I have now been in Israel for six months. One thing I have noticed is that in general, there isn’t the same instant gratification I had in the States. When I wait in line, I really wait. When I talk to a friend or family member, we really talk. When I need to get somewhere, I sit on a bus, and I mean really sit, for hours on end. With so much time to sit and think, I notice many things that may have passed me by had I been driving in my own car and singing along with my music as the hours melted away.

I am sitting in John F. Kennedy International Airport surrounded by a group of strangers and ready to depart from everything that is familiar to me. Standing in line to get my baggage checked, I nervously try to make conversation with the people around me. I am asked questions. I ask questions. They are all the same generic curiosities of people who have never met each other, but anticipate spending a great deal of time together.

“If I forget thee, Jerusalem
Let my right hand be forgotten”

aying goodbye to my family and my home last January for a semester abroad with NFTY's High School in Israel (Jerusalem) was one of the hardest things to do. Leaving home, I understood, was one of life's terrifying, yet important events. Though it was not a permanent move, it was nonetheless a challenge that kept me thinking long and hard into the night.

It finally happened. I had heard the stories from American and Israeli friends in the past--how people on Year Course 2000-2001 were half of a mile from the Dolphinarium when a suicide bomber killed himself and over 20 young Israelis, and how people on Year Course this year were very close to a shooting in Jerusalem several weeks ago.

Saying goodbye to my family and my home for a semester abroad with NFTY's High School in Israel (Jerusalem) was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Leaving home, I understood, was one of life's terrifying, yet important events. Though it was not a permanent move, it was nonetheless a challenge that kept me thinking long and hard into the night. Amidst these rough waters, a friend's words helped me to make the decision to finally pack my bags and blurt out a "sayonara" to the world as I knew it. She had simply said, "Face your fears."

Hi! My name is Mia Goldwasser and according to my cell phone countdown, I will be departing for Israel as a member of Young Judaea's 2005-2006 Year Course in 19 days, 4 hours, and 44 minutes. I can't believe it!

I am about to close my third month here on Year Course, and leave Beit Riklis in Jerusalem for an apartment in Bat Yam. I have three more school days, one more Zionism siyur, three finals, two papers to write, one song in Hebrew to translate, and one JVibe article to write until the weekend rolls around, when I'll be packing up my room for Sunday's big move in day. The transition should be an interesting one.

This past weekend, I found myself in a bomb shelter of a secular West Bank settlement, talking with teens our age about Jewish identity in Israel and in the Diaspora. The entire situation kind of worked out in my favor, because for the last month I've been trying to put together this article in my head, something about what it means to be Jewish in Israel; what it is that qualifies you as a Jew; why is it that being Jewish and Israeli are seen as two different things; and how secular Israeli society is still very Jewish to me.

Here in Jerusalem, we live for the weekends. All week long, we go to class, do homework, go on siyyurim (field trips) and study. Then the weekend comes and we finally have a chance to escape from our hostel and see Israel on our own.