Journeys with Jade

She climbed out through the front room window

2011-02-12T00:44:00.000-08:00

It’s a terrible feeling to be locked out of your house, but believe me, it’s equally as terrible to be locked in.

This morning I hit the snooze button one too many times and so by the time I put on my coat and gathered my bags to leave for work, I was already ten minutes later than I should have been. I wasn’t too concerned; as long as I made it there in time for my first interview at 9 a.m. it would be fine.

I reached for the bolt and attempted to unlock my front door unsuccessfully. Though the bolt turned, it did not turn all the way.

It tends to stick sometimes so I wasn’t worried at first. I leaned against the door and tried again, which usually works, but not this time. A few more attempts using all of my strength, and a few kicks for good measure and still nothing. That’s when I got that sinking feeling, as I realized I might not be able to get out.

I considered phoning someone, but was worried it might turn out to be something silly. Yesterday at work for instance, someone couldn’t understand why the door wouldn’t close and it was nearly driving her crazy. I opened it, kicked a few pebbles out of the way with my feet and closed it properly again. However, it soon became clear this was not a matter like the pebbles — my bolt was most definitely jammed.

I don’t have the number for the landlord or Tom, the maintenance man, in my apartment like I should, so I couldn’t call them. Instead, I phoned my friend Robin who lives down the corridor and asked him to go knock on Tom’s door for me, which he kindly did. In the meantime, I phoned the office and explained to them that I was locked in, but that I would try and be there shortly. (They laughed and told me that was an excuse they had never heard before.) I also began to look for a second way out.

Unlike the other apartments in my building, because I am on the corner my window doesn’t open on to the corridor. Rather, it opens on to the roof of a perpendicular building, and there is a metal fence blocking the roof from the walkway. I popped out my screen and stuck my head out to take a look. I am not afraid of heights and climbing on roofs is as natural to me as riding a bike. In fact, as a child I used to be able to climb up a tree and on to the roof of our garage where I spent many hours playing, so this task seemed quite manageable. However, though climbing out might get me to work, it would not solve the problem, so I waited.

Tom came and tried the door from the outside with no success, so I told him I would just climb out. He was worried and went to fetch a ladder for me to get down.

Since at this time I am a career woman and I have no prince charming I couldn’t be bothered waiting around in my tower for long (after all, my hair is much too short for me to play the part of Rapunzel) so I decided to rescue myself. I easily climbed out the window, walked over the roof and climbed over the metal fence.

When Tom returned he looked rather surprised to see me walking across the parking lot with my camera bag and purse on the way to work as if that was how I exited my apartment every morning.

Don’t worry, I did make it to work in time for my interview and Tom did eventually manage to fix my lock for me, so all is right in the world.

[I realize my poor blog has been rather neglected. I have had every intention of writing and lots of ideas, but not a lot of time. However, my adventure this morning inspired me and I am determined to be better.]

The far window is the one that I climbed through. It kind of looks like I live in jail ... or South Africa.

I climbed over the fence. Tom had to use a ladder to get up onto the roof.

Contemplating Mortality

2010-11-09T23:37:00.000-08:00

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadfull, for thou art not so,

For, those, whom though think’st, thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me …

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

~ John Donne

I’m not sure why I love cemeteries as much as I do. Though it might seem morbid to many, I am drawn to them wherever I go. They are peaceful places, and I admit I find them terribly romantic. The more old and spooky looking, the better. Perhaps it is the idea that each grave has a story that appeals to the story collector in me. Whatever it is, I always wind up exploring them (and I suppose I’ll eventually get a good long visit, but that’s about a hundred years away).

With this in mind, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I have already discovered several graveyards in Merritt or just beyond. The actual City Cemetery I found when I was running, and have since returned several times. It is a bit odd actually. On one side is the older section, which is rather gloomy looking — it is all gravel and the gravestones look a bit like they’re crumbling. This is juxtaposed with the new section, which is as perfectly manicured as a golf course. It’s nice that the City obviously takes good care of it and people evidently visit frequently (there are always flowers and other offerings), but I naturally spend more time in the older side, which has more character.

Just this Sunday I took a drive out of town and explored the old Murray churchyard. So far it’s my favourite cemetery nearby, though there are a few native cemeteries that I would like to visit. This one had a cute little old church (which unfortunately was locked or I would have explored further) and an assortment of old graves from the late 1800’s. One that caught my eye was the grave of Reverend W. B. Cuyler who died April 7, 1887. He was 28 years and 3 months. So young. I wonder how he died. The headstone also said he was a native of Bruce, Ontario. I’m sure it’s a sad story. I might just visit the museum and ask them if they know anything about him.

While we’re on the subject, I might as well tell you that it is my dream to one day have a house next to a cemetery. All my superstitious Tongan friends are probably horrified – actually most of you are probably shaking your heads, but there you have it. Towards the end of summer driving through the city of Fort Langley I saw my house. It was a beautiful old heritage home and next to it was a beautiful old cemetery. And it was for sale. When I saw that sign I gasped. Unfortunately I drove by that house too early in life, as I am still poor as a church mouse. Maybe it will wait for me. But until then, as luck would have it, I have moved into a tiny, not so beautiful apartment directly across the street from a little old funeral chapel. So I suppose it’s a step in the right direction. Each day I can look out the window and contemplate mortality.

The view from my living room window.

Another grave in the Murray churchyard.

Country roads and Cattle guards

2010-09-26T23:43:00.000-07:00

I’ve been in Merritt two weeks and four days now, and so far I’m enjoying life as a small-town reporter. Several people have asked me what I write about and the best answer to that is everything. With an editorial staff of two (my editor and I), I am getting all sorts of assignments from corn eating contests to city council meetings.

On Saturday I had my first visit from friends from the outside world. Marie and Cody braved the drive up here (which was an adventure in itself as they were beyond Hope and nearly ran out of gas). Luckily they arrived safely and Merritt rolled out the red carpet with 50’s Day Celebrations and Canadian National Retriever Championships, proving that there are things to do in Merritt. This also meant that they got to be my assistant reporters for the day.

First we went for a stroll along Quilchena Ave to have a look at the 50’s Day festivities. (The event was planned as a fun community event to promote the downtown businesses.) We bought some hotdogs and Marie and Cody kindly sat on the sidewalk and waited while I snapped some photos of a hula-hoop contest. After admiring the costumes and cupcakes it was time to move on.

The next item on the agenda was a visit to the Kane Valley to have a look at the Retriever Championships. A thirty-minute drive turned into an hour when we took the scenic route by accident. The directions we got were not incorrect; it’s just that they took us to the wrong side of the Kane Valley, which meant we had a lovely drive along country roads.

One of our greatest amusements along the journey was driving over the cattle guards. I have crossed several in my lifetime without it ever occurring to me that the car was not supposed to bump uncomfortably across the grate. Cody, who is apparently a country boy at heart, quickly figured out that if we lined the car up correctly we could drive smoothly across the tire tracks. It’s a good thing he did, because we must have crossed at least a dozen by the time we reached our destination.

We also discovered that where there are cattle guards there are also cattle. We passed several right at the side of the road and stopped to take some pictures of them. They actually looked pretty mean and glared at us, which made me nervous they might try and charge my car. Luckily they didn’t.

At one point, Marie remarked that our drive reminded her of the song Country Roads and I apologized for not having any John Denver songs at hand. However, Marie discovered that she had reception and so she found the song on YouTube and played it from her iPhone. It helped set the mood of our country drive, but I admit it was comical that we needed the iPhone to fully appreciate the country.

We finally found the championships and once again, Marie and Cody kindly let me spend some time chatting with the chairman and some participants. At one point I lost them though and wandered up and down the dirt road looking for them. I even stopped a lady to ask if she had seen any “city folk” around. I finally found them sleeping on a picnic table.

Finally we drove back to Merritt and ended our day with dinner at the Hitch’N Post, a western restaurant just outside of town. I’m glad my friends are such good sports!

Reporting Live From Merritt

2010-09-12T20:52:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday I loaded everything I could fit into my little car (a task that could only be accomplished using my Tetris skills) and set off for Merritt, British Columbia.

Merritt, located about three hours northeast of my home in Coquitlam, is a small city with a population of approximately 7000 (twice the size of Forks, WA). Though small, even Merritt has its claim to fame. You see it claims the title of “The Country Music Capital of Canada.” I do like country music, but that wasn’t what induced me to move out here. Rather it was a job at the local paper, The Merritt Herald.

As I sit here on a storage container in my little apartment (I don’t have any furniture yet) I still can’t really believe that I’m here. It could be the shock of all of a sudden finding myself in a small town, but maybe it’s the reality that I finally get to be a real life journalist.

When I first got home from my mission in February I was daunted by the task of trying to find a job. I decided to hedge my bets and I enrolled in a TESOL Certificate course through Vancouver Community College. After a very intense month, I was qualified to teach English (to speakers of other languages) and quickly found a job at an English school. Though some of the kids managed to weasel their way into my heart, it wasn’t long before I discovered that teaching wasn’t my calling in life.

Even so, I almost went to Egypt. The subject is still a little sensitive for me, but I was offered a teaching job in Cairo and turned it down. The pay was pretty low, but the real reason I said no was that I didn’t want to put off getting into journalism any more. (That’s not to say I won’t run away to Egypt in the future.)

My teaching contract ended on a Friday. On Monday I prepared for the job hunt – a process I expected to be long and depressing, but I was determined. While I was at my computer I got a tip from a friend that a reporting position was opening up at the Herald. I called the editor and said I was interested in the job. Thursday I drove up to Merritt for the interview and a week later I showed up for my first day of work. And that, my friends, is how I ended up in Merritt. I’d say the timing for all this was pretty miraculous.

Though I’m happy to be back at a paper, I still have some fears about the future (for instance I was told on my first day here that if I stayed in Merritt I would die alone), but I’m sure things will work out.

In the meantime, stay tuned to read about my adventures in Merritt!

Entering the Twilight Zone

2010-08-19T23:07:00.000-07:00

I didn’t want to read Twilight.

I didn’t want to read Twilight because I didn’t want to like it.

Years ago, I didn’t want to read Harry Potter for the same reason. When I finally gave in to the world of wizardry I found myself dressing up for the movies and lining up at midnight for books I had pre-ordered, as well as referencing spells in every day speech.

I finally gave in to Twilight as I guess deep down I always knew I would. Now, four books, a novella, and three movies later, my friend Marie and I found ourselves embarking on a road trip to Forks, Washington.

(Not wanting to be alone in my shame, I had introduced Marie to the literary crack. She ate it up like a newborn vampire thirsting for blood. I fed it to her one book at a time and felt like a dealer every time I gave her a new book.)

When Marie first jokingly suggested visiting Forks I laughed – then I thought, why not? Forks was as good a destination as any for the road trip we were planning and after some research we found that situated on the Olympic Peninsula there were some good camping and hiking spots nearby. To our credit, if we could have gone to England for an Austen tour or a Shakespeare tour, or even a Harry Potter tour we would have, but that was a bit out of our budget, so Twilight it was.

It’s a funny thing when you tell people you’re going to Forks, Washington. As obscure as it is, most people know what you’re talking about (even the ones who make fun of you) and ask, “isn’t that where Twilight takes place?”

Just getting there turned out to be an adventure – we accidentally left on Friday the 13^th (not the safest choice when visiting the home turf of vampires and werewolves). Suffice it to say we missed our intended ferry, had to cancel our hostel reservation and almost slept on a tarp in the forest. Instead we found one of the last remaining motel rooms in Port Angeles and I managed to haggle with the Korean manager and get a $10 discount.

The next morning we had a quick look around Port Angeles and then drove one more hour out to Forks, a town so small if you blink you might miss it. Our first stop was the Chamber of Commerce where we picked up directions for a self-guided Twilight Tour. (Others apparently opted for a more professional tour – the Twilight Tour Bus was close on our heels all morning). We got to the chamber too early and while we waited for it to open, we took pictures by Bella’s red Chevrolet truck parked in the lot. We weren’t the only ones. I was really amused as people of all colours, shapes and sizes began filling that parking lot – some of them (usually males) obviously there by force. We frequently ran into these people at the various tour stops and would occasionally take pictures for each other or ask directions. I guess you could say we were one big happy Twilight family.

The tour took us past the Swan home (some random house on “K Street”), Dr. Cullen’s parking spot at the hospital, Forks High School, Forks City Hall (a building which included the police station, courthouse and probably jail as well), and a bed and breakfast designated as the Cullen Home. The whole thing probably took less than an hour.

More than half the businesses in Forks, La Push and even Port Angeles seem to be capitalizing on the Twilight craze. We saw places like Bella Italia, Dazzled by Twilight, Jacob’s Java and even Twilight Firewood. I suppose you can’t blame them. I’m not sure how they survived economically before Twilight. No wonder they have a day designated as Stephanie Meyer Day (which happens to be on September 13^th, Bella’s birthday, in case you’re curious).

By lunchtime we had completed our Twilight tour and decided to leave the vampire world behind. We drove to La Push, crossed the clearly marked treaty line and were greeted by a sign that read, “The Quileute Tribe welcomes Twilight fans.” We appreciated the warm welcome. We intended to enjoy our stay. We paid fifteen dollars to camp on the beach, set up our tent and enjoyed a baking hot afternoon in the sun (and the water).

The weather was gorgeous all weekend. The only glimpse we got of the usually cloudy, Vampire-friendly landscape was Sunday morning when we woke up to gray skies and thick mist covering the beach. That was our cue to leave. My only regret was not meeting any handsome werewolf boys at La Push.

In the end, despite our efforts to convince ourselves that we were not really Twilighters, when the Canadian border guard asked Marie what the purpose of our visit had been she said, “to visit the Twilight sites.” And I suppose that’s the truth. Just don’t tell anyone.

On the beach at La Push.

A morning walk in Port Angeles.

Finding joy in my journeys

2010-06-25T18:19:00.000-07:00

Confession: I haven’t updated my blog very regularly as of late because I’m afraid of boring my readers (assuming I have any).

I first staked out this little spot of cyberspace as a way to share my Jerusalem experiences and named it fittingly “Journey’s With Jade.” This was all very well when was exploring the Holy Land or revisiting my native country of South Africa but these days I sometimes feel my life doesn’t quite live up to the title.

Luckily President Monson has reminded me to find joy in my every day journeys, and so I will continue to post my experiences on the World Wide Web for those who care to read about them.

For example, here are some things that brought me joy in Utah and Idaho:

Exploring the Salt Lake Cemetery, and visiting the resting places of modern-day prophets.

Attending a Michael Jackson party in Provo where we danced to his music and ate popcorn and popsicles to commemorate the King of Pop. (Note: I did not know it was an MJ party when I showed up.)

Watching South Africa play Mexico in the first game of the World Cup with one of my favourite SA expatriates and her Mexican friends.

Singing songs at midnight to the accompaniment of an old antique piano that had been carried to a third story apartment by thirteen men.

Heading for the beach and ending up at the sand dunes (the beach minus water) where we jumped and rolled in the sand and took lots of pictures.

Walking along some railway tracks and discussing how they metaphorically represented our lives and the choices we make.

* * *

I’m sure I’ll inevitably head off on another grand adventure before too long, but in the meantime I’ll fall back on the old metaphor that life is a journey and try to make the most of it.

Crossing the Line

2010-06-08T10:52:00.001-07:00

Funny how one invisible line on a map can make so much difference. I am thinking in particular of the 49^th Parallel, which unforgivingly divides the US and Canada.

I frequently cross this line (in fact in the last six years I’ve spent more time on the wrong side of the line what with school, mission and play – just don’t mention that to the border guards) but it never gets any easier.

I’m not sure why but border guards and immigration officers all seem to have an uncanny ability to make even the most innocent of people feel guilty. I’m always terribly nervous as I wait for my turn to cross the border – never sure what they might decide to ask or accuse me of. I’m not the only one who experiences this anxiety. My dad has a habit of practicing out loud what he is going to say.

But really, this invisible line is no laughing matter. Last week while my mom and I were waiting to cross the border to go shopping I asked, “Do you think that if I were to get out of the car and start running they would shoot me?” We decided it was better not to find out.

Occasionally I will get by with the simple inquiry – “what is your purpose?” Other times it is not quite so pleasant.

Take today for instance. Here is the just of the interrogation:

Border Guard: What is the purpose of your visit?

Me: I’m visiting some friends in Utah.

BG: How long will you be gone for?

Me: Two weeks. (I then produced my flight information, which he inspected.)

BG: What will you be doing in the US?

Me: Um … visiting friends …. in Utah.

BG: What do you do for a living? (Surprise attack! Oh no, he found my weakness.)

Me: I’m currently unemployed. (Later I realize that I should have said I was a freelance writer and private English tutor, which is true.)

BG: (raises his eyebrow)

Me: I just finished a course and now I am looking for a job. (Trying to justify the burden that I am to society.)

BG: When was the last time you were in school?

Me: May.

BG: How do you support yourself?

Me: With savings and I live with my family.

BG: Your family?

Me: My parents. (Yes ok, I am 25 and I live with my parents.)

BG: What kind of funds are you bringing with you?

Me: Some cash and my credit card.

BG: You will have enough funds to survive two weeks here?

Me: Yes. (Do I look like a homeless person? Brief unemployment doesn’t equal absolute poverty.)

BG: Have you ever had trouble crossing the border?

Me: No. (Not until today.)

BG: All right. You can go.

Last time this happened, the border guard wanted to know how I knew people in Utah. I wanted to tell him it was because I was Mormon. Instead I told him I went to BYU. Seriously, I’m sure they must have bigger problems to worry about than innocent single unemployed young women going for a two week visit to Utah.

Worst-case scenario: I meet a nice young man in Utah. It’s love at first sight. We have a brief two-week courtship and get married.

Trust me Mr. Border Guard. Your country is safe. I will happily return home at the end of two weeks and breath in the fresh Canadian air on my side of the line.

Booty Duty

2010-04-24T00:02:00.000-07:00

It’s not what you think. For the last two weeks I have been volunteering at the Vancouver Temple open house almost every other day. Most days I am in my element as a tour guide, but every now and then I am assigned to be on booty patrol.

In order to keep our brand new temple looking just as pristine as it was the day we first opened the doors the to the public, our guests are asked to wear white plastic booties over their shoes. Certainly not too much to ask, especially when we provide you with someone to actually put the booty on for you. Simply hold onto the bar, lift your foot, and voila! Ready to walk the floors of the temple (with marble tiles from Spain and carpets hand-woven in China)!

So today was my turn for this glamorous job. For six hours, from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., I got to sit in a little chair designed for six year olds, and bent over I got to admire the feet of about a thousand people. Big feet. Small feet. Old feet. Dirty feet. Wooden feet. Yes, in that position, for that many hours, I placed shower cap like plastic bags over the shoes of all of our guests.

At one point one of the ushers came over and asked if we had recently “booted” a Chinese woman and her children (this was during a mad rush of people). We had to apologize and say we didn’t know – unless he could describe what type of shoes they were wearing.

I’ll be honest; at first I wasn’t very thrilled with my assignment. And then I remembered that Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the World, had sat in the same position and washed the feet of his apostles. I was sufficiently humbled. My back still hurt, but I continued my labour with a new attitude. These were the feet of my brothers and sisters.

Their reactions were interesting. Most people were very appreciative. Some were surprised that we would perform such a service. A few were embarrassed and almost wouldn’t let us serve them. This made me sad. Sometimes we become so independent that we don’t let others help us and then slowly we stop helping others.

This experience has made me more determined to forget myself and serve others. And so, I am officially on the look out for more booty duty opportunities (or some variation thereof).

Beautiful British Columbia

2010-04-13T19:25:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make. I am in love with British Columbia. Even though I have been absent for a majority of the last six years – coming home for brief visits only between school, study abroad and missionary work – it is quite evident that the Pacific Northwest still has my heart firmly in her clutches.

Why this sudden public declaration of my love? Well, resolutions to be more fit and few coins to spend have forced me out of doors and helped me re-discover the diverse natural paradise that is my backyard. As a result, I have reached the conclusion that beautiful BC is the best place to live in the world.

As proof, let me feature three different locations each within a fifteen-minute radius of my house.

Minnekhada Regional Park

I had never actually been to this specific trail before, but my parents discovered it while I was away. One morning my mom suggested we go for a bike ride and since then I have run the ten kilometers (there and back along the trail) several times while one or both of my parents rode their bikes. With the Pitt River on one side of the trail and blueberry fields on the other, as well as beautiful snowcapped mountains in the foreground, this little excursion can be quite breathtaking (and not just from the exercise).

Rocky Point Park

We started visiting Rocky Point when we first moved to Canada 16 years ago and have continued visiting ever since. Sometimes we go for ice cream and a leisurely stroll along the pier and other times we go for a longer walk or a run around the inlet to Old Orchard Park on the other side. When it’s low tide you can almost walk right across the inlet (something I have not yet attempted). However, I HAVE participated in the Penguin Swim on New Years Day from this location.

Buntzen Lake (and trails)

Buntzen Lake was also one of the first places we discovered after arriving in Canada. During the summer we would go for picnics and a swim in the lake. Nestled in between mountains, the lake and surroundings have attracted several movie crews – you might recognize it from Lake Placid. There are also several hiking trails around the lake. On Saturday, a friend and I decided to hike Diaz Vistas, which took us up the mountain and gave us ten views of the Indian Arm inlet, with Vancouver and the North Shore mountains in the distance. After five hours of hiking we were ready for some Tim Hortons (also within a 15-minute radius from home)!

There you have it – three reasons why my heart beats for British Columbia. And so, if I roam once more from home, which I am very likely to do, I predict that in the words of John Donne, I will always end where I begun.

Letters Home

2010-03-12T11:17:00.000-08:00

As a missionary, communication with my family at home was limited to emails once a week. In this age of technology, it is very easy for communication to take over our lives and so this “fast” from the internet and cell phones helped us focus on what we were doing as missionaries. Once a week for thirty minutes I would type as fast as possible to try and create a little window into my missionary life for my family to peek through. Below are some silent sound bytes from those emails home:

The Missionary Training Center
• If the Jerusalem Center was Hogwarts, I think this [the MTC] is the equivalent of boot camp. It has been a bit of a hard adjustment to tell you the truth, for day or so there I wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into.
• All week we have been practicing and teaching the first lesson about the Restoration of the Gospel including the fact that we have living apostles and prophets. When I saw President Uchtdorf it made it very real for me -- there in front of me was a living Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Temple Square
• In the MTC, President Uchtdorf told us that as missionaries we are extensions of the twelve apostles, called to preach the gospel.
• I talked to her a bit and then asked her if she would like a copy of the Book of Mormon and testified that it was another testament of Jesus Christ. She said she would like to read it!
• I am trying to work on my Christ-like attributes. So far I think my mission has pointed out all my weaknesses ... but hopefully it will give me the chance to improve myself and turn my weaknesses into strengths.
• On a more positive note, Heavenly Father has sent me some Jews this week! … She put her arm around me and said, "Who would have thought we'd find a Mormon Jewish girl."
• The three of us companions have been getting along well and I have adopted the name of Swartzalolo to fit in with my Tongans, Sisters Tau’a'alo and Taumalolo.
• After I bore my testimony about the Book of Mormon, I asked them if they had any questions. Ahsan, who had seemed very attentive the whole time, said, "Yes, how can I get a copy of the Book of Mormon?" Of course that is the kind of question we want to hear.
• So start praying for me now. I've been praying to go where the Lord needs me, but sometimes I put in a little request to go somewhere east coast or southern. [I got called to Georgia!]

Georgia on My Mind
• I didn't get very far with [the turtle] though because one of its claws touched my hand and I quickly put it down. Not long after that, a guy drove by in his truck and rolled down his window to see what was going on and when he saw the turtle his eyes got wide and he said, "That’s a snapping turtle!" So I don't know exactly what a snapping turtle does, but I guess I'm lucky it didn't snap.
• Things are always interesting in the south. The other day we went tracting [knocking on doors] and in one day we ended up having conversations with an ex-marine, a tattoo artist and an alcoholic.
• From the very beginning of my mission, I was praying that I would be able to experience finding and teaching someone and seeing them baptized. Of course I promised to work as hard as I could and so it is wonderful to see how the Lord will consecrate our efforts.
• I'm happy to preach the gospel and bear my testimony to those who will listen. And I guess I can better understand the apostles like Peter and Paul who rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for Christ.

The End is Near
• Now that I have more of a sense of urgency because my time is getting short, I have to be bolder than before.
• This last week has been a very good one -- full of miracles!

Returning to the real world ...

2010-03-03T15:42:00.000-08:00

After an 18-month hiatus, I decided it was time to update my blog. I’ve been home from my mission for exactly two weeks now. I have put off writing because I wasn’t sure how I could adequately capture the last year and a half in one blog. Of course, that would be impossible, so I won’t attempt it. Instead I will do a short series of mission snapshots to give you a glimpse of my experiences.

Welcome to Temple Square

Nestled in the very center of Salt Lake City is a beautiful 35-acre plot known as Temple Square. This sacred spot of ground was my home for the last 18 months of my life. My assignment as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was to welcome the guests that visited and introduce them to the history and basic beliefs of the Church.

Many people came with very little knowledge about the Church and I loved being able to share our message of hope through the story of the sacrifices of the early pioneers.

You see, the early members of the Church traveled to the Salt Lake Valley in 1847 to escape severe religious persecution. Although the valley was uninhabited and rather barren when they arrived, to the pioneers it was a place where they would finally be permitted to dwell and worship their God in peace. They came with nothing but the few belongings they could fit in their wagons but their hearts were full, knowing that they were being led by God’s chosen prophet.

On a visit to Temple Square, the first structure to catch the visitor’s eye is of course the temple itself. However, this semi-gothic granite building represents more than great architecture – it represents the knowledge the pioneers had that God was in their midst. Knowing that God had again commanded his children to build temples where he could bless them, the pioneers laboured for forty years to complete this house of the Lord.

Every day I was able to stand in the shadow of that holy temple and bear my witness that God loves us today as much as he loved the people we read about in the Bible. But even without my witness, stepping onto the grounds people could feel a sense of peace. One man felt the difference immediately as he stepped inside the gate. It intrigued him and he was seen stepping out, pausing and then stepping back in again. One lady called guest services and asked what kind of air filtration system we had because she had never felt as good as she did when she was at Temple Square.

It is true, that Temple Square can boast of beautiful landscaping, heavenly music and lovely sister missionaries, but I think the peace people feel must be attributed to something else.

Another man who felt something was of the Jewish faith. As I talked to him, he told me he had felt these vibes in very few other places before. One was at the Temple Mount in Jerusalem and the other was at the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron. I found this comparison to be very significant. As members of the LDS church we believe that God has again restored the fullness of his gospel to the earth – the same gospel that he revealed to his ancient people. To me, the feelings of peace I experienced near that holy edifice confirm that.

What a blessing it was to spend 18 months standing on such holy ground.

So long, farewell ...

2008-09-02T12:08:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm just about ready to leave for my mission. I have about an hour before we are going to the airport and I am still taking care of last minute things - thats just the kind of person I am I guess. I fly into Salt Lake City tonight and then tomorrow I will be reporting to the MTC (Missionary Training Center). I will be there for approximately one month and then I will be shipped off to Temple Square. I'm very excited for this opportunity to serve the Lord and teach people a little bit about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I won't be able to access my blog personally, but I plan on sending a few "updates" which my mom will post for me, so check back every month of so if you like.

Thanks for reading the blog!

Lions and hippos and bears ... oh my!

2008-08-17T10:20:00.000-07:00

As it turns out, you don't need to travel to Africa to have wild animals in your backyard. Last week we had a mamma bear and her two cubs pay our backyard a visit. Unfortunately I didn't actually get to see them. We only found out the next day when one of our tenants (who live in the basement suite which is accessed through our backyard) told my dad. It made more sense then why they had been banging pots loudly at eleven o'clock at night when I was trying to go to bed. I guess it was their barbeque that attracted the bears in the first place, but they successfully chased the bears away.

The only evidence that we had bears is a claw mark they left in the plastic foam that covers the legs of our trampeline. So maybe it wasn't the barbeque, but the trampeline that lured those little baby bears over the fence! But seriously, it's not really a good thing to have bears frequenting your backyard. If they've come once, they are likely to come again and can be rather dangerous. Just within the last few weeks there have been some bad bear attacks in the area; one lady was attacked in the middle of the day with she was gardening and barely made it out alive.

Last summer I had a bear encounter of my own when I was going for a morning run. I guess I must have been "in the zone" because I was listening to music and looking straight ahead when I found myself just across the cul de sac from a big black bear. The bear, who was standing up tall eating from a garbage can, had had the advantage of watching me run up the road. When I noticed him, he was looking right at me. I had never really been scared of bears before. Usually when I saw them I was in a car, or at least at a safe distance away. But this was too real and I was terrified. At first I was frozen not knowing what to do and we stood there looking at each other, but when his ears twitched I decided very quickly what to do. I turned round and ran as I have never run before not stopping until I made it back to my house. That's not true. I stopped once at the bottom of the street to inform an Asian lady of the bear up the road. I hope she understood me; I don't know how much English she spoke.

Later on when I told people what had happened someone said, "but you aren't supposed to run away from a black bear are you?" I looked it up and found that if you happen to encounter a black bear, the best thing to do is play dead. To be honest, I acted on instinct and the thought never crossed my mind. But who in their right mind is going to lie down and play dead in a situation like that? I guess I'm just lucky that the bear didn't decide to run after me, because I don't pretend to believe that I could have outrun him.

Anyway, enough on Canadian wildlife. The real reason I am blogging is to post a video my brother took of the wild African lion we saw eating a Kudu, so enjoy!

P.S. I have also added links to my newest facebook photo albums.

Plastic-wrapped suitcases

2008-08-10T21:20:00.000-07:00

Probably the main thing that stuck out to my family during our visit to South Africa was the increase in security. Safety was already a concern when we lived there; burglar bars and security gates covering our windows and doors were a normal part of my childhood, as were the big walls that surrounded people’s homes.

Even though we’d heard reports of how it had only gotten worse, it was still a bit of a shock coming from Canada to see all the precautions that need to be taken to stay safe. For example, almost every home or property is surrounded by an electric fence. At the shopping centres there are guys who are employed to stand in the parking lot and watch the cars. Because they each have their own area to protect, they eagerly direct you to a parking stall when you arrive and then direct you as you back out in hopes of a good tip. And along the highway there are even signs that indicate where the “High jacking hotspots” are. (We had to take drive-by photos of these because of course it would have been unwise to stop there even for the sake of a picture.) Almost everyone has a story of how they were hi-jacked, robbed or held at gunpoint but in spite of this, people adapt and life goes on.

Luckily we came home with only one safety related story and it is a humorous one. At the airport in Johannesburg it has become a “trend” to have your suitcase plastic wrapped to ensure that the items in your suitcase are intact when you collect them at your destination. Before checking in your luggage you visit a wrapping station where you can have your luggage secured at 35 Rand (approximately five dollars) per case.

Unfortunately, on the evening we flew out, the only machines that were working were operated by a particular airline and were for their customers only. After asking a few people if they couldn’t help us anyway, one “wrapper” beckoned for us to follow him. When we were a little way off, he explained he could help us (at 30 Rand per case) but he could only take one suitcase at a time so that he wouldn’t be caught. This airline, you see, offered this service to their customers free of charge, and by doing us this favour he would be earning some pocket money. (His money-making scheme was not unique – all of his co-workers were making similar deals with other people and were trying not to get caught themselves.)

We agreed to the deal, but said that one person needed to come with him to make sure he didn’t walk off with the suitcase. He refused because he didn’t want to get caught and lose his job, however, my Uncle Mark quietly walked to a place where he could keep an eye on our new friend, so we agreed to his terms. Just before he walked away with the first suitcase he said, “Ok, just pretend you’re sitting around or something.” I thought this was quite funny because we were a very large group and therefore we were very conspicuous.

After wrapping each suitcase he tried to be very stealth; he would walk by wheeling the wrapped suitcase and without looking at us, he would leave it in front of us. A few feet further he would turn around and walk back, and as he passed I would have the next case waiting in his path so that he could grab the handle and take it without stopping.

When four of our six bags were wrapped he wanted my Dad to pay him, but we said no, we would pay him when he had finished the last two. He wasn’t happy about that – he wanted to make sure that if he got caught he would still get the money for his efforts. We agreed to pay him part of the sum when all of a sudden he walked off. At first we just thought he was trying another decoy (earlier he had taken one of the bags up to the check-in counter before bringing it back to the machine to try and look less-suspicious), but when he didn’t come back we started to get confused. After a few minutes I looked up and saw him beckoning to us from behind a column a few feet away. Thinking he wanted his half-payment, my brother went to give him the money. But when Kent got there, the guy, obviously distressed, asked him, “Who’s that man?” Kent didn’t know which man he was talking about. “Who’s that man over there?” When Kent realized he was talking about my uncle it took a while to convince him that he was family. He must have seen my Uncle Mark watching him, and he had assumed that Mark was his boss and he was going to get fired.

