The End-Stonia.

Where am I? Where have I been? Where am I going? These questions keep smacking me in the face when I look up, open my eyes, and shake my head in total disbelief that I am where I am…and where I’ve been is in the past.

I was in Estonia 3 weeks ago. I was crying my not-so-tiny heart out on my friend’s shoulders in Latvia on August 23^rd. I was in Dallas with my mom, my family, and friends not even 2 weeks ago. And here I am, September 15^th, a week and half into living in New York, one week of work under my belt, and gearing up to leave for Washington D.C. for my first work-related trip tomorrow.

Where am I?

At a Starbucks in the Upper West Side.

But really: In some sort of whirlwind. That’s’ for sure. The thing is… I know who I am and what I’m doing more than ever…those two align seamlessly. And yet, the people surrounding me make it all feel like home. So when I look up at the tiny Spanish bodegas on my street corner in Brooklyn, or hear Russian whiz past me as I stroll through Central Park…it just all feels right. Like it was meant to be. Or rather, I made it be.

And I’ve gathered that I am where I am – not because of where I’ve been, but what I’ve done with where I’ve been, what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt.

I refuse to speak of Estonia in the past-tense, I’m not quite ready to let Estonia go back there. I’m holding onto it, trying to keep the memories active and buzzing – the people within arms-length. Or Skype-reach. I can’t, yet, dig deep into the year and all that it has meant to me – I want to sum it up and say “it’s meant everything”, but it filled certain holes, specific places that needed filling. Places that have made me more me. I am more me.

I feel good.

My heart literally tightens at the thought of the beautiful, giving, and fantastically special people in the Baltics. Thinking of them can turn a 45-minute subway ride into 5-minutes. And yes, hearing Russian in public spaces could not give me more joy than a CLIF bar and a vanilla latte. That’s big joy.

Getting messages from my kids saying, “We miss you”, “We love you”, “Our meeting was not the same without you” – Yeah, that kills me. These kids who are across the ocean, touching Russia, a ferry-ride from Finland, these kids think of me? They have to know how much I think of them – holding back my love for them was never an issue.

And these thoughts, these images hit me differently. Most times I’m sad knowing they’re so far away…other times, I’m just so happy and grateful we keep in touch with one another. And that I was able to experience the magical year I wanted so badly – so badly. And I got it. I made it mine, and here I am.

At a Starbucks in the Upper West Side.

One week of work under my belt. Not just any ordinary week of work; meaningful work. Work that intertwines with what I believe in right now, and what I wish to see in the world – with people who care, with people who are on the exact same page as me. That makes me feel good.

I’m on some sort of cloud. Not sure if it’s cloud-nine; but it’s a cloud a little higher than the Brooklyn bridge – I can see Estonia, I can see Brooklyn, I can see Manhattan. Dallas, you’re there too. My co-worker shared a “Jewish saying”, that sometimes your head can be where you are, but your soul might be slowly trailing behind, taking its’ time to catch up with your body. I believe that. It’s happening. Currently. Like, right now.

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My soul is taking its’ time, and I’m not going to push it to go any faster.

Oh, but I have so many good stories of my first week in Brooklyn and Manhattan! I think, what I’ll do, is create another blog by the name of…

www.brookjenyc.wordpress.com

Where I start a fresh chapter/page/blog roll, accounting my stories of living in a place that is unlike any other place I’ve lived in – I’m talking way more culture shock than Kansas AND Estonia combined. This should be good. This should be interesting.

 Thank you SO much for following me on JENSTONIA the past year! Your readership, commentary, and presence has meant so much to me – and it will continue to as I navigate my next journey in Brooklyn and Manhattan.

Love to all,

Jenstonia – forever Jenstonia

Seasonal Stimulation in Estonia

As I look beyond my living room window to the once totally barren trees, I see a different space than what I’ve grown used to; I see a forest of green and a bright blue sky that stays lit for all but four hours. A new season, a new chapter from the universe to differentiate spring from winter, spring from fall.

It is stunning here. I am constantly taken back to September, when I first arrived in Estonia, when the trees were flavored with a plethora of reds, yellows, and oranges; when it was all new and I was creating the first steps in the first chapter of my Estonia. I rewind a little further, all the time, of the days back in Dallas when I spent hours upon hours on Google maps (street view) – literally walking through the streets of Tallinn with my index finger on touch-screen glass  for days on end.

