Shalom!

So after a ten hour flight from Phoenix to London, a 20 hour layover in London, and a 5 hour flight London to Tel-Aviv, I am finally here. And frankly, it is perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

The journey was a bit crazy, however. The highlight was definitely chilling with my old mission companion Christina O'Dea in London. The low-point was a toss up between sleeping (or trying, rather) in the most uncomfortable position possible in Heathrow airport (while freezing to death) and sitting on the Tel-Aviv London flight next to quite possibly the smelliest person on the planet while getting my chair kicked by the little brat behind me.                            

I had a few hours to kill before we met up so I wandered around London. I had previously figured on shopping, and bee-lined for the H&M at Oxford Circus the minute I stepped off the plane. However, after spending the last week shopping like it was my job, I walked out just as I walked in to the store. Shopping was the last thing I felt like doing. So I aimlessly puttered about before deciding to head to St. Paul's. I was seriously surprised how well I got around. It was my third time to London and I guess my memory and sense of direction isn't as bad as I thought. I stopped by Westminster Abbey and Big Ben (behind my head in the photo I took of myself) and passed the London Eye (to the left in the photo). 

St. Paul's was great. They had a dress rehearsal going on for some BBC choral/orchestral thing and it was absolutely glorious. Honestly, music in a cathedral, especially one like St. Paul's, is just beyond words (well, "ethereal" might capture it a bit). So naturally I fell asleep, hunched over in an uncomfortable wooden chair until it was time to head to Leichester Square. Come to think of it, all my sleeping done during the two day period that I spent traveling was done hunched in a chair...

Chris and I met up and went to Mr. Wu's all-you-can-eat chinese food for 5 quid. It probably wasn't the greatest, but I was starved, it was cheap and the company was excellent, so I quite enjoyed myself. Plus, Chris paid. Nothing tastes better than free food. We then went and saw Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. It was a really great show. I only fell asleep two or three times...hunched in the chair.

Me & Chris at Mr. Wu's: funny story with this picture. The British are so reserved. I know that. I just forget it from time to time. So I ask this guy at a neighboring table to take our picture and he asks where I am from. Arizona, I say, and he then asks if there are snakes. So I, of course, proceed to tell an action-packed story of this time I was trail running in the desert and came one foot from a freaked out rattle snake. I screamed and my life flashed before my eyes. I think I may have started reciting the Lord's prayer or Pslams 23. Can't be sure. Then, I start to give them rattle snake victims statistics.  Suddenly, I come to and realize the entire restaurant is basically staring at me. I think I freaked the guy out. Scratch that--I'm SURE I freaked him out. Chris was just laughing. David Sedaris was right, we Americans are "the trumpeting elephants of the human race." 

In any case, after that, we said goodbye and I headed back to the airport. I was going to crash at her place, but there wouldn't have been trains to get me to the airport as early as I would have needed to be there the next morning so I had to try my luck fighting for the best benches at Heathrow. I happened to really stink at that battle (I wouldn't make a good homeless person in a park) and ended up on the most uncomfortable bench ever. It had the little arm rest railing things so I couldn't spread out. I leaned over it and tried to squeeze my feet through the rail on the opposite side. It was not cute, let's just leave it at that. I would look up every 15 minutes to see if anyone had vacated one of the nice, rail-less benches. But I had no such luck and basically didn't sleep hardly at all. That says a lot for me because I can pretty much sleep anywhere.

We wont talk about the flight because it was awful. I'd like to put that memory behind me. I have an insanely sensitive nose and  bad smells are my cryptonite. This guy was downright putrid. I almost asked to be moved. In addition to "Smelly", they told me just before I boarded that my luggage was nowhere to found. Cross you fingers, the bloke said. Yeah, I'll do that buddy. Being the fatalist that I am I assumed my luggage was lost forever. In my minds eye I saw some airport workers in ill-fitting clothes picking through all my new banana republic business duds and eating all my gummy bears. Oh, how I hated them. I just prayed that my luggage would somehow miraculously show up in Tel-Aviv.

So flight happens, I sleep as much as possible to escape the stench of my fellow passenger. When I get off, before I hit passport control, I see a little guy with a sign that says "Erin Thornhill." Yeah, it was sweet. They got an embassy worker past all the security to pick me up and get me through all the passport and customs stuff quickly. The customs lady was a real wench and told me that I needed to have gotten a visa. I had already worked things out with the Israeli consulate in LA and they said I was fine. She was just ticked because I didn't want them to stamp my passport with her country's stamp. An Israeli stamp in your passport can really put a wrench in Middle Eastern travel being as how all their neighbors hate them with the fire of a thousand suns. And, naturally, I want to travel and explore. She interoggated me about where I was staying and why I was there and the second I said US Embassy and my little friend started talking to her, she shut up real quick and gave me the go-ahead. Nitzan, my friend, said that "US embassy" are the magic words around here. As luck would have it, my bags escaped the evil airport workers and made it on the plane at the last minute so I found them no problem. In fact, because they were the last on, they were the first off. 

After that I met Nydia and Sabriel Harris, the people I live with. John, Nydia's husband and Sabriel's Grandpa (and consequently my padre's old mission president) was in Jerusalem with Condi Rice and couldn't make it. 

Frankly, it has rocked from the moment I got off the plane. The Harris's live in a really really nice home and I have my own room and bathroom (BIG change from the couch...) and there is a maid who refills a pitcher of water for me everyday in my room. Yes, I have a maid. Life is pretty much a dream. I'll probably lose a limb any day now. It can't stay this good forever.

Because of Condi's visit, everyone is in Jerusalem so I wont start my internship till Friday. John invited me to Jerusalem for Thursday but Nydia is a bit mother hennish and flipped royally because they just got bombed. So I was then uninvited. I figure that because they just got bombed, it'd be a while before it happened again. Think of the odds, I say. It's safe now than ever...But anyway, we are going on Sunday to Jerusalem and one of John's Palestinian friends is hooking us up big time and taking us to the dome of the rock. I have to wear a veil and everything. I'll definitely take pictures. Being considered "family" by a senior diplomat is going to really have its benefits. Who am I kidding, it already has. Apparently we are partying at the Irish embassy for St. Patrick's Day. Looking forward to that...

The Harrises are AWESOME. Eighteen-year-old Sabriel and I are already like sisters. We had a pretty instant bond. It'll be fun to hang out and go to the Mediteranean with her. Speaking of the beach, I ran there this morning. So gorgeous. Man, life can only get worse from here on out, eh? 

Basically, all is well and I feel very much at home here. I'm understanding quite a bit of the Hebrew and I think it's going to come fast now that I'm immersed. I just really need some Israeli friends. Preferably, obscenely attractive male Israeli friends who own vespas. It'd be like the movies. I've seen it a million times. Right after the American girl gets to the foreign country, out pops a fine male product of that country to sweep the American girl off her feet and onto his Vespa. Maybe he'd fall into her while being punched in a bar fight and flying out into the streets where she'd be shopping, or he'd nearly hit her while she in wanders into the middle of the road, confused. I can totally see it. I'll just cross my fingers. Hey, it worked on my luggage...