In the end, we got all six suitcases wrapped, he got his money and I assume he kept his job, and I must admit I was very amused by the whole thing. Not only did no one steal anything from our suitcases but we were able to easily recognize our bags in Detroit and Seattle as they came round the conveyor belt. For some reason no one else had plastic wrapped their bags. And our shuttle driver was quite disgusted that the airline had managed to destroy all of our bags until I explained to him that the bags were fine – we had just flown from South Africa.

Protective electric fences surround most properties.

This photo speaks for itself.

Negotiating with the plastic wrapper at the airport.

The result - my securely wrapped suitcase.

Beware of Hippos

2008-07-29T05:14:00.000-07:00

After fourteen years and three months (and two very long plane rides) I am finally in my homeland of South Africa again. When we first arrived almost two weeks ago, I found things to be familiar yet foreign if it is possible to be both at the same. Now I am getting quite used to being back, although naturally there are many changes both in myself and in the country after such a long absence. For one thing, I’ve discovered how thoroughly Canadianized I am -- asking for ketchup instead of tomato sauce or fries instead of chips, pronouncing my “R’s” like a North American, and having to get used to driving on the “wrong” side of the road. But it’s been such fun becoming reacquainted with family I haven’t seen for more than half my life (which is a little surreal actually) and we’ve also made sure to have a true African experience.

We spent our first week in Hazy View, which is right near the Kruger National Park. We took one day to visit the park and while driving in our car we spotted all sort of animals including rhinos, giraffes, warthogs, and elephants right up close to our car. But we soon found we didn’t even have to visit the Kruger Park to see some animals. We were very amused at some of the warning signs posted around our resort warning us not to swim in the river due to the presence of hippos and crocodile and warning us that a fed money was a dead monkey. Our chalet backed right onto the river and although we were never fortunate to have any monkey visits, we did have some hippos grazing in our backyard after dark. I’m not even joking -- I watched from our patio while a hippo only a few feet away nibbled on the grass. It was quite remarkable. With that said, I was a little nervous to wander along the banks of the river in the day time because a hippo could easily nibble a person in half.

That was not the end of our adventures with animals. One afternoon we went out to Thorny Bush, a private game reserve, and went on a three and a half our safari ride from 3 - 6:30 p.m. Half the fun was riding in the open air Landrover over bumpy dirt roads and through the bush. I had to dodge all sorts of thorn trees and low hanging branches or I might have been knocked out several times. As it was I got stabbed by several thorns and today while I was hanging some clothes to dry I discovered holes in the shirt I was wearing. But I suppose it was worth it because our guide successfully tracked four of the Big Five, though at first I was sceptical. After fifty minutes we had only seen a handful of buck, a pocketful of monkeys, and a whole lot of very large animal droppings. But eventually we found the animals.

One of the highlights was driving slowly right into the middle of a herd of elephant. The elephants were quite comfortable with us and the one kindly showered us with dust as she was cooling herself off nearby. We even got to see her baby suckling. Then just as the sun was setting we watched a white rhino with her two children -- it doesn’t get more African than that. The last animals we saw were three lionesses who were feeding in shifts on a Kudu that they had evidentally just killed. That was pretty amazing as well -- we were only a few feet away! I could even hear the sound of flesh tearing as she ate from the carcass. I admit I felt a little nervous when she paused and looked straight at me because there was really nothing in between myself and a wild lioness. Anyway, watching her I partly lost my appetite, but at the same time I realized I was very hungry as well. By then it was dark and our safari was almost over. When we got back to our own car, our own animal instincts took over and we quickly devoured the rest of our Biltong (South African dried meat).

We are currently at the coast staying at Umhlanga having our relaxing African seaside experience. I have lots of photos which I will post as soon as possible -- unfortunately internet access is limited.

Please Mr. Postman

2008-07-06T21:16:00.000-07:00

Well, the big white envelope finally came, but not without teaching me a little patience. I had calculated approximately how long the mail would take from Salt Lake and I started checking on Monday. I wasn’t too put off when I found nothing there; after all I wasn’t sure exactly what day it had been sent. On Tuesday, I didn’t even bother checking since it was Canada Day and I knew the mailman (or woman) had the day off to engage in patriotic activities. I took Wednesday’s empty mailbox in stride, but by Thursday when there was no sign of the letter I looked for I started to feel, I admit, a little impatient.

In the end, Friday turned out to be a happy Fourth of July, though thoughts of American Independence never crossed my mind. The evening before my dad decided that my mom had better luck and so I should let her check the mailbox. Call it childish, but I wanted to be the one to collect the mail when my call came and so I refused. In the end, my mom secretly checked anyway and then came back to tell me (while jumping up and down) that I should probably check the mail. Whether or not my mom is really good luck, I can’t say, but my call was certainly there waiting for me.

The family quickly assembled (my dad came home from work especially) and I reached my moment of truth. I opened the envelope and found that I have been called to serve as a representative of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the Utah Salt Lake City Temple Square Mission. Naturally, I will accept.

My assignment, although I had joked about it, was a little unexpected. I lived very close to Temple Square and worked in the Church Office Building in 2006 when I did my internship with the New Era, and so I am surprised to be going back. Surprised, but very excited. Salt Lake City is not an exotic land, but the Temple Square mission is unique in that I will be able to share my testimony of the gospel with visitors from all over the world, and I can’t wait. I’ve posted a link (below) to an Ensign article about the Temple Square mission that my friend Andy wrote in case any one is interested in reading it.

Finally, I’m sure that everyone is as excited that I will be able to use my hair straightener as I am. (See previous post)

"Tours and Testimonies" (July 2007 Ensign)

Could today be the day?!

Yes it could!

Oh the suspense ...

Too afraid to look!

"You are hereby called to the Salt Lake City Temple Square Mission ..."

Salt Lake Temple

Where in the world?!

2008-06-24T13:25:00.000-07:00

The most common question I get when I tell people that I’m going on a mission is, “So where would you like to go?” And my typical response (which I’m sure has been slightly frustrating to the inquirer) has been, “I can’t answer that question.” But let me explain:

When I decided to go on a mission, I knew that I had to be prepared to go anywhere. Those who know me understand that this meant being as willing to go to Nebraska, as I would be to hop on a plane bound for the deep jungles of darkest Africa. For others perhaps it is the other way around. A mission in essence is completely unselfish. Therefore I have tried to take my will out of the equation, and I can honestly say I am excited and ready to go wherever the Lord sends me.

With that said, I will answer the question as best as I can. I don’t have ONE particular place in mind, but I love being able to live in foreign places and immerse myself in new cultures (so far I’ve done that in Russia and Israel, besides South Africa, Canada and the USA, of course). Also, I have always wanted a second language and so a foreign speaking mission would be quite convenient. To be more specific, somewhere French or Russian speaking, since I’ve had a start in both languages. But, as I said, I am prepared to go to Nebraska and I believe that God has a sense of humour and so he may well send me there.

I’ve even compiled a list of reasons why I would be happy going Stateside. Here it is:

1. If I open my call and see that I’m going to Nebraska, then I’ll know that’s where the Lord wants me to be.

2. The voltage and plugs will be the same so I will be able to use my Chi hair straightener. (My friend Kristin pointed out that if I went to Russia, I would have poofy hair in all my photographs, which has happened before.)

3. I am quite comfortable using the English language (in fact my career of choice depends upon my ability to communicate in this particular language) and it would be an asset as a missionary to speak in my native tongue.

4. I guess one could argue that for a South African Canadian like myself, the US of A is in fact a foreign country. And depending on where I serve, I may very well have to learn “another language” and celebrate the diversity that is the United States. I have already had one person guess Alabama (though I won’t list his reason since this is a public domain and it wasn’t exactly PC).

5. The mail would be quicker and more reliable. You see, for the most part, snail mail is a missionary’s link to the outside world, and in places like Cambodia or Peru it could very likely take three to four weeks for a letter to arrive. I’ve also heard stories about missionaries arriving at the post office to pick up a package only to find the postal worker wearing their new shirt. (In one case it was a shirt from the missionary’s girlfriend and it had her photo on the front!)

This list is by no means complete. And in fact, if you have any other ideas to add to it, please leave me a comment! As far as a status update goes, according to the Internet my assignment has been made and is probably now in transit.

Example one of poofy hair in Russia.

Example two - proof that I need a hair straightener.

Example three.

Choosing my own adventure ... almost

2008-06-17T23:26:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, I used to love the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books. My mom would read them to my brothers and me before bed, and we took turns “choosing.” If my brother chose poorly and died a gruesome death then it would be my turn to determine my fate through a series of 50/50 choices. The idea of being in control was, I think, very appealing to a kid who had little else to decide besides who to play with during the day and what game we should play (Ninja Turtles or school)?

However, as I grew and had to make decisions of more consequence, that series started to lose it’s appeal and I came to prefer a good old novel, which despite a few troubles along the way, generally ends in happiness for the main character. There lay the real appeal – knowing that after so many life-changing decisions things can turn all right, at least in fiction anyway.

I recently reached a four-way stop of sorts in my life. By returning from Jerusalem and graduating from BYU-Idaho, I had completed my five-year plan and had not yet planned beyond that. The obvious next step was to get a job, but even that presented me with many different options. Did I want to work at a newspaper or a magazine? Did I want to stay in Vancouver or try somewhere else in Canada, the US or Abu Dhabi (where they are apparently in need of journalists)?

And yet somewhere in the back of my mind, another option lingered – I could perhaps serve a mission. A mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints lasts 18 months for women, during which time I would be a full-time representative of the Church. Specific assignments – that is where in the world I would be asked to serve – are made by inspiration.

So I had to decide: missionary or career woman? I thought about it and prayed about it for a while and finally reached the conclusion that I was trying to choose between two good decisions and that I had to choose one and act on it. Unlike a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book, neither would lead to sudden death.

Finally, I have made a decision … come back next week to find out what it is! Just joking. I have chosen to serve a mission, but you really will have to come back later to find out where I’m going. My mission papers are currently in Salt Lake City for processing and when the assignment is made, I will receive a big white envelope in the mail telling me what that assignment is.

I feel very good about my latest “choice” and I am excited to find out where that choice will lead!

An Epilogue to My Jerusalem Tales

2008-05-13T18:09:00.000-07:00

I’ve been home from Jerusalem for exactly two weeks and five days now, and I don’t have a job yet. As a result, I have had plenty of time to reflect on my experience in the Holy Land. I have come to the conclusion that Dr. Seely, my Ancient Near Eastern Studies professor said it best. Wearing his Canterbury Tales tie on an Easter day in Jerusalem, he told us that pilgrimage is not so much about the destination as it is about the journey, the relationships you form and the people you meet along the way.

My journey certainly was a wonderful one, although in the end it was not my own, but a journey I shared with about 80 other people. We started out as complete strangers when we arrived at the airport in Salt Lake City, but somehow within our first few jetlagged, sleep deprived days we became bonded. And over the next few months exploring the Old City together, visiting the pyramids together, studying the scriptures on the shores of the Galilee together, and of course living together, we became more like a family than merely travel companions. (And I have a feeling we will be Facebook friends for life!)