I had a massive map of Northern Europe sprawled out on my mother’s dining room table for months – she was thrilled! I studied the map, picturing my frizzy-haired self at a miniscule coordinate, wracking my brain to comprehend I was only kilometers away from mammoth Russia and genital-shaped Finland.

I now do the same in the real life – imagine myself as a tiny blue dot on a map, surrounded in people, places, cities, countries I never thought I would be so lucky to be so close to; the vision of my frizzy-haired self as a tiny speck on a map keeps me humbled, keeps me permanently pinched to remember where I am and how special it is that I’m here.

<– my frizzy and friends in Latvia

And that’s how I feel almost daily. The longer days and greener trees help, for sure. The last few weeks of winter I might not have felt so humbled to be in the presence of 6-month old ice and grey skies, but hey  – new season, new chapter right?

In the past month I’ve traveled to Budapest, Vienna, Prague, and Berlin. I spent a week total traveling from East to West, fascinated with everything these unique cities had to offer. I saw some incredible sights, met some interesting new people, reunited with old friends, and experienced what I could without a plan or expectation in sight. Due to the nature and focus of my year, I chose to focus on Jewish life in these cities; history, movements, growth, revival and renewal.

It was hard, really hard, to go to cities where Jewish life was vibrant before the war, walk through countless cemeteries, unused Synagogues, museums, and preserved artifacts. Berlin became my opportunity to catch a breath of Jewish renewal, ironically in a city that has some of the best displays of experiential and interpretive memorials I’ve ever witnessed.

The JSC Fellow in Berlin was my key to understanding current Jewish life; after pointing out Hitler’s underground barracks, which is adjacent to one of the Holocaust memorials, she took me to the Jewish Quarter. We roamed through streets displaying commemorative lines where the Berlin wall stood, into an area buzzing with life. Hebrew permeated the air, schwarma and falafel restaurants stood in plain sight – I felt like I was in a city that left zero remnants of its’ infamous division. This is exactly what I subconsciously hoped to see and feel in an area that was as close to the West as it was to the East. At least on the surface.

I felt proud to fly home, eastward to Estonia, to a space that has also jumped leaps and bounds from its’ previous Soviet domination. I was also surprised to finally walk on a ground completely free of ice and negative temperatures. Ayyyy-men.

The past few weeks have been a total thrill; work has been most productive and gratifying, the long days demand a boost in social life, and as each day quickly passes I find myself falling deeper in love with Tallinn. It’s a problem.  I’m addicted.

I’ve befriended my neighbor who is a pianist, Jazz lover, and king of cultural activities in Estonia. He’s shown me more Tallinn the past 3 weeks than I’ve seen the past 8 months. I’ve seen live Jazz, been to an abundance of underground bars, seen the best of Estonian design in ex Soviet factories, jumped on rooftops I never knew existed, and was this (___) close to hopping on a midnight train to Russia.  And somehow, unexpectedly, the first few pages of my spring chapter have been off to an exciting start!

But that’s not all: On late Thursday night, another American volunteer landed in Tallinn. He will be here for the next 40 days – working on projects with me, seeing the Baltics I’ve grown to love, and creating his own personal journey in this beautiful region of the world. I know for sure my life here will spice up exponentially having another volunteer by my side – and I’m so pumped to see how my days continue to twist and turn in this new season, new chapter.

On Friday, the teen leaders and I had our last Teen’s Program; the program was about Shavuot – so we decided to take a modern interpretation of the 10 commandments and create commandment-oriented scenes throughout the city. The teens got a map of Tallinn with X’s on them and had to perform challenges like “Chubby bunny (stuff your face) with marshmallows by the harbor” (from the commandment: Do not covet); or “Sneak a shopping cart out of the supermarket” (from the commandment: Do not steal); the program was a hit and we had more attendees than we’ve had the majority of the year – we got some great photos of the program, so enjoy them below!

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Wishing you all a happy start to the summer season!

Over and out,

Jenstonia – addicted to Estonia

Links to my travels:

Berlin, Germany: https://plus.google.com/photos/108399238466982579218/albums/5871669855200234561?authkey=CIKqm47r6YKDowE

Prague, CZ: https://plus.google.com/photos/108399238466982579218/albums/5871655133395175377?authkey=CKv2qKb138umTw

Vienna, Austria: https://plus.google.com/photos/108399238466982579218/albums/5871649900204317425?authkey=CMaa9IP2wrKEJg

Budapest, Hungary: https://plus.google.com/photos/108399238466982579218/albums/5871645307644315921?authkey=CMCPpYeH1dvNFg

The Power of Returning

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered” – Nelson Mandela, my South African homeboy.

