kehilla kedosha

shalom, shalom from the perfect rooftop cafe in tel aviv at sunset!

today is christmas and i wish all of you celebrating a wonderful holiday! in my family, we have a variety of non-traditional traditions surrounding christmas including ladies' spa day on christmas eve, a hike in muir woods and a trip to the zoo the following morning, chinese food on clement street and taking in a movie to round out christmas day. being jewish, i've never experienced the rush of excitement waiting to open presents under the tree, or advent calendars, or the beauty of midnight mass.  this year, despite the fact that i live in the french capital of christmas (check it out, for real), i decided to leave my adoptive country and head to one of my homes to find different aspects of christmas: family, community and love. 

my trip to israel was rather spontaneous - i only booked my flights about three weeks ago - and came out of many conversations with friends who were also going to be in the country at the same time. so, all the signs pointed towards ben gurion airport and, after a little validation, plans fell into place. i guess if i had to point to one theme of my week here so far it would be "it just felt right." this past week, i have felt something i haven't felt in a long, long time -- i was within a kehilla kedosha, a holy community. i believe that i've discussed moments of awe on this blog before; however, the ways in which this week has unfolded are beyond my comprehension and continue to tint my time in this holy space with my chosen and biological family with sparks of the divine. 

there's something about israel that is difficult to articulate if you haven't experienced it firsthand. perhaps it's the idea that there are no boundaries - strangers come up to you and just begin conversations as if you're old friends. it may be the random people on vespas yelling shabbat shalom on friday afternoon, the feeling of meeting people and instantly finding a connection, or running into friends from all over the world in a country that is smaller than new jersey. it is perhaps the delightful mixture of kitsch and artisanal jewelry found at the shuk hacarmel. or the call to prayer from the local mosque along with the sound of the shofar celebrating a bar mitzvah at the kotel in jerusalem. maybe it's simply the fact that watching the sunset on the beaches of tel aviv is so beautiful that one can't help but feel like the world is theirs. it's a different world - one that is at once so complex and unpredictable and also so pure and touching. 

in the past week, i've been hopping all over this country and been fortunate enough to be able to partake in the christmas spirit: israeli style. from my oldest friend whom i have known for twenty years, to new friends i've met this week and everyone in between, sharing joy, celebrating lifecycles, embracing change with open arms, and building memories together is the fiber of this life that we create and spend together, which has made me infinitely happy. 

i wish you all the very best this holiday season and cannot wait to see what 2014 brings for us all. i look forward to hearing your updates and seeing you in this new (gregorian) year and know that i am sending you all my love from wherever i am in this crazy world. 

b'ahava v'shalom - with love and peace, 

doria 

winter solstice sunset, tel aviv

western wall; dome of the rock

tel aviv street art

sisters together in israel for the first time since 1995

coup du lapin (whiplash)

Bonsoir à tous,

The last month has been a whirlwind and rather surreal in different ways at different points. Part of the problem in neglecting this blog is that it takes so long for me to catch up to the here and now. I will do my best to fill you in on my happenings for the past month.

When I last wrote you all, I was headed off to Champagne to meet my father who was going to be there on business. Our 22 hours in the region included a private tour and ten-wine tasting at the Hautvillers Dom Pérignon chateau with none other than the chief winemaker himself, incredible food, a stay in the private villa of the Moët et Chandon family, and the consumption of more champagne in one day than I have ever had in my entire life, cumulatively, up to that point. What can I say? I'm not one to pass up the opportunity. Here are some photos of the day: 

Following our brief stint in Champagne, I headed back with the father to London where he was concluding some work and I was invited to hop along for the ride. It had been six years since I was in London and I completely forgot how much I adore the city. Perhaps it was the fog, the hipsters, the great coffee, or the English (language), but it reminded me so much of San Francisco and was incredibly comforting. Added bonus? Seeing friends from school who are making their lives across the pond. In my conversations with my French friends here in Strasbourg, I have been made much more aware of how unique it is to have friends who literally live all over the world. It is quite a humbling and enjoyable privilege to have and was a complete joy to see my friends. 

The timing of my stay in London ran into time that I had already scheduled at an archive in Paris, so I took the Eurostar for the first time and, in a little over two hours, had arrived back in France. While I saw some good friends in Paris, the majority of my time was spent in the 11th arrondissement (which was awesome, as it's a neighborhood I hadn't really previously explored) in the archives of an organization called CASIP-COJASOR. Of course, it being a French organization, that is an acronym for "Comité d'action sociale israélite de Paris - Comité juif d’action sociale et de reconstruction." Oy, it's a mouthful, I know. My time in the archives was incredibly fascinating and enriching - I found myself excited and extremely motivated to continue with my project, which is always good! Although the CASIP part of the organization was founded under Napoleon in 1809, I was looking mostly at transcripts of annual meetings and at speeches given between 1945-1970 as they pertained most closely to the influx of North African Jewish immigrants arriving in Paris and receiving social services. Trop cool. Geeking out finished. 

After two weeks of travel, I was very excited to get back to Strasbourg and resume normal life. For four days. Five days after I got back, I was on a train again to Paris. This time, though, I was meeting MEREDITH at the airport!!! That's right, folks. Meredith made it across the Atlantic ocean all by herself and came to visit her poor, old sister in Paris (emphasis on the "poor" - thanks, government stipends!). As the last time Meredith visited Paris was when she was five, we had a lot of ground to cover. Lucky for me (actually. No sarcasm!), Meredith has been taking courses in Art History and was a lovely tour guide in the Louvre. Her only requests other than seeing museums and going to an experimental dance piece and seeing Hamlet at the Comédie Française (high maintenance? nope. chai maintenance? yes.) was to have a daily apéritif, a newfound luxury given that she's still underage in the U.S. and her fake ID only works half the time. Just kidding about that last part! So, after four days of museuming, eating, drinking, walking, and more eating, we headed back to Strasbourg to celebrate Thanksgiving and Hannukah.

Thanksgiving abroad is never quite the same, but it's always exciting to share a traditional experience in a new environment with new people. This year, our guests included Meredith, myself, our friend Nora from San Francisco, and three of my friends from Strasbourg. Although we didn't have turkey, we did have latkes and I made a killer new stuffing recipe that will hopefully be a keeper -- roasted chestnut, leek and brioche stuffing? Yeah. The next day, we were joined by three more friends - two from Stanford and one from Cornell - who spent the weekend here in Alsace from Paris. So, the house was quite full of people and of love. If you can't spend the holidays at home, at least we can choose to make them as meaningful and full as possible, right?

I, and my house, have barely recovered from all the guests; however, everything is clean and tidy and ready for Natalie!! my freshman roommate who arrives tomorrow and will be here for five days. I'm so excited to show her my new city and to spend some quality time together. One of my favorite things about having visitors is that they ask me to look at familiar places in a new light and add a fresh dose of excitement to what may seem, to me, to be quotidian. I'll be sure to update you about her stay.

For now, I will leave you with this image that indicates a bit of the Christmas spirit that has taken over my little city in the past week. Wishing you all a wonderful start to the holiday season!

gris (gray)

As fall fades into winter, in many ways the world has a tendency to become monochromatic. Lush greens of summer and vibrant hues of autumn give way to... pewter, slate, