Gazing at Galilee

At the Sea of Galilee

I will say it again: Sigh. So, so beautiful

On the Sea of Galilee

Shalom/Marhaba Family!

I am sitting on the bus and my computer is about to die but I thought I would try and write up this email. Sometimes, it feels like the only time I have to sit down and write you is on the bus. It is Thanksgiving Day (hooray!) and we are driving home from Galilee. Our bus reminds me of the magic school bus: it is daffodil yellow, with dolphins and little sea creatures all over it. I keep waiting for a teacher with frizzy red hair to come sauntering down the aisle, announcing we will be shrinking ourselves today so we can fly with butterflies or drive into some student’s mouth.

Instead, Professor Huntsman shuffles us around Galilee in our magic school bus. I think Galilee may be better than any adventure from the cartoon shows.

We arrived in Galilee ten days ago. Everyone else in my group got aboard the bus with plump, fully packed suitcases. I came with my little duffel bag. Bad idea.

After ten days of living out of my little duffel bag, I now smell. Like campfire ash, muddy feet, mixed with manure. But I can’t complain.

I smell like a campfire because I snuggled up around a bonfire three times on the seashore.

I smell like dirt because we hiked to waterfalls and jumped around on rocks where Christ may have spoken to another rock, Peter.

I smell like the sea because I swam in the Sea of Galilee. Yes, in my professor’s words, “We swam where Jesus walked, today.”

We stayed at a kibbutz right on the sea shore of Galilee. The Sea of Galilee is so, so clear. When I went up to the water, I put my toes in the tide and looked down. I could see every pink-pearled seashell and every pale pebble. I understand why Christ chose to walk in this sea instead of Bear Lake (no offense, Grandpa-I still love Bear Lake for fishing).

We lugged rocks in the water and each took our turn “walking on water.” But I kept begging someone to accidently push me into the water.

For the first few days, the teachers told us we could not go swimming and I was just itching to get into the water (one, to cover up my smell and two, because it is the Sea of Galilee). But, no, we needed a lifeguard.

I didn’t have too much time to complain. Every day, we went on a field trip or we went to class. I think our teachers want us to become as wise as Christ’s disciples with the amount of studying they expect from us. I tried to hush my mental breakdowns, because Galilee already has a history of women possessed with devils. I took the readings on the bus and carried my scriptures around like a baby, trying to squeeze in time to read and study.

The day of our midterm came and I basically stitched myself to my study guide. After lunch, and cramming for another hour, I went to take the test. Right before then, my teacher told us-miracle of miracles-they found a lifeguard for us. But we had to be to the water by 4:30.

I grabbed my test, sat down in one of the seats without a desk, and nearly choked on a hysterical laugh when I looked at the test.

I am a slow test taker. And I knew this test would take me a while. But I dove in. Question after question, I ached to rest my hand. I kept looking at my watch. I tried to scribble in the tiniest hand writing my every tiny bit of knowledge on every term.

I only had a few more questions left and I looked down at my watch: four o’clock. There was no way I was going to make it to the beach. I sighed and consigned myself to a sad fate: I would never swim in the Sea of Galilee. But then, I read the last question. It was about Mary and Martha.

I knew this answer.

Martha was always so troubled … about everything.

And I know I am always so troubled … about everything.

At that moment, I made a decision. I did something I don’t normally do. I did not look over my test five thousand times before I turned it in. I wrote in my last response, stood up, handed in my paper and then … I ran.

I ran outside, slipped off my shoes, and I ran to my little cottage near the end of the kibbutz. My backpack sloshed around on my back and my tailbone still hurt from basketball, but I continued to run. At my kibbutz cottage, I slammed the door and grabbed my swimsuit off the bathroom hook.

Then, clad in a damp, mildew-smelling, ultra-modest, there is no cleavage anyways, swimsuit, I ran down to the shoreline.

Everyone else was already at the water’s edge. There were some people “walking” on water. Other people were wading out past their ankles. And other people were throwing clumps of mud at each other. I turned to the closest person and asked, “did I make it?”

No.

The lifeguard had just left.

I wanted to sit down and cry.

I felt like one of the ten foolish virgins, who was not allowed into the wedding.

I felt like I did when Sheila left for Seminary without me, because I was too busy dabbling on my tube of mascara.