I think of this phrase each time I return – to anywhere really. This time I was returning to Israel for the first time, meaning it was my second visit to the Land of Milk and Honey.

Last week, I went to Israel for the JDC JSC [Jewish Service Corps] Midyear seminar; all 25 fellows traveled from their placements (Buenos Aires, Haiti, Rwanda, etc.) and met in Jerusalem for 4-days of reflection, learning, and re-motivating for the last half of our placements – and all those things happened.

Before I go any further, you must know it’s absolutely abhorrent to believe it’s been 6 (or “midyear”) months since I’ve been in Estonia. Yeah, abhorrent, I said that. My next choice would have been heinous. I don’t even know what 6 months is supposed to feel like when jumping in and adapting to an entirely new country, new city, new working environment, new languages, new friends, etc. I will say, however, feeling-wise it seems as though I’ve been here for 6 years, work-wise, I’ve only just begun. Oh, 6 months, why don’t you come attached with a specific feeling?

Estonia still looks like this though —> 

Back to Israel: My first visit was with Birthright in 2010. I’m just gonna throw it out there: I had such high expectations (I now laugh at how high they were). Expectations to connect with the people, the land, my Judaism, and every last fiber of my being. Unrealistic much? Maybe this was the effect of 20+ years of “Israel Days” at camp, “Israel Weeks” at university, meeting sexy IDF soldiers, or repping the Israeli flag because that’s what everyone else did. I left Israel disconnected and disappointed, wondering why, if this country was the birthplace of Judaism and my people, did I not feel a part of it?

My return last week was my opportunity to feel something; expectations lowered, no over-thinking, no over-hoping or wishing that I get hit with a spark of spirit that subconsciously has me reciting Torah in perfect Hebrew as I walk through the Old City. I mean, who has that kind of vision anyway? (Answer: 20 year-old Jen)

Thurs, 28 Feb: I flew into Israel a few days before the seminar so I could run the Jerusalem Marathon (or 10k) with my friend and fellow JSC-er who lives in Jerusalem. I cab to meet my friend at the JDC-Israel office and we walk up the JLM hills to pick up our race packets at the Convention Center. (Pause)

Thought #1: I fly in by myself and meet my friend and fellow JSC fellow outside of the JDC-Israel Office.

Thought #2: In 2010, I had no idea what JDC was, and had it not been for JDC, I would have never met friend, which means I would have never run the Jerusalem Marathon or met friend outside of the JDC-Israel office. Man oh man, so much has changed since 2010.

Thought #3 and summation: I like the direction my life is going!

(Unpause)

We get our race packets in a sea of neon-colored booths: Saucony, Nike, Gatorade power gel, water bottles, nordic walking poles, t-shirts, t-shirts, and more t-shirts. Oh yeah, and the booths were in Hebrew.

Thought #1: Omg, I love tennis shoes.

Thought #2: Israel, you’re looking mighty good this trip.

We head back to a home-cooked and carb-filled dinner to prepare for the race in the morning.

The next scene you can find me fighting back tears as I run through the Old City with thousands of other runners, donkeys and goats on the mountain to my left, the sun beaming down us north-polers in desperate need of a tan, locals holding signs saying,“keep smiling, you’re almost done!”, and friend by my side up and down every bloody hill.

We finish the race together and gorge on hummus, pita, and pickles with other JSC-ers who ran and JSC-ers who came to cheer us on.

Hmmmm, I sigh, with my forming shin splints and broken hips, “I’m in Israel”.

I said this over and over again the rest of the week. I’m in Israel. And this time, I felt it.

That evening brought Shabbat dinner with other JSC-ers, bottles of wine open, and loud, tri-lingual conversations of our lives all over the world. “Yes, we’re the only white people in the village in Rwanda” or “Yes, I’ve never seen a non-white person in Estonia”. These exchanges were beautiful. 4 others speak Russian in the room, and I understand it … that would have never happened in 2010.

Sunday, 3 March: At last the seminar begins. The last time we were in the same room together was in August for orientation, and here we are, midyear, in Jerusalem. The symbolism off the charts.

