She's got a ticket to ride...

When I got home to my parents on May 13, they put a moratorium on travel, a la the current government ban, and I said, 'Yea, yea, sure, okay.' But, I lied. Sorry. I'm getting back on a plane Sunday, passport ready to rock.

This next trip was supposed to be a little encore, just a short trip to Berlin and then a week in Israel before heading to Chicago to start my job conveniently with the new Jewish and school year. Gasp, I wasn't even going to blog about it.

Then, I got a company phone call that said, "wait, not yet, don't come back - we want you, but in October."

I was dizzy with confusion. I had spent nine months waiting for the startdate to arrive. I was a little mad. But quickly, stars aligned, and I changed my flights to extend my stay... by 20 days. When life gives you something that might seem like lemons, realize it's a ticket to ride.

This decision is the most glorious of difficult ones. It's not like 22 year olds can complain about the unexpected 6-week extension of cubicle-free childhood. I could have just moved to Chicago, babysat to pay rent, and studied for the GMAT, mostly sticking to the original plan, but not one of those things appealed more than the thought of starting a new year in Jerusalem. In effect, I get to start my new post-grad, post-camp, post-limbo life there. Gold walls hit by perfect sunsets, fingers sticky from Marzipan rugelach, black-hatted neighbors and sweaty house danceclub nights, I'm dreaming already.

First, my Berlin trip will be with Germany Close Up, a joint venture of the German Foreign Ministry and the American Jewish Committee, blending modern cultural, religion, and national progress in an attempt to face a history there's no denying. Prague will follow and I'll be doing a lot on my own. Being lonely in an unknown city where you can't read the signs is surely a good brain exercise. Then, that Sunday, I'll land in Tel Aviv, making my second-ever trip to the Holy Land. I might kiss the ground and Instagram it (don't wait up for that.).

These are not vacations. These are mindtrips. I'm confronting history, my growing-up self, and pastries far finer than America's.

Gotta go calculate the pastry budget :-)