But then, Scott and Thomas grabbed my arms and while I protested, they threw me into the water.

I wasn’t allowed to go in past my waist without a lifeguard, but I still floated around and got fully soaked in the Sea of Galilee.

You remember the part in Ever After where Danielle floats in the pond? I felt like that. The sun decided to join me in the water and slowly sunk down at the edge of the horizon. I am getting gushy again but, really, Galilee is beautiful.

There is so, so much I need to tell you. But I am afraid I am just blubbering now so we’ll keep the rest of this short (I promise Sheila!-This will not be another high school sized, Kimberly essay).

We sang gospel songs on boat rides. I lifted my hands and sang, “My God is an Awesome God!” until my throat hurt. I still have that song stuck in my head.

I think I may have experienced the first stages of hypothermia on our hike. But we found a waterfall so I stopped complaining about my yellow, molten purple looking-skin.

We ate at another fish restaurant. There were options: fish, pizza, or pasta. Everyone was so happy to get the plump rolls and bread everywhere we ate in Galilee. But I was not surprised—of course, the land where Christ fed bread and fish to the five thousands would have delicious, doughy warm pitas. Plus humus. So, I ordered the fish because I wanted the full experience: bread and fish, please. I felt like one in the crowd of five thousand. But when my fish came, it looked like one Peter had just caught in the net. Except a little fried. So I ate some of Jessica’s pizza, too. This time, I stayed away from the fish’s eye.

….

My computer died on the Bus

…

And now I am back at the Center!

…

When we trudged off the busses, and got back into the center, we all almost started to cry.

They decorated the Center for Christmas.

It is so beautiful.

There are pine trees and gold twinkling lights.

I really do live in a castle on a hill.

Our teachers told us to go wash-up for dinner (yes, they knew I smelled). By this time, I smelled like fish paste mixed with humus.

I got in one of Kaylie’s dresses and tried to scrub off the dirt on my face.

Then, we went outside the Oasis.

Achman made Thanksgiving dinner. I like to compliment Achman whenever he makes fudgy brownies or anything I like because I know he will make it again soon, if I do (I like to believe that is why we have potatoes at almost every meal).

But this Thanksgiving dinner Achman outdid himself.

We walked into the Oasis and the cooks were just grinning, as if they had big ears of corn stuck under their lips. We did not disappoint them with how excited we acted. I think I squealed. The cooks stood along the buffet line with two grizzled turkeys slicing thick tender pieces for each plate. They gave out dollops of stuffing with the softest pieces of bread and crispiest pieces of celery (and some olives but we all picked those out). Royal purple cranberry sauce. Fruit salad with whipped cream and gold, sugared pecans. Then they presented the pies. The pies were sugared with crumbled doughy tops and warm sugared apples. I feasted like a happy queen.

But, Grandma Allen, your Thanksgiving dinners will always have my heart.

And I wish I could have been there at the Michels' home with everyone. I miss you all!

Today, we are still in recovery from our Turkey comas. I am too deliriously happy to have another mental breakdown about my grades. I think later I may just go into the Old City.

The shopkeepers will be waiting for me.

Love you all so much,

Kimberly

P.S. Sorry Sheila, this turned into a rambling email…per usual…just imagine what headaches I give my teachers with the essays I sneeze out.

We (Kind of) Walked Where Jesus Walked

(Please note the gapping holes in my right shoe. I know understand why Christ wore sandals)

This time, I did not eat the fish's eye.

On Mount Tabor, where Christ may have looked out from.

We went on so many field trips the places are now jumbled around inside my head. We had a pig race where the devil possessed swine ran into the sea. We saw John's home (at the place pictured above). But my favorite, still, was probably going on the boat ride.

Robin and Me at Nimrod's Castle. Our friendship is defined by the sunbeam.

I wish I could live in Galilee forever.

A Manger Scene, A Basketball Bump, and Everything Else in the Cobblestone Scene

Hi Family!

Everyone is singing Christmas songs. Someone next to me is belting out "Winter Wonderland." A person in the next room is practicing, "Silver Bells." I think BYU chose who gets to go to Jerusalem based on musical talent and I somehow slipped through the cracks. But I adore Christmas so I am singing along. Everywhere around the JC people are humming, mumbling, and whistling Christmas. The Christmas movies are stacking up, too. So I am in heaven.

