I am so happy here. Every day is wonderful. From start to finish. My roommates are so kind and happy morning people. We say a quick prayer together and head up to the cafeteria. We eat like kings and queens. There is the structure of classes and a schedule to keep me focused, and then, there''s the city. Outside each of these windows is a magical kingdom with new adventures daily, some of them planned, some we find on our own. Like today, for example. There I was sitting on the balcony overlooking the city, with a beautiful, silky breeze gently blowing my hair and rustling the umbrella overhead. It was like a scene you would find on the cover of a travel guide. Life couldn’t get better. Then, breaking the moment, the girls I was studying with decided to go into the Old City for the afternoon, even though we all have tons of reading to do. I entertained the thought of going with them for a moment, then decided, like I always do, to stay behind. Christeen the studious. Then the magic of this place started to work . . . I started to rethink my decision. Thoughts came from all different angles. What am I doing? Why did I decide to come here? Do I want perfect grades, or a first-hand experience in a time-worn city of kings, where every stone is an artifact, and every corner holds a memory of both ancient and modern conquests? I asked myself those questions as I stared out over the Kidron Valley, onto the old city walls. I don’t even understand what I’m reading, I thought to myself. It would be different if I thought what I was reading was more important, or a better choice than going . . . out there. But you know what? It wasn’t. With a smile on my face, I packed up my books and ran to catch up, my backpack half zipped, my hair tangled and windswept from the excitement. 

     Clara and Abby waited for me, forgoing their original plans to go with a larger group. I was so grateful, and it was absolutely perfect to travel with them. Abby is so American, in every sense of the positive way, but also, in a way that is new and somewhat brash to those outside of the “land that I love.” She is loud, bouncy, and sparkly, with a big smile she is unable to contain as she sing-songingly replies to any cat call or tempting offer from the merchants. “Thank you! Not today!,” she sings as we pass by the sellers. When we were walking home from the day, one of the taxi drivers asked if we wanted a ride. When she politely declined, he asked, extremely bluntly, as most like him do to tourists, “Well why not!?” Her reply was perfect, so spontaneous, and quick witted, yet gracious and respectful. “Well, we’d like to enjoy the walk!” I smiled as I looked ahead wishing I were able to give clever replies like that. But I get ahead of myself . . . back to the beginning of the afternoon. 

     Three really is the perfect number of people to travel with. I only brought my bag instead of my fanny pack and water bottle, hoping in vain, to somehow fit in with the locals. Ummm, not possible. It feels a little bit like Indonesia when we get into the Muslim quarter of the Old City. The crowds, the smells, the veiled women and authoritative men. My fellow students at the center all say the Muslim quarter is the dirtiest. I get a little offended when they talk like that. I love them all, but the Muslims have a special little place in my heart. Indonesia has been talked about quite a bit here. It makes me feel famous. It is, after all, the largest group of Muslims in the world. Coming here has changed my perspective, however. Why didn’t I realize that Islam was imported into Indonesia just like Mormonism? Why didn’t I realize they were once converts and could be converts again? The Muslims I met on my mission seemed so unapproachable and unmovable in their beliefs when in all reality, they were converted at one time too! I really hope I run into some Indonesian’s doing their Jihad, but I have no idea when that is done, if it is done at a certain time. A question for the library, or if I’m really bold, the teachers. Can’t wait. 

    Speaking of books and teachers, I asked Mr. Whitchurch if he could tell me all he knew about the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. You know what he said?! He asked me to go read a book about it. Ha. I was taken back for two reasons. First, I have SO much reading to do. In fact, there are about 4 articles I should be reading right now. But you know what, I have a lot of thoughts I haven’t been able to sort through for a week now, and the books can just go pout for a second while they don’t have my undivided attention. Second, I can go read a book any time I want! But I do understand his point. And I do appreciate the fact that when I do talk to him about it, if I can find time to read the blasted thing, that our conversation will be deeper and mean more. I also believe God will be better inclined to enlighten me from on high after I have done the work. (I will tell you in your heart and in your mind...) See what I meant by lots of thoughts? I’m all over the place, I hope you can follow me. But oh boy does it feel good to just sit and type. Especially on my patio in the absolute most perfect weather I’ve ever felt. This is the temperature of heaven, I’m sure of it! 

