Aimee (in blue) and her friends, who took second place in their school’s Purim costume contest.

The chag (holiday) of Purim was like no other day I’ve ever experienced. It was a day of genuine celebration that doesn’t compare to the commercialized holidays of the United States. Living in Israel for the year, I decided to go all out, even though I was worried my expectations would exceed the reality of the day. You see, everything is said to be bigger and better here in the Holy Land.

Dressed as a midnight blue Crayola crayon, I marched the streets with my fellow colors in tow. It didn’t matter what we were doing or where we were going; the ambiance was so thick and the heat of celebration so intoxicating that it could’ve melted off my costume. Ironically, I expected my day to be filled with kids running up and down the streets, but Purim isn’t just the children’s day to play dress up.

I started Shushan Purim, the day after Purim celebration in Jerusalem, by walking to the Kotel. Everyone on the way wore clever costumes that told a story. There was a boy dressed as popcorn with real popped kernels sprinkled on his head, a girl dressed as a package of Mentos candies and even a couple dressed as pirates with hooks as hands. Mamilla, the shopping center of the Old City, was even more packed than during Christmas shopping season. A mother dressed as a Native American carried her daughter, a ladybug with cute little antennae. At the Kotel, the masks came off and the seriousness of the holiday hit me. The Jews were saved from Haman—if they weren’t, I wouldn’t be standing here before the Western Wall. Walking backward, I realized the enormity of the wall and the importance of the holiday.

With everyone handing out kosher candies, I was reminded the day had only just started. I headed toward Meah Shearim, the largest ultra-Orthodox community of Jerusalem. The conformity in the town seemed almost alien. The toddlers and parents looked alike. Dressed as Queen Esther, Mordechai and even a Har Sinai, everyone had modest clothing along with modest attitudes. Long beards and head coverings were tied into each costume.

Although it seemed foreign, it was refreshing to dress up in a creative way, rather than just revealing as much skin as you can and putting a pair of animal ears on your head. The streets smelled like hamantashen and fish. Right when I was ready to leave, a van pulled up blasting Purim songs, and everyone broke out in song. It was amazing to be in a place where the streets ran on celebration and weren’t constricted by traffic lights.

I was then ready to color a new spectrum. On Ben Yehuda Street in the center of town, another feeling came over me. My anticipation had been bottled up and was ready to pop. The excitement was tightly wrapped in paper and about to be lit on its end. When the sun set and the costumes emerged, it was just seconds before the firecrackers began to blast. All the stores were filled with signs of celebration. At each entrance, the store owners dressed in their own costumes wished everyone a day of fun.

I walked to the bus stop, ready to crash, when firecrackers started popping. Fire flying through the air filled me with initial fear and then a feeling of freedom. The fireworks blasting through the air reaffirmed my love for Israel. No other place in the world could release itself from within. A small stick lit for five seconds could explode into this extravagantly beautiful creation in the sky, just for an instant. I had just lived in that moment this Purim. Before I knew it, it was over. I hopped off the bus back at school and took off my costume with a sigh of fulfillment. The bus drove away with the shining lights of Purim fading into the distance.

For my previous article about life in Israel, click here.

Aimee Rubensteen, 18, is living in Jerusalem and studying for the year. She enjoys writing, singing and performing. When she’s not spending her time in class, you may find her walking the streets of the Holy Land eating her favorite fro-yo. She’s also a member of the JVibe Teen Advisory Board.