But some of my favourite memories happened when other people’s pilgrimages intersected briefly with ours. (You see, in the Holy Land we like to call other visitors pilgrims rather than tourists.) For example, after waking up at 2 a.m. and hiking to the top of Mount Sinai to see the sunrise, we found we were not the only group seeking a mountaintop experience. As we sang the very appropriate hymn, “How Great Thou Art,” Korean pilgrims sang along in Korean and shared our absolutely spectacular view with us. And we had similar experiences with other people from other lands at other places.

Then of course there was Palm Sunday when we joined with Christians from all over the world and carried palm branches together from Bethphage to St. Annes, remembering Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem all those years ago. On that day, for a few hours, our journey ran parallel to theirs. It happened again on Easter morning when I sat with hundreds of other Christians near the Garden Tomb and sang “O Happy Day,” rejoicing with them that the tomb sat empty and sharing in the knowledge that Christ truly had risen from the dead.

Often we brushed shoulders with those of other faiths as well. Jerusalem is after all the Holy City for more than one religion. There were several Friday nights where we sang and danced with the Jews at the Western Wall to welcome in the Sabbath. I watched them bow towards the wall and touch it and kiss it and I could feel their faith. In the same spirit we had the chance to celebrate Passover and participate in a Seder meal, where we remembered the Exodus from Egypt and the covenant that Jehovah made with the ancient Israelites.

But we also listened five times a day to the Muslim call to prayer and walked with reverence on Al Haram Ash Shariff past the Dome of the Rock and the Aqsa Mosque. And we learned about the Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting, and ate a Ramadan feast.

It was through these experiences with other people that my Jerusalem friends and I were able to better understand what it means to be Christ-like. Jordan put it into words when he said that with Christ it was also more about the journey than the destination. As we walked together in the Holy Land where Jesus walked, we learned together that it was more important to walk as Jesus walked, which in essence was taking the time to stop and show compassion to people along the way.

And so concludes my pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Thank you for indulging me by reading my stories and reflections. I hope that in a small way, you (whoever you are) were able to journey with me. Although, this is by no means the end of "Journeys With Jade."

Sunset by the Sea of Galilee.

Jumping for joy in the Mediterranean Sea.

Real Roman roads! (walking where Jesus walked)

"Special discount for the Mormons"

2008-04-26T16:42:00.000-07:00

Before we arrived in the Holy Land, we were given strict instructions not to talk about our church (the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) or to share our beliefs with those we came in contact with. This restriction is part of the agreement the Church has with the Israeli government – they allow us to have a presence in the Holy Land and to study there and we agree not to proselytize. Sometimes this has been difficult – we are after all encouraged to share our beliefs with people from a very young age – however it has taught me that often actions have power to stand alone.

The people in East Jerusalem certainly know who the Mormons are. I remember how strange it was the first day we walked through the Old City and the merchants greeted us happily with, “Ah, Mormons! Welcome! We give special price for the Mormons.” Granted they knew they could count on our money and so naturally they were happy to have the students back in town, but the fact is they can easily distinguish us from the mass of tourists that walk the streets of Jerusalem daily.

For example, there is Shabaan, a shopkeeper that specially caters to the Mormons by selling leather Jerusalem scripture cases and Hebrew CTR rings among the other general things people look to buy in the Holy Land. Whenever we stop by he quickly passes around plastic cups and pours us each some fruit juice. He told me once this is because he usually offers people tea or coffee, “but for the Mormons we give juice.”

One afternoon a group of us walked into his store and he turned to a customer (from the US) who he was chatting with and said, “These are the Mormons!” She laughed and said, “That’s because you knows them right?” And he said, “No no, we just know.”

After she left the store somewhat confused Shabaan told us about another instance where he surprised someone by being able to point out the Mormons. This person had seen a group of people walking and said, “Ah there are the Mormons.” But Shabaan knowing better had told him they weren’t Mormons. When the group of people approached, the man asked them if they were Mormons, and they said they were not (I wish I could have seen their reaction to such a random question). A few minutes later Shabaan pointed to a group and said those are the Mormons, and by the same test proved he was right. Shabaan then explained to us, “We can tell by your faces.”

On another occasion I had an experience that would make every missionary jealous – a man asked me for a copy of the Book of Mormon. Unfortunately I had to pass up this once in a blue moon moment.

It was a cold and somewhat rainy day in Jerusalem and I stepped into a little coffee shop and ordered some hot chocolate. While waiting for the shopkeeper to prepare it, chatted with a man who was sitting at another table. He asked if we were Mormons and then asked us if he could have a copy of our holy book. With much regret we had to tell him that we weren’t allowed to give him one. He kept pushing though and asked us why not. I tried to explain that we had promised the government that we wouldn’t and therefore we couldn’t share our book with him. People always have a hard time understanding why we are not allowed to talk about our church, and of course it is hard for us to refuse to share our beliefs especially when they try to coax us into disregarding the agreement, but as representatives of the Church we can’t afford to do so.

All we could do was apologize to the man in the coffee shop that day. As we got up to leave though, another man stopped us at the door and looking at the cup I held in my hand, he said, “I thought Mormons don’t drink coffee.” Luckily I was able to assure him it was hot chocolate. Here was proof that even though we couldn’t share a Book of Mormon, we could represent who we were by our actions because we were certainly being watched.

As of Thursday night, I am home in Canada with no more restrictions on what I say to people but already I miss the greetings like the one shopkeeper who sang to us as we walked by, “Hello Mormons, we support you, don’t forget us, I’m the man for you.”

This is Abdul - he owned the corner store down the street and was very nice to us Mormon students.

Shabaan owns the Ali Baba BYU Store in the Christian Quarter of the Old City.

BYU-Jerusalem Students Go to Hell

2008-04-09T14:03:00.000-07:00

I can officially say that I have been to hell and back. Ironically I met some of the kindest people in hell and it was a rather pleasant experience. But lest you start to worry about my eternal salvation, I ought to tell you that hell is a very real place in Jerusalem.

Just below Mount Scopus (where I live) lies the Kidron Valley, and if you follow it the Kidron Valley meets with the Hinnom Valley at the base of the City of David. Our English idea of hell corresponds to the word “Gehenna” which is the Greek equivalent of the “valley of Hinnom.” According to the LDS Bible Dictionary, the Hinnom Valley is “a deep glen of Jerusalem where the idolatrous Jews offered their children to Moloch” (a pagan god). Later this glen was used as a place for burning garbage and thus it became symbolical of torment. You probably have never considered where the term hell-fire came from, but now you know!

And so partly out of curiosity and largely to earn the bragging rights, I set out with eight friends on a journey to hell. As a side note, we thought it would be funny if we all wore the soccer jerseys we bought in Egypt and so we all matched and took some team photos along the way.

In the Holy Land, you cannot go anywhere without finding reminders of the past, and so as we walked through the Kidron Valley we stopped to explore some tombs that we found along the way including the tomb of Absolom (son of David). I always feel like Indiana Jones when I’m feeling my way through small dark space though I generally turn back when I start to feel cobwebs. (Don’t worry; these tombs are usually empty of their former inhabitants.) Juxtaposed with the tombs, there was also much to indicate that life goes on in the valley. Herds of goats grazed on the hillside while the goat herders reclined lazily in the shade watching them and further down the path kids played games near a corner store. And to complete the picture, a group of Americans (and two Canadians) wearing matching Egypt jerseys walked by snapping pictures as they went.

When we finally got to hell, which was surprisingly hard to find, we met a very nice Palestinian man named Ahmud. He asked us where we came from and told us a little bit about himself and then invited all nine of us to come to his house, which was across the street – keep in mind that most Palestinian homes are very modest in size. Outside his home, Ahmud introduced us to his grandkids and then showed us around his garden, breaking off shoots from one tree for us to take home, which he gave to us in a potted plant. Unfortunately his wife then came out with little cups of tea for us and we had to refuse and try to explain in broken English why we couldn’t accept it. They both looked a bit upset and he said that for an Arab it is forbidden to turn down something like that when you are at someone’s house. We tried to explain that we don’t drink tea for religious reasons and I hope that he understood.

He soon cheered up again and we sat on chairs outside his house and listened to him tell us about his family. He also told us why he did not like George Bush, which we tend to hear quite often. He also told us that the Arabs are good people and that their hearts are white and not black and asked us to tell people when we go home (and so I am telling you now). He also said the Jews are his brothers and that the conflict was originally because of outsiders interfering in the Middle East. Before we left we sang him a song and thanked him for inviting us to his home.

On our way home, we took a short cut through the Orson Hyde Garden on the Mount of Olives and then through a field above the garden. There under some trees we found a large group of Palestinians sitting on blankets having a picnic. They called us over and invited us to eat some meat as they asked us where we were from. We didn’t stay long but we did share some of their food and a few friendly words in broken English and a few hearty “thank you’s” in Arabic (it’s one of the only words I know).

It amazes me that these families would stop a group of strangers passing by and invite them to share their food. Granted we were wearing matching clothes and probably looked a bit unusual, but at home that would never happen. I have been very impressed at the generosity of the Palestinian people. They don’t have very much – Ahmud in his run down little house and the family with their blankets and old barbeque – but they are willing to give so much. I think that we, who have so much in comparison, have to learn to be more like these Palestinians who have a true sense of who their neighbours are. I hope that through our interactions with them, the people here in Israel will also sense our sincerety.

Overall, I think our PR tour for the Egyptian soccer team turned out to be largely successful.

P.S. I have added the links to my Facebook photo albums so that those without Facebook can view more of my photos. Just click on the album title and it should take you right there. One of them includes photos from my trip to Galilee. Enjoy!

The team next to Absolom's tomb.

Walking through the Kidron Valley.

Our new Palestinian friend Ahmud.

Easter in Jerusalem

2008-03-22T14:50:00.001-07:00

Spring is finally here in Jerusalem and it is gorgeous! (Actually, the spring weather here is more like summer weather at home in Vancouver and so I am quite content). Yesterday halfway through our Ancient Near Eastern Studies class, our professor took us outside to the lawn overlooking the city and invited us to sit down and take in the view. While we sat on the grass among pretty purple and red poppies he told us how lucky we were to be here in Jerusalem during the springtime and for Easter. (Yesterday of course was Good Friday.)

Easter in Jerusalem is beautiful – the weather has warmed up and flowers are blooming. I can even smell that sweet smell of spring in the air that is like pressing your face up to a fresh bouquet of flowers.

While we were taking in the sights and sounds and smells, Professor Seeley reminded us how symbolic everything was. Spring is a time to celebrate life and so is the Easter holiday. Though at Easter we solemnly remember Christ’s sacrifice, we also rejoice in the resurrection and the knowledge that he lives, which is very easy to do when we are absolutely surrounded by new life.

And really this experience is not something that can be duplicated. For example, yesterday my friend pointed out to me that from where we stood outside, we had a view of Calvary (both possible spots actually) where at that very hour so many years ago, Christ would have hung on the cross. And to our left was the Garden of Gethsemane where Christ would have prayed the night before. It all took place right here! I still can hardly comprehend it.