We all sit in a large circle and smirk at one another, happy to be in the same room and in company of those who may be experiencing similar things and have a general shared sense of understanding the world in which we live.

4 days of introspection, reflection, reevaluating expectations, and setting new goals for ourselves. Each of us experiencing such vastly different things, but still able to connect and support one another. I often introspect introspection, and I can tell you the conversations that were taking place those 4 days in Jerusalem were nothing shy of brilliant. For some reason I choose to not analyze, the level of openness and comfort in vulnerability were things I had never seen in a group dynamic. Let’s be real, the process of moving to a new country and getting comfortable with new working environments definitely has some challenges.

I am a firm believer that being okay with feeling vulnerable leads to growth in directions we may not reach if we remain guarded and protected. Pride and control seem to be constants in that wall we love building. The vulnerability I witnessed in those 4 days led to empathy (not sympathy) and you could actually see that feeling of ‘alone’, in which many felt, slowly drifted away. The absence of alone brought new ideas and a support network to cheer-on those ideas. Just like that. 4 days.

Sidenote: If you’re interested in learning more about the power of vulnerability, I really recommend this TedTalk:

 

The fact that I was experiencing and witnessing these things in Jerusalem could not have been more meaningful to me. Powerful sessions in conference rooms during the day led to powerful conversations at dinner and bars at night. No matter how deeply we yearned to pound shots and get hammered together, we were too into learning about each other’s lives around the world to let any amount of alcohol drunken the conversations.

The end of my trip got me thinking about my connection to Israel. Everything I’ve learned or seen in the past have just been symbols of the state; the Hebrew language, IDF shirts, Israel flags, falafel, hummus, etc. For me, it takes positive, low-key experiences like running through Jerusalem, understanding how the city is spaced out, knowing where the local supermarket is, and drinking beers with friends who live here to feel connected. The second question is, why does it have to be more than that? Having these experiences fuels me with a desire to return and see my friends again, run the marathon in less time (get 4,000^th place instead of 6,000^th), or befriend those donkeys and goats I saw on the mountain. Getting a taste of real life in Israel and walking the streets with friends will get me back. Undoubtedly.

I haven’t said this to them yet, but I am so grateful to my friends and fellow JSC-ers for showing me the Jerusalem they know and love. Little did they know, but they were strengthening the connection to Israel that I’ve yearned for since I was little. There’s no question I will come back to further explore — I am finally connected. I wonder how Mandela’s quote will come into play the second time I return?

And then I went to Athens and Istanbul to get my tourist on! 1 day in each city meant walking 12 hours a day and LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF IT. Some photo’s below!

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Tomorrow I am off to “L’chaim”, or Estonia’s annual “Spring Camp”! I haven’t been to camp in 4 years, so yawl know how excited this girl is! J

To returning,

Jenstonia – campcounselorforever

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.

when two worlds collide.

It’s so hard not to smile when I walk into work.

Every day, I walk past the ONE Synagogue in Estonia, along the path that leads directly to the bright orange doors – the ones that guide me to the people who work tirelessly to keep the Estonian Jewish community vibrant.

Along the path I can see some of those people through their office windows; a wave hello from the outside keeps me smiling as I walk through the doors to the inside.

I step in, look to my left (where I can always find a cluster of people), and Russian greetings fall naturally from my lips.

• “Privyet, kak deela?” (Hello, how are you?)
• “Privyet, Jen, harisho, kak deela?” (Hello, Jen, good, how are you?)
• “Atleechna, spasiba” (Great, thank you!)

And today I entered the building the exact same way – except this time I had been gone for a week. I was happily, yet urgently led to The Maker of All Beautiful Scarves in the community. The Maker, who I shall name BumbleBee, is in her young senior years, and buzzes with such zest around the community. Let us not forget the Swarovski crystal on her French manicured nails.

She pulls out a long, luscious, Tiffany blue/green scarf from her bag.

She forces me to take off my coat and current scarf. She wraps the one she knitted around my neck.

I’m pushed to look at myself in the mirror as another colleague follows me and translates the following to me in Hebrew, “Is it okay? Do you like it?” – Yes to all of the above.

“She cuts, you wash, you wear.”

Okay, she cuts, I wash, I wear.

Hugs, spasiba’s, and smiles follow me up to my desk.

I sit here, in front of you, happy to be back in Estonia and deeply inspired from the past week.

So, Jen, tell us, where have you been?