I always said that if I could have any job in the world it would be to be Santa's wife.

So, I knew I would love going to Bethlehem.

We went to Bethlehem on Sunday. Bethlehem was everything I hoped. In fact, it was better.

There were cobblestone streets. And little doors tucked around every corner.

Since it is the West Bank, all of the JC went to Bethlehem with our security guys right behind us. I think we all held our breath going through the security checkpoint, clutching our passports, and hoping we wouldn't be stopped. But the men at the checkpoint just sauntered right onto our bus, walked down the aisle, and were off the bus again in a matter of moments. I don't think they saw a bunch of twittering college students as much of a threat.

When we got off the bus and started walking along the cobblestone streets, I felt like I was in Candyland. The streets were quiet. The homes were nestled one against the other. The red doors and green doors and wooden doors are all so small, they look like a child's playroom.

We went to the Church of the Nativity, where they believe Christ was born. When we ducked under another too-small door, we entered a dimly lit cathedral. Some people held candles that smelled sickly sweet, like cherry syrup mixed with ground up hyssop.

There was no laughing allowed inside the church.

And the priests strictly enforced that rule.

In their black dress and curly beards, the priests looked so fervent. Their eyebrows scrunched up and they kind of "gah-ed" anytime someone let a smothered giggle escape their lips.

At first, I was taken back by they way they acted. But, then, I understood that the place was special, to them.

We waited in line to go down to the place where they believe Christ was actually born. It took an hour to get through the line and I felt like I was being pushed and shoved in every which way. I wonder if that is how a passerby felt when Christ came into the city and the people thronged about him. I would have been the person that the crowds stampeded under and the donkey trampled.

While it did not look like the manger I hoped for and no little manger rested inside, it was still so nice to think that somewhere, somewhere very close, the first Christmas happened there.

Life at the JC was, in one word, stressful this past week. I have had too many mental breakdowns to count. Sigh. But finals for three of my classes are almost over. Thank goodness.

But we still manage to have fun even when we are studying about King So and So wiping out the So and So tribe.

For Halloween, me and three of my friends here dressed up as the "Mean Girls." (It's a Lindsay Lohan movie. Dad, Sheila may have forced you to see this one with her right after Legally Blonde).

It was a bit unsettling when people came up to us and told us they couldn't tell we were dressed up until they saw us all together--with too much makeup gunked on our faces and powdered in every shade of pink. And, at the last moment, we made a "Burn Book." In a movie, the Mean Girls make a Burn Book and put gossip in about everyone at their school. You can see a few of the pictures of the gossip we came up with (refer to blog)...mwahaha.

For more fun, we also take looong breakfast, lunch, and dinner breaks. I sip my warm milk, munch on my peanut butter smothered piece of toast, and procrastinate having to learn yet another King with everyone else. One night, a boy was doing the "cinnamon challenge." The challenge is you take an entire spoon of cinnamon, shove it in your mouth, and swallow.

I saw the guy doing and I thought, "pshh that's easy." After my fish eye experience, I was ready to sample the cow blood they serve in Kenya. Yup, I was a bit cocky. So I made the mistake of saying, "pshh that's easy," to everyone around me. So one of the boys jumps up and got me my own spoonful of cinnamon. After everyone started chanting, I shoved the spoon in my mouth.

My eyes burned.

It felt like a pine tree was shoved up my nose.

Granules of sugar and spice and everything nice burned in my throat.

I tried to swallow but the powder had turned into sludge.

I stood up and by then, everyone in the cafeteria was watching.

I waved my hands in my face and tried to tuck more of the cinnamon into my cheeks but, now, it was cement.

Then, I looked around and saw everyone laughing so I chuckled.

A big puff of cinnamon billowed out in front of my face.

So I ran for the nearest trash and nearly threw up as I spit the sludge out. It was sooo attractive.

Perhaps my favorite, and much less disgusting way, of taking a break from studying is playing basketball. Yup, I said it. I know, it's strange. Me? Basketball? Bukra fel mesh mesh (that means 'tomorrow an apricot' or 'when hell freezes over.'). But a bunch of the girls formed several powderpuff basketball teams and I couldn't resist joining one. Our team name is "The Gold diggers" (like my future career) and we are tough stuff. We practice. We have a coach (he is one of the students and always comes to our games wearing slacks, a button-up shirt, and toting around a clipboard...he's so proud).

