Here’s the thing about your year in Israel: You plan for it for a full year, you make lists, you buy clothes (skirts that cover your knees!), you stock up on toiletries, you book your flight and you Facebook-stalk your future roommate.
And yet, however prepared you might think you are, nothing can possibly prepare you for that moment in the airport terminal, standing in front of the gate that leaves you on one side and your entire life on the other, fighting back the tears as you say goodbye to your family and hello to your future. And yes, that sounds deeply corny and clichéd, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
I like to think that I’m independent—after all, I’ve been away from my family every summer since I was 9. I like to think that I’m mature. I also like to think that I’m friendly. And maybe I am, when it’s easy to be those things. But that first day of seminary, after you walk off that 12-hour flight and take the one-hour bus ride to Yerushalayim, I was none of those things.
I was, to put it simply, absolutely terrified. The girls were new, the rooms were tiny, the showers were gross and the food was horrible. I had two choices: I could, as some girls were doing, simply sit down on my bed and cry. Or, I could take a deep breath, smooth back my hair, wipe the mascara smudges from under my eyes, and say, “Hi.”
Which is exactly what I did. And, will you look at that, they said, “Hi” back. All of the sudden they were real people, who I actually wanted to speak to. It was shocking. And so, here I am, an official seminary girl at last. Yes, I went to Ben Yehuda and screamed as loud as I could when I saw my friends I hadn’t seen in two whole days, happy and content and very well fed—thank you, Aroma. I’m actually looking forward to this year. It can only get better.
Arielle Wasserman is currently studying at Midreshet Lindenbaum, one of Masa Israel’s 200 programs.