Then at three o’clock yesterday as I was outside studying, the church bells began to ring loudly from the Augusta Victoria Tower behind our building, signalling the hour of Christ’s death. You know I didn’t get any chocolate this year or go on any Easter egg hunts, but experiencing this time of year in Jerusalem will make all my Easters to come far more meaningful.

Tomorrow we are going to wake up very early and make our way to the Garden Tomb so that we can participate in the sunrise service. After that we will be boarding a bus and heading off to Galilee for ten days. And so, with that, I should probably go to bed, but I hope that everyone reading this has a wonderful Easter!

Palm Sunday, and a little town called Bethlehem

2008-03-18T14:09:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, I joined a Palm Sunday processional with Christian pilgrims from around the world. Together we walked from Bethphage to Jerusalem to commemorate Christ’s entry into the city the week before he was crucified. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and sunny – even hot – and as we gathered to start the processional Palestinians sold palm fronds to carry as we marched. Among our group at least, it became somewhat of a competition to see who could find the biggest branch. Mine was not very large, but it braided and crinkled, and I thought it looked unique.

There really were a lot of people, many of who had come to Jerusalem for Easter and to participate in the walk. It was fun to try and pick out as many languages as we could. I heard Russian, French, Polish, Spanish and English among others. Some groups wore bright yellow caps to recognize each other as many tour groups do, and others just blended in as we did. But no matter what language or denomination, it was special to be with thousands of people who have a similar belief in Christ.

The walk, which takes about half an hour under normal circumstances, probably took about two hours with the crowd. We walked down streets that were sometimes narrow and all I could see around me were people’s heads and palm branches – that’s the trouble with being short – however as we rounded a corner and the road sloped down I got a glimpse of the beautiful Dome of the Rock and the Old City as well as the throng of people snaking towards it.

The processional was definitely a joyful one, just as it would have been joyful when Christ rode into Jerusalem on a donkey and the people welcomed him as their Messiah. Our walk ended at Saint Anne’s church, which is along the Via Dolorosa and we mingled and danced to the live music that was being broadcast over loudspeakers. Someone described it as a Christian version of Woodstock, which I thought was rather accurate (minus the drugs of course). Nevertheless, my Palm Sunday experience in Jerusalem will be one that I will never forget.

BETHLEHEM
After celebrating the last week of Christ’s life on Sunday, today we went back to the very beginning in Bethlehem. We weren’t sure at first if we would be allowed to go to the West Bank because there have been strikes in response to the four political leaders that were recently killed in Bethlehem, but security decided we would be safe.

We started by visiting Bethlehem University with our Modern Near Eastern Studies teacher, Professor Adnan Mussalam who works there. Bethlehem University is fairly small – just under three thousand students – but it is internationally accredited and serves both Muslims and Christians. My favourite part of our tour was a question and answer forum with four of the students. It was definitely eye opening to get their perspective and to hear what daily life is like in Palestine. For example, for those who have to commute from say, Hebron, it can take up to two hours with checkpoints, which are always unpredictable. Overall, though it was clear they have grown up under occupation, they say they have to be optimistic.

We then went over to Nativity Square where we visited the oldest standing church in the Holy Land, built in the traditional spot of the grotto or stable where Christ was born. To be honest, at first I was a little bit disappointed. The church is very orthodox in style and when we went down to the grotto I felt nothing. They mark the spot where Christ was born and where the manger was but I couldn’t help but feel sceptical that that was the place. On the other side of the church is another small cave that felt a little more authentic and we had a chance to sing a few hymns – Christmas carols actually – and that made it a little bit better. I had also passed a mass and heard the congregation singing hymns, and I realized that it wasn’t so much about where the exact spot was where Christ was born, but that his message was still very much alive and that people are still coming to know him.

To conclude our day, we went to a little shepherd’s field where we ate our picnic dinners and then heard the Christmas story in approximately the same place the shepherds would have been when the angel appeared to them and declared to them glad tidings. Then shivering, because it was very chilly at night, we sang Christmas carols by starlight on a Judean hillside – not an experience many people get to have. Normally I refuse to sing Christmas Carols out of season, but tonight was well worth making the exception.

We had to buy some palms for Palm Sunday! I didn't win the tallest palm contest, but looks like Dave came close.

I made some new friends, including a priest from Tanzania who is here studying the bible.

A nun singing as she walked in the procession.

A crowd of Christians.

Look closely and you can see Jerusalem in the background.

Visiting Jordan

2008-03-09T15:07:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have heard about the shooting at the yeshiva in West Jerusalem and are curious about our security situation, we are currently on “lockdown” at the Jerusalem Center until further notice. Our security and administration will assess the situation on a day-by-day basis and let us know when they feel it is safe for us to once again roam the city by ourselves (in groups of at least three that is). However we are still allowed to go on approved outings. For example on Friday we went to Eilat to go snorkelling in the Red Sea (which was lovely) and tonight we are still going on our tour of the Cotel Tunnel (an archaeological tunnel underneath the Western Wall). So we are safe – and we have plenty of homework to keep us busy in the mean time – but we are praying for the peace of Jerusalem.

On a happier note, last week we went on a four day trip to Jordan and so now I can cross another country off my list of places to see before I die. As in Egypt there were many ancient sites to see and activities to do, so here is my list of highlights:

1. Touched the River Jordan. As usual my River Jordan experience would not have been complete had I not got my fingers wet. For some reason just looking in not satisfying enough – I could see as much by watching a documentary – but by actually touching the River Jordan or the rocks of the Great Pyramids my experience becomes tangible. Luckily my Ancient Near Eastern Studies professor feels the same way and he secretly encourages us to touch as much as we can, though today he told us that paintings were off limits. But to get back to the point, I did dip my fingers in the Jordan River and stand on its banks at the place where it is very likely that Christ was baptized by John the Baptist. Almost everywhere else in Jordan it was brown, but by the river it was green, which is somewhat symbolic I suppose.

2. Stood at the top of Mount Nebo. The view we had from the top of Mount Nebo was the same one Moses had when he had his first glimpse of the Promised Land. Unfortunately for Moses he was not allowed to enter the land of Canaan himself. From that point we could see straight across the Jordan River valley to Jericho and even to the mountains near Jerusalem. Overlooking the desert, the land didn’t exactly look like a land of milk and honey, but luckily I have also seen the green valleys of the Shephelah.

3. Followed the footsteps of Indiana Jones. Unfortunately this ancient Nabatean city carved into rock – one of the world wonders – is best known for its appearance in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Nevertheless it was exciting to walk through the ancient gorge and view the magnificent carvings, which showed Greco-Roman and Egyptian influence. One of my highlights of Petra – and maybe the whole trip – was my donkey ride up the mountain to view the monastery. That was five dollars well spent if you ask me. Donkeys are such sorry looking animals and at first I was scared I would break my donkey’s back but it carried me all the way to the top of the mountain. I walked back down and on the way I stopped to barter for jewellery and talk to the cute little Bedouin kids. And finally to end my Petra adventure, I got to ride a horse like good ol’ Indy himself.

4. Wrestled on the banks of the River Jabbock. This was where Jacob wrestled with the angel of the Lord and with the Lord’s help was able to prevail. Naturally we all had to take pictures wrestling on the banks of the same river. Unfortunately the photos will have to suffice because this time we were expressly warned not to even touch the polluted water.

5. Visited the ruins of Jerash. I’ll be honest, I didn’t really know what Jerash was until we got there, but I discovered it to be an old roman city in very good condition compared to others. We explored the ruins, which included temples to Zeus and Artemis and got to play in an old Roman theatre. We then paid eighteen dollars to watch a gladiator show in the old Hippodrome. They demonstrated army formations, staged a few gladiator battles, and rode chariots around the stadium. To be honest, it was a little over priced and I would have to say that watching Ben Hur is more exciting, BUT I was in Jordan and I had fun.

6. Bought some cheap DVDs. A strange thing to add to my list of highlights I know, but I think for many people this was definitely a highlight considering how many movies were purchased. Word got around the group that a little shop in Amman sold pirated movies (this is not illegal in Jordan by the way) and I think every body paid them at least one visit. Personally I only purchased five movies – others probably bought close to twenty. I would be interested to see how many we bought collectively. We gave them good business anyway and now we have something to do during lockdown!

Touching the River Jordan.

A little Bedouin kid trying to sell me a rock for a dollar at Petra.

I rode a donkey up a mountain to see this monastery at Petra.

At the Jabbock River we weren't allowed to touch the water so we re-enacted the Bible instead. But really Russell is beating me up because I'm wearing that silly blue pouch.

The rest of my class dancing in a Roman theater at Jerash. It almost looks like a pagan ritual.

Getting both sides of the story

2008-03-01T12:00:00.000-08:00

** Unfortunately being a student and a traveler means not having very much spare time and since budgeting my time wisely has never been a forte, I haven’t been able to update my blog as often as I would have liked. So I apologize. **

One of the purposes of our Near Eastern Studies program here in the Holy Land is to educate us on the current conflict here – in addition to our biblical studies – by exposing us to each of the different narratives, both Israeli and Palestinian. Before we left to come here, our program director Jim Kurl said that he has been coming here for many years and he still can’t seem to take a side. He concluded by asking us to be open-minded, and that has been my goal. What I am finding is that it really is impossible to take a stand on one side over the other. Every time I have insight into a new narrative I find the pendulum of my opinion swinging back and forth.

For example, we recently visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial here in Jerusalem. As the museum walked us through the Jewish experience from pre WWII through the terror of the Holocaust and concluded with the story of Zionism and the creation of a Jewish national homeland, I couldn’t help but sympathize. In fact it was very emotional to watch a video of children singing Hatikva, the Jewish national anthem while I was standing on the soil of a real Jewish state. And yet, in that moment I forgot that before Israel was Israel it was Palestine, and the Palestinians who still live here, no longer have a state of their own.

The media in North America tends to be rather biased with regards to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the picture we get of the Palestinians is not very favourable. But here at the Jerusalem Center, it is the Palestinians who are our neighbours since we live in the Palestinian east side of Jerusalem. The majority are very friendly and welcoming and a number of students have been invited into people’s homes for meals.

Every now and then we have speakers visit our campus to give a forum and so far we have heard from the American perspective, the Israeli perspective and just recently from the Palestinian perspective. It was very interesting to listen to Dr. Sabella, an elected member of the Palestinian Parliament speak to us. What he focused his talk on was helping us understand that Palestinians are real people concerned about getting on with their daily lives and that what they want is peace. He also stressed that Palestinians are very educated people, which I have noticed myself. The little kids who live across the street speak Arabic but they study Hebrew, English and French in school. Already they speak more languages than I do (which is not hard since I only speak one).

Unfortunately Dr. Sabella was not very optimistic about a resolution to the conflict, which by the way he stressed was political not religious. He said at the moment they just don’t have the right ingredients for peace. Finally he said, “If you want to work for a better world, you need to understand both sides.” And that is what I am trying to do during my stay here in this conflict-riddled land.

I believe that in order to understand both sides it is necessary to move beyond talking merely about political ideologies and get to know the people, who they are and what they believe. This week I had several chances to do that. On Thursday night we celebrated Ramadan – at least we simulated a Ramadan meal since it isn’t really Ramadan. We had a speaker come in and talk to us about how Muslims fast from dawn until sundown every day of the month. But it is more than just abstaining from food – rather it is a way to develop discipline as they renew their contract with Allah. It was nice to learn more about the spiritual aspect. After the speaker we feasted on traditional food and then learned a traditional Palestinian folkdance.

Following our night of Muslim feasting, I went to a Friday night synagogue service the next evening. Our Jewish studies teacher had kindly arranged for us to attend. We dressed in our Sunday best, and the boys wore yarmulkes out of respect, and we made it there just in time as the sun was setting. During the service, which consisted mainly of hymns from the prayer book (sung in Hebrew of course), the men and women sat separately. It was very nice to finally get to participate in a synagogue service. It would have been nicer if I had been able to sing along, but alas, I cannot read Hebrew (yet).

I guess what I’ve discovered so far is that it’s not necessary to take a firm stance on one side over the other, but as Dr. Sabella said it is necessary to understand both sides of the story. I hope to continue to do that through first hand experience.

Me and my little Palestinian friends.

Ramadan feast - and the reason I am getting fat.

Me and my friend Lyle of Arabia.

Heading out to the city.

Dave and I after synagogue. We thought we fit the part quite well.

Snow Day

2008-02-19T10:19:00.000-08:00

This morning we woke up to an almost white Jerusalem. It seems the weather report was accurate because the snow they predicted definitely came. Not that were was much snow – it was rather slushy actually – but it still snowed none the less. Yesterday we were warned that even the lightest snowfall shuts down the city because it is such a rare occurrence in Jerusalem, and they are unprepared for it. As a result we had a snow day today.

For all students (elementary through college) snow days are extremely exciting, exciting except when you live in the same building as your teachers of course. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it) Arabic and our Palestinian studies classes were cancelled because those teachers couldn’t make it but our Old Testament and Ancient Near Eastern Studies classes were not.

Some people were very excited to see snow, but I could have done without it. It certainly is a novel experience to see snow in Israel, but it is cold and wet and as close to miserable as it can get in the Holy Land. Unfortunately we have to walk through outdoor corridors to get to our rooms and so I have to splash through puddles and get dripped on if I want to go back and forth. However, it gave me a good excuse to stay inside and catch up on things that need catching up such as my homework and my blog of course.

I did make it out beyond the walls of the Jerusalem Center yesterday though. In the morning I went with three other people to see some Bar Mitzvahs at the Western Wall, which we found out from our Hebrew teacher happen every Monday and Wednesday morning. We had to be back for class at 9:30 a.m. so we left early and got there just after 8 a.m. A Bar Mitzvah is a coming of age ceremony that indicates boys (or girls) are now responsible for their actions especially in regards to keeping the commandments.

At the wall, James was the only one who could go to where the Bar Mitzvahs were, however by going down to the women’s side of the wall and looking through the fence we could see most of what was going on. There were some boys, I assume they were 13, who were at a table tying on their tefillin and then they started praying or reading Torah with the Rabbis who were wearing prayer shawls. There was a woman next to me also trying to look through the fence and she said it was her son’s Bar Mitzvah. She was from Las Angeles and it sounded like they had traveled to Jerusalem with the Bar Mitzvah in mind, which I thought must have been quite special for the boy. We couldn’t stay for long because we had to get back for class but it was nice to witness and I always like visiting the Western Wall.

I woke up this morning to find Jerusalem snow outside on my patio.

I wasn't very happy about having to walk outside in the slush to get to class.

Prayers at the Western Wall.

A boy is getting ready for his Bar Mitzvah.

"And the walls came a tumblin' down"

2008-02-13T03:52:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking about it, and I think that our educational experience here at the Jerusalem Center is very much like a “Magic School Bus” experience. It’s been a very long time since I watched that show, but I remember each episode the students got to experience firsthand whatever subject they were learning.

It is something unique to be sitting in class discussing how King David established his capital in Jerusalem, which Solomon expanded to include the temple and then to look out of the window to my left and be able to see the Old City of Jerusalem and Temple Mount. Granted of course the city has been rebuilt several times, but the general landscape is the same, and if you know where to look (or have archaeologist professors to point things out for you) you can still find remnants of the past.

But my studies have not been confined to the classroom. Last week for instance we boarded our “mobile classrooms” as Brother Draper likes to call our buses, and went on two different fieldtrips to places that corresponded to what we are learning.

On Wednesday we visited the ancient tell of Jericho. (A tell is a hill or I suppose an archaeological mound.) Among other things we studied the story of when Joshua’s army surrounded the city and the walls came tumbling down. There wasn’t much left to the untrained eye, but once again we were lucky to have professors who helped us “feel the magic of the tell” and showed us remnants of buildings from various civilizations that were visible in the layers of the trenches. We even got to see what may have been the remnants of the wall that fell during Joshua’s time. In any case we got to blow the rams horn and sing “Joshua fit the Battle of Jericho” which was fun. (By the way, as a side note, Jericho is both the oldest city in the world and the lowest city on the earth.)

On Friday we went on a Judges/Philistines fieldtrip and visited the five valleys in the south western hill country of Judea. The highlight of these would have to be the Elah Valley where David fought Goliath. Once again we discussed the biblical account and then we had a re-enactment. The two Jordans in our class were Goliath (one sat on the other’s shoulders) and Davey was David. It was fun to be there in the field right next to the creek where David found the stones, and to watch Davey defeat Goliath (and with an authentic David sling). After that we all got to try our hand at the slingshot, although forty students with bad aim all slinging rocks at the same time sounded a bit risky to me. As far as I know, only one person actually got hit.

And so there you have it. The only way to improve this experience would be to travel back in time and actually watch the events take place. As it is, thanks to our magic school buses we’re experiencing the Bible as close to firsthand as possible.

Emily and I at tell Jericho. If you look closely behind us you might find some stone remnants of the wall from Joshua's time.

Our David and Goliath battle in the Valley of Elah.

Bethany is sacrificing me at Tel Lachish. Lachish was one of the Israelite strongholds that was defeated by the Assyrians.

James and I entering the ark two by two. This was not from our fieldtrips, but on an outing at the zoo.

Into the Mummy’s Tomb (and Other Egyptian Adventures)

2008-02-05T12:11:00.000-08:00

I remember one summer just after we moved to Canada when almost every book I took out of the library was about Ancient Egypt. My fascination with this ancient civilization continued throughout elementary school, middle school and high school. My particular favourite was the story of Tutankhamen and Howard Carter’s discovery of his tomb. I even dressed up at Tutankhamen’s wife for Halloween when I was in grade five (unfortunately most people confused me with Cleopatra). Since that time, visiting Egypt was very near the top of my list of places to visit before I die, and last week I crossed it off my list. We spent eight glorious days in Egypt including Cairo, Luxor and Sinai, and I was able to cross many more things off my subcategory list of “things to do in Egypt before I die.” Here are the highlights:

1. Looked upon the face of Tutankhamen. While we were in Luxor one of the places we visited was the Valley of the Kings where many of the ancient pharaohs were buried. The valley lies on the west bank of the Nile which was symbolic to the ancient Egyptians since the sun rose in the east and set in the west each day. The Valley of the Kings was especially exciting to me because it was here that the tomb of Tutankhamen lay hidden for thousands of years until Howard Carter’s water boy discovered the first stone step, and now finally I was able to descend those steps myself. The tomb looked a little bit different from what I expected only because in the pictures it was still full of treasure and now it is empty except for a class case containing the mummy and one of his gold coffins. Apparently we were very lucky to be able to see Tutankhamen himself since it was only just recently that they moved him back into his tomb. He was such a little guy (compared to the other pharaohs such as Ramses II who I saw in Cairo) and yet the discovery of his treasure was perhaps the greatest archaeological find of all time. I also got to see all of his treasure including his famous gold death mask at the Cairo museum and it was even more beautiful to see it in person. It is probably because of this chance to see Tutankhamen and all his glory that I can now die happy.

2. Stood beside the Great Pyramids of Giza. When we first arrived in Cairo it was evening and the sun was just setting. I remember at one point I looked up and I thought “oh, there are the pyramids.” Then I realized that the great pyramids were actually in front of me and I got very excited. It was beautiful and quite fitting to watch the sun set behind the pyramids on my first night in Cairo. The next morning we actually went to see the pyramids and we got to go inside one of them. As I was hunched over descending the dark tunnel of the pyramid, I stopped to quickly kiss the wall, so now I can say that I kissed the pyramids! I also touched the ancient stones on the outside of the pyramid. Before I came to Egypt there were people who told me the pyramids were a bit of a disappointment but I wholeheartedly disagree.

3. Got caught in an Egyptian sandstorm. First let me start by saying that it only rains in Cairo about twice a year. So naturally it rained on one of the days that I was there. When it wasn’t raining that day it was as windy as anything, which of course means a sandstorm in the desert. It was particularly windy when we were visiting the step pyramid at Saqqara, which is why I was wearing a headscarf and sunglasses to keep the sand out of my eyes. Even so I managed to get sand absolutely EVERYWHERE. I won’t go into details, but that night as I was getting ready for bed I was still finding dessert sand in my clothes.

4. Rode a felucca down the Nile. While we were in Luxor we got to take a lovely boat ride on the Nile. The Nile River itself is not quite as clean as it once was and we were expressly warned not to jump in not matter how badly we wanted to tell people back home that we had swam in the Nile (one professor told us to think of our first born child and refrain). I did however lean over and touch the Nile (for the same reason I kissed the pyramid) but I made sure to use hand sanitizer afterwards.

5. Rode a camel in Egypt. I actually rode two camels in Egypt. The first one was at the pyramids and was a very short ride. The guide walked the camel a few steps, took some pictures for me and then glared at me when I only tipped him a dollar. Those guys can be pretty tricksy. I have a few photos of me with an Egyptian guy who jumped in the photo, posed and then had the nerve to ask me for a “baksheesh” or tip. Anyways, the second camel ride in Luxor was a lot more enjoyable. Madison and I rode a camel named Bob Marley and we were led by a kid named Ahmet or something like that. The ride took us through the more rural areas of Luxor which was very interesting to see. My favourite was greeting all the little kids who and come to the roadside to see the “Americans” ride by. I was a little sore the next day though.

6. Climbed Mount Sinai. On our last day in Egypt we followed the path of the Exodus back to Jerusalem and we stopped overnight in Sinai. We then woke up at 2 in the morning in order to hike Mount Sinai in time to see the sunrise from the top. It really was an amazing experience. We hiked in the dark and the stars above us were absolutely brilliant – probably the brightest I’ve seen in my entire life. We also visibly watched the moon rise over the crest of the mountain. And I can’t adequately describe the sunrise from the top, but it was gorgeous. As we waited for the sun to rise completely we sang some hymns and were joined by some Korean tourists who sang along in Korean. (I loved the fact that there were Asian tourists even at the top of Mount Sinai.) I had lots of favourite experiences in Egypt but Sinai was probably my most spiritual experience.

I'm actually a descendant of the Sphinx. Can you tell?

A lovely camel ride past the pyramids.

Caught in a sandstorm by the step pyramid. See how windy it is?

Admiring the Karnak Temple.

Trying to fall into the Nile.