After several pep talks, we had our first game. At that game, one girl got stitches. My teammate's teeth accidentally gnawed at her forehead and the blood spilt everywhere. The girl grabbed her forehead and everyone thought she lost an eye. A puddle of red formed underneath her by the time the doctor came. But we wiped up the floor, and still won the game (the girl is ok-five stitches later).

At the second game, I was determined to not be the little wimp that is shoved around the court. So I laced up my shoes and set out to at least get the ball ... at least once.

I got it.

And I even defended a few shots.

There was one point where I got in the way and hit a wall of bodies. I slammed to the ground-tailbone first and ended on my head.

The way my skull hit the floor there was an audible "thud."

The game stopped.

And I even got the crowd saying, "oooh."

My professor's wife was so sweet and came running from the sideline. She held my head and kept asking me if I was ok.

You know in the movies where the cartoon character gets an anvil on his head and starts seeing stars? Well, I didn't see stars but I definitely retreated into my own little Lala Land. So I just held onto my professor's wife and kept saying, "I'm ok, I'm ok." Eventually, I blinked out of my Lala land and insisted I could still play (I want to be considered tough).

But I will now blame my inability to play basketball and my not-so-beautiful ANE grades on a possible concussion.

Honestly though, my head didn't hurt the next day. It is my tailbone. I shuffled around the center looking like I had a permanent wedgie.

We still find time (or at least we make time) to go into the City. Yesterday, we went out for ice cream. We found old flowers in a trash bin and carried them home, too. I took a bouquet of limp lilies. The way the men on the streets started hooting when they saw us with flowers, you would think they thought we were going off to our wedding day.

Today, we went to the Garden Tomb. I love it there. It is always so crowded on the sabbath with tour groups. But they have their guitars out, strumming along, and singing their praises as if Christ just came out of the tomb. So, I love it.

I decided I also love the Bible. I don't mean to sound preachy here but the Bible is now one of my favorite books. I always rolled my eyes at people who said if they could only have one book on a desert island, they would bring the Bible. But the Bible is really so interesting. The stories are amazing. And they are scandalous! C'mon you have harlots saving the day, a man marrying sisters (can you imagine, Melissa?), and barren women going to any means for a child--these stories are scandalous. I am not doing justice to my thoughts right now and I maybe should delete this paragraph but I love the stories. I want to meet Rachel and compliment her on the way she hide those statues from her father (read it--it's hilarious). I wish I had been there to see how Hannah looked nearly drunk in the church as she prayed. I wish I had been there to tell Samson not to fall for a pair of pretty eyes or swinging hips. I suppose I can settle for living where they once lived.

It's amazing, too, how well the stories are connected. I spent all my high school life revering Shakespeare, but the best metaphors are in the book I used as a pillow during seminary. Everything makes sense! Everything is related! All the metaphors work so perfectly! I just didn't read the words carefully before. Ok, now I am sounding preachy. It's a hallelujah moment. You can't help but have those moments here.

This upcoming week, we are going to Galilee. They told us in our orientation that we will be "swimming where Jesus walked."

I am thrilled.

Everyone hopes there will be a storm when we are in the boats in the middle of the sea.

I'll bring my laptop so I can hopefully email you during the next two weeks.

I love you all and miss you all.

Love,

your daughter who may potentially bring the Bible with her if she was ever stuck on a desert island ... or Harry Potter ... or Jane Eyre ... ok, I''ll be righteous and bring the Bible.

Kimberly

P.S. I was reading the Bible one night and Kaylie sneezed. Without looking up, I said, "Bless Thou." Yup, I may be more awkward than Sheila when she first came home from her mission and didn't hug me :)

Oh, and Good news!!--If you search "Where to find Magnum Bars in Jerusalem" my blog is the first thing to pop up on google! I have never been more proud. And yes, a friend and I were searching that phrase in google...

For Halloween, we were the "Mean Girls." But I like to think that we are actually the nice version of the Mean Girls.

Scandalous gossip whispered through the Bible.

Oh, little town of Bethlehem. Sigh.