With 90 Jewish teens from Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania in Pedase, Estonia – about 60km from Tallinn. This is also why I have a cold today.  Sniff.

4 days at “Kadima” – a teen seminar devoted to leadership training and team building infused with inspirational Jewish learning. Pedase is a camp-style hotel; wooden bunk beds, shared bathrooms, shared sauna’s, shared laps (people sitting on top of other people), and oh yeah, shared germs.

And SO in my element. Camp counselor Jen came out to play those 4 days; being fun, light, positive and bubbly with teens. Pushing them to put their phones away and take advantage of the learning experience, giving them they eye when being too loud or too goofy. But most importantly, the part that fills my soul with purpose and reminds me of my favorite memories: having meaningful one-on-one conversations with younger generations. Talks of relationships, family life, social life, best friends, enemies, teachers at school; what is G-d? What is Judaism and why should I explore it? What do you believe in? Do you believe in anything? Etc.

Don’t imagine the conversations going completely fluidly; they were broken, absolutely. Words translated by others, and frustration had by the teens when they couldn’t find the word in English. And in my head? Well, in my head, I saw my pieces of my world connect with other pieces; creating clearer images of my life’s puzzle. I realize that sounds absolutely obscure and “out there”; but I felt purposeful. Blessed.

I wrote on the bus, “I feel: Purposeful. Blessed. To be a member of the involved Jewish world. To care about our tribe and its’ future – I feel like a tiny piece of the puzzle who’s just finding connecting pieces ALL.OVER.THE.WORLD.”

And then I wrote a reminder as I walked away from the weekend, “and don’t forget: you, yourself, need be inspired to inspire others.”

A collision of two worlds:

A 5-hour bus ride south took me to Riga, Latvia. The largest city of the Baltic’s. My first trip to connect me to the larger Baltic picture.

Monday, November 12, 2012:

“Sitting at breakfast in the Albert Einstein Hotel in Riga, Latvia. Beatles playing in the background, the view of Riga’s cobble-stones streets and colorful architecture beyond the window. Just saw a dog carrying his/her own leash. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be. E=mc^2”

A little taste of my Catcher in the Rye/stream-of-consciousness journal styling’s.

That evening I was surprised by the JDC Entwine Steering Committee. Without hesitation, I threw my arms around the JDC Staff I knew. Staff, by the way, who interviewed me for this very position. A very surreal, full-circle feeling – a collision of two worlds, if you will.

Rachel, who is a former JDC JSC Fellow and who now works for JDC-New York, was my first connection to this current chapter of my life. Rachel interviewed me via Skype in April; I remember it vividly. Sitting in my apartment in Lawrence, Kansas, rocking my business professional attire, just 2 months shy of graduating. The moment that literally led me to this overwhelmingly connected hug with her in Riga, Latvia. Where my current Baltic life exists, with my Baltic colleagues and friends, rocking my more trendy-euro-hipster attire, just shy of 2 months since landing in Estonia. All in one room together.

Hello surrealism.

And I spent the next day with the JDC Entwine Steering Committee on their tour of Jewish Riga. Incredibly educational and necessary for me to better understand past and current Jewish life – clarity was gained, and feelings were undoubtedly felt. We walked through Jewish ghetto’s, where Jews were forced to live during ww2; we saw cemeteries, memorials, Jewish museums, and artifacts that left us with emotions too hard to put into words.

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Anger, sadness, confusion, optimism, belief, and even greater motivation for the future.

“what the eyes can’t see, the heart can’t feel”

I was told this 3 months ago as I prepared for my new life in the Baltic’s. It resonated in my heart exponentially as I drifted from images too difficult to grasp.

But now I saw.

And I feel more than ever.

And I understand so much more.

 And I’m grateful I get 10 more months to put that better understanding, that motivation for the future, into my work here. I don’t just walk away and sit in Dallas, Texas with the memory of a destroyed Jewish community in my head – I get to help in their revival, their renewal.

“You’re one of us now”,said the President of the Jewish Community of Riga. I am. Without question. I am so a part of this community it baffles me at times. When people ask me how I am, how I’m doing, I point to the people and say, “Just look at them. Look how funny, how beautiful they are. That’s how I’m doing”

Thanksgiving is in a week so hurry up and send me recipes! If you’d like to send me a turkey, that’s totally okay too.

Lats of Love,

Jenstonia – Feelin’ so Baltic.