Hogwarts - Jerusalem Style

2008-01-26T08:43:00.000-08:00

I suppose I should paint a bit of a picture of the BYU-Jerusalem Center where I live, eat, attend school and church, and where I hang out in general (when I’m not exploring Jerusalem). It is because the building functions in all these capacities that I often feel like I’m living at Hogwarts – only here we study religion instead of sorcery. I mentioned this comparison at dinner a few nights and everyone at my table laughed and agreed with me.

It began the first night we arrived when the buses pulled up to the Center and the lights of Jerusalem shone before us (much like those of Hogsmeade did for Harry and his friends). Granted we had no horseless carriages, but the building before us with its limestone arches was just as magnificent as the medieval castle of Hogwarts.

The Jerusalem Center sits at the top of Mount Scopus, right next to the Mount of Olives and has eight different levels, which means lots of stairs, although luckily ours like to stay put. The bottom five levels house the living quarters, teachers and service couples on the fifth floor and students on the third and fourth floors (the bottom two are currently empty). The first floor houses the main auditorium where we hold our church meetings. However, this is also where the center holds concerts once a week for the community. The seventh floor has the administrative offices and the sixth floor – our favourite – has the classrooms, computer room, student lounges, gym and most important, the Oasis, our student cafeteria.
The Oasis, our Great Hall equivalent, was our first stop that first night in Jerusalem where they fed us generously (and where they continue to feed us generously three times a day). Our food does not appear mysteriously on the tables, but it appears in abundance and variety in the serving area where the cooks always try to give us more than we want. One day after lunch one of the cooks asked me if I liked the food and I told him that I did and I was going to get fat. To this he smiled widely and said, “Good!” Luckily I’ve been walking my feet off around Jerusalem.

After dinner that night we were “sorted” into our two religion classes. This is the group that we travel with on field trips, and if there was such a thing as Quidditch here in Jerusalem our classes would most certainly be rivals. But since there isn’t we get along just fine (which is a good thing considering all three of my roommates are in the other class).

Now that we have been living here at the Center for over two weeks, though it seems like we’ve known each other for a lot longer, we have comfortably settled in. When we are not in class or eating or sleeping, I can most often find people hanging out in the “common room” area doing homework or just relaxing. The common room has a loft, a movie area with comfy beanbag chairs, a few tables for homework and our snack bar, which has been dubbed the Holy City Hot Spot. Luckily the snack bar is only open for one hour each night. Unluckily, they allow us to buy things on tab. I try not to get anything unless I have my shekels with me, because it can be dangerous when I crave chocolate at night and they are willing to hand it over to me for “free.”

It is quite a new experience being with a group of 80 students who practically live together and do almost everything together. We all have the same homework and you can tell when there is a test the next day before everyone is up late in the student lounge/computer rooms, but even that is nice because we are all going through the same thing. At meals, I usually sit down at the first seat available, which means I eat meals with different people, all the time and this has been the best way to get to know everyone. Even more unusual though is the fact that our professors live here as well and so we are able to interact with them beyond the classroom. If I feel this close to everyone already I can only imagine how it will be at the end of four months especially because we are exploring the Holy Land together.

I suppose it wouldn’t really be like Hogwarts if we didn’t feel secure. Instead of spells though, we have a wonderful team of security guards and practical security measures that keep us safe. Whenever we leave the grounds we have to swipe an ID card, which indicates that we have left and when we return we do the same thing to check in. We also carry cell phones with us whenever we leave, which allows the Center to contact us in case of an emergency or for us to contact them if we run into trouble. They are also very strict about rules such as not being allowed in East Jerusalem after dark, which means that you have to be careful in your calculations of how long it takes the sun to set (believe me I know) but this are all good things. So, although we do live in a troubled land, I feel completely safe and secure.

So far, I love my “Hogwarts” experience and I’m excited about our first “Hogsmeade” trip to Egypt, which will start very early tomorrow morning.

Shabbat

2008-01-19T11:29:00.000-08:00

They say when in Rome do as the Romans and so here in Jerusalem we do as the Jews, that is we observe the Sabbath or “Shabbat” as we call it, on Saturdays. It takes a little mental adjusting at first, but otherwise it's the same – one day out of seven reserved for worshipping and rest. Since Shabbat is on Saturdays we do have class on Sunday which seemed a little strange at first, but now that we have done it a few times we are growing accustomed to it.

For our first Shabbat in Jerusalem last week, we went to the Western Wall to welcome in the Sabbath with the Jews. We got there just in time as the sun was beginning to set and the plaza was filled with people, some visitors like us, and others preparing for their Sabbath worship. The wall is separated into two sections for prayer: the right side for the women and the left hand for men. So to honour their customs, our group split up and we were able to go down to the crowded area near the wall. (We had to be sure to turn off cell-phones and put away our cameras because to use these things would be to break the Jewish Sabbath.)

There were quite a mixture of people, many had prayer books and were praying softly towards the wall. Some people had obviously come early to stake out their places next to the wall because they were sitting in white lawn chairs right up close to it. I made my way slowly towards the wall and waited my turn to squeeze in and touch the wall, where I said a little prayer. The stones at the bottom of the wall are the original Herodian Stones from Herods’ Temple Mount (about two thousand years old). Anyway, after that I made my way backwards into the crowd as I saw the other Jewish women do and then joined a group who were singing and dancing – I believe they were part of a Birthright Israel group which brings those of Jewish blood to the Holy Land. It was quite an experience to visit the wall, which has come to be one of the holiest sites in the Jewish world, attracting Jewish pilgrims from all over and to celebrate their Sabbath with them.

Though the Jews begin their Shabbat on Friday night, we just observe the Sabbath like normal from morning until night. We meet for our church meetings in the upstairs auditorium, which has enormous glass windows overlooking the Old City of Jerusalem – definitely a beautiful backdrop to the meetings. After church we have a few hours of free time before dinner and so for the last two weeks I’ve gone out and visited some of the Christian sites. Last week I visited the Garden Tomb – one of the possible places where Christ was buried and resurrected. They took us on a little tour and pointed out the hill they believe was Calvary, where Christ was crucified. After the tour, we just took some time to sit quietly in the garden, which was surprisingly peaceful considering the city outside was so noisy.

Today after church we visited the Orson Hyde Park, and the Garden of Gethsemane. The latter is of course where Christ prayed and atoned for the sins of the world. (All of these places are within walking distance by the way. We live on Mount Scopus, right next to the Mount of Olives where these two places are.) I’m falling in love with the landscape here and I especially love the olive trees. The ones we saw today in the Garden of Gethsemane were so thick and gnarled I don’t even know how old they are, but they are beautiful. We stood in the little garden that they open to the public and sang a few hymns, then one of the guys was very nice and let us into the other garden across the street, which is larger and more natural looking. We spent some quiet time there reading scriptures and reflecting by ourselves until it was time to leave.

I suppose the conclusion to this post is that the Sabbath should be the same no matter what day it is on. Maybe I have learnt to appreciate it a little more seeing how full of praise the Jewish people were at the Western Wall and then being able to give thanks at the places that are sacred to me.

P.S. We are off to Egypt in one week! More adventures to come soon!

A City of Three Layers

2008-01-13T03:03:00.000-08:00

On my first morning in Jerusalem I woke up at five a.m. to the Muslim call to prayer (as I have every other morning since I’ve been here). Although it is certainly an early wake up call, it’s a nice reminder that I am indeed in the Holy Land.

On Thursday after orientation we split up into groups and went on a walking tour of Jerusalem. It’s a very strange thing to walk through a city that has seen so much history. At one of our meetings one professor described Jerusalem as a city of three layers.

One layer is the city’s very rich history, a history that shaped not only the people who lived here, but Jews, Muslims and Christians throughout the entire world. The layers of history were visible as we walked through the city. We saw the walls of the Old City, which have been destroyed and rebuilt and attacked several times. We walked through streets that have still have stones from the Roman roads – streets that literally ran with blood during the Crusades. We passed the Mount of Olives, – in fact we live right next to the Mount of Olives – we passed the Garden Tomb, the Dome of the Rock and Church of the Holy Sepulchre. (Of course I plan on returning many times and visiting each of these places.)

Another layer is the present, which was also visible as we walked through a living, breathing city very much alive with people – little Palestinian kids on their way home from school and the many merchants at their stalls. Apparently the merchants are all very happy to have the BYU students back after the seven years during which the Center was closed. Many of them recognized us right away as the Mormons and wanted us to come look at their stores. I think my favourite was Shaaban who came and found us and led us through the meat market and asked us to come look at his store. We told him we couldn’t buy anything that day but he said told us to remember his Ali Baba BYU store and sure enough there above the store it actually said Ali Baba Souvenir Shop and just beneath it, it said BYU Store. Before we could go, he wanted to show us his picture with Steve Young in front of the store, which he proudly displays in the window.

The present city of Jerusalem as in the past is a city of conflict, which was also visible to us. We went to the roof of a hostel reserved for Austrian pilgrims to view the Old City and the view was indescribable. It had been overcast and rainy all morning but when we got up there the sun came out and was glinting off the domes of the various cathedrals that surrounded the hostel. Anyway, we were in an area of Jerusalem that was primarily Palestinian but from the rooftop we saw an Israeli flag flying from one of the houses. Apparently some of the Zionists will buy property in the Muslim quarter – usually for a very large sum of many – and live there in order to establish a Jewish presence in the city. To counter this, the Muslim community has been banding together offering more for the properties so save them from falling into Jewish hands. I just thought that was an interesting example right there in front of our eyes of the ongoing conflict.

The rest of the walk took us to the more modern side of Jerusalem. It is a strange juxtaposition to step out of the Old City to a modern one. Of course there are still reminders that we are not in North America.

The third layer of the city is its future, which has been prophesied about including the Second Coming of Christ.

Of course I have just barely caught a glimpse of the city really, in fact I feel a little bit guilty about sitting here at my computer when I should be taking it all in outside. But I believe one way I will make the most of my experience is by recording it and sharing it.

All my bags are packed ...

2008-01-04T22:07:00.000-08:00

It's been almost three years since the last time I left North America, and I am very excited about my journey to the Holy Land -- sometimes I can't breath when I think about it.

My last adventure was as a volunteer English teacher in Voronezh, Russia where I lived for just under five months. It was wonderful to get away from everything familiar and completely immerse myself in another culture. Needless to say, the experience changed my life and I left a part of my heart in the Motherland.

This time I'm off to the Brigham Young University-Jerusalem Center for one semester as a student of Near Eastern Studies. I look forward to once again getting to see another part of the world and get to know the people there. And of course, I can't wait to study the scriptures right there where the Saviour and the ancient prophets walked.

I just recently went through the motions of graduation at BYU-Idaho, although because I am participating in this program I won't receive my degree until May. Perhaps it was the fear of having to grow up and find a real job that convinced me to apply, that and I thrive on this sort of adventure. But honestly, I have known for a while that I had to see Jerusalem before I died, and what better way to do it!

And so, now that my packing troubles are over, (I've decided to live with the fact that my bag is overweight and pay the consequences) I'm off to Utah tomorrow for my Monday orientation meeting. In Israel I will try to update this blog as often as possible for anyone who is interested in reading about my adventures.

Next week in Jerusalem!