     So how did I even get here... Oh yes, the streets of the Muslim Quarter. So the big group was going to see something called the Dormition Abbey. That''s actually the thing that really got me. An abbey?! Wow!! I found out later that Dormition Abbey is the place where the mother of Jesus, mother Mary herself, is buried. We headed down to the city, stopping too long at the crosswalks and talking too loud like tourists do. I learned a lot from my fellow travelers on how to act in this city, like I mentioned before, but I also couldn’t help share a few insights of my own that I learned from my mission (i.e. Sister Nababan.) I pointed out as we walked how quiet everyone was. "Oh ya," the two girls explained. I said, “Listen, if we stop talking, what will we hear?” It was incredible. There we were - in a market place at that! surrounded by at least 50 people all going their separate ways, and we barely heard a sound. I’m exaggerating, but only a little. The two girls looked at me in amazement. Wow! We all learned first-hand why others think that Americans are loud. And we are. I realized that about myself as we walked the small merchandise ladened avenues that I am all about fitting in. Going unnoticed. It’s good, but to some degree I need to incorporate the qualities of my two sweet companions as well. Replying politely, being, well... peculiar. *winky face* ;) 

    We finally made it to the Abby. It was breath taking. I took pictures so don’t worry. The corridor that led to it is all lined with white Jerusalem limestone. The walls were wide and grand. The sun sat low on the horizon as we were approaching 6 o clock, yet the sky was as blue as ever, contrasting beautifully with those high white walls. The road split up ahead allowing us our first view of the Abby. Oh what a dream! I can''t help but whisper the words in reverence and excitement as I type them right now. It’s magical. For this moment within the wide walls, I felt like I was in Italy or France even! Ohhh I looove it! There are so many influences on this city that it’s like I’m traveling all over the world! We took a few pictures with the beautiful tower and domed cathedral behind us. Just a bit of it was showing between the walls and the split in the road. There were pink and red roses in the front courtyard and iron gates on top of the shorter walls. We walked in and the entire inside, floor, walls, and ceiling were covered with mosaics - little square stones all pieced together. Some made beautiful pictures of the Mother Mary, the Saints, and angels. Some stones just made beautiful small tiled designs in the floor. It was majestic. 

     I asked one of the workers if we could sing again, after my amazing experience in the Augusta Victoria church, but unfortunately he said I would have to ask the Fathers. I didn’t mind much because I loved his answer. Wow, the Fathers. There were Fathers! I felt protected and loved by them just because of their title. We enjoyed the moment a little while longer and then headed on our way. We took the other split in the road and came to a synagogue! The girls had already been there but kindly went back for me. Six o''clock must be a special time because the church we had just visited was about to have a mass, and the synagogue was full of people! This wasn’t just any ordinary synagogue, however. It was where King David is/was buried! Wow. I was talking with the girls after, is that really the place? I’m so skeptical of these sites . . . “Well, he was a king” they replied. People would have paid attention to where he was really buried. And I guess that would have lasted through the ages, I hope. 

    We wrapped ourselves in a long black shawl and stood behind a few women worshippers in the small, cornered off, and separate women’s section. Next to us the men were incredibly loud in their worship and free to move around in a large area. Oh well. I don’t dare to claim I understand why there are differences like that, but I do know in spite of what it looks like, they respect women. We watched their worship. Simple. Quiet. Different. All in Hebrew. Nothing dramatic happened while walking home. No matter what shoes you have, walking the city makes you tired. I came home to a night full of homework I didn’t do during the day. But it was ok. It was more than ok. Our teachers are constantly encouraging us to go out into the city during the day and do our homework at night. I can say I even felt the smile of God approve as He watched me run to catch up with my friends that afternoon. There, I think I finally got most of my thoughts out. I feel better. I love that I can write, and I love that it has this sort of healing balm effect on me. Hope you enjoy it and that it helps describe, even a tiny tiny bit of what I''m seeing, hearing, smelling, experiencing, and loving. Love you all! Thanks for helping me be here. It’s just amazing.