to continue this cooking spree. After all, I am my mother’s daughter and my aunt’s niece; neither of which cook, so I am obligated to continue this tradition regardless of what holiday changes my ways.

Santa is coming to town:

And we all know that once Thanksgiving is over, Christmas begins! Hip hip hooray!

I watched Elf, I went to the Xmas market in the Old Town, I drank warm, spiced wine (Glogg) with friends, played Scrabble in Estonian and multiple games of Janga, and I skipped around town and listened to Mariah Carey’s Christmas album. I love Christmas. And guess what?

THE HIGH IS NEGATIVE 5 ON FRIDAY. IT’S SUPPOSED TO SNOW TOMORROW!

‘Tis the season to be jolly,

Jenstonia – fa la la la la, la la la laaaaaaaaa

P.S. I also successfully delivered a sweet spudnik.

Bill Self for President

I’m not one for “politics”, but I am one for democracy.

By “politics”, I mean the kind where discourse becomes extremist and too intense for an actual enlightening discussion.

I might not be one for “politics”, but I am one for sitting on the edge of my seat, watching the results after a country speaks their voice in votes. Actually, quick side note, I adore my FB newsfeed this time of year when friends scream “vote or die”, “Roseanne Barr”, or “Vote Bill Self (KU Basketball coach) for president”. The spirit tickles me.

I said in a previous post that I’ve always been a lover of “words”; but I’m saying in this post, I can also see past them.

I see through rhetoric. I see through jargon. I see through speech making formulated strategically to elicit certain emotions and actions out of people. I know the majority of American’s are intelligent enough to do the same. (Yes, extremist Republican’s, you are just as emotional as extremist Democrat’s)

We have to know, as verbal beings, that speaking well does not necessarily correlate with running a country well.

We have to know.

We have to know that just because someone votes Republican does not mean their anti-abortion.

We have to know that just because someone votes Democrat does not mean their big government.

We have to know that voting Republican does not mean we go back to our Founding Father’s principles and stick to what our constitution said in the 18^th century.

We have to know that voting Democrat does not mean we forget our constitution and become a socialist country.

AND lastly, we must, must know that once the rhetoric is all said and done, for a president in the USA to be successful, they’ll most likely become moderate to appease the masses.

So, on my one and only semi-political post, go out and vote! I don’t care who for, just remember history has the unsurprising ability to repeat itself.

Rock the vote baby,

Jenstonia – yeah, I still don’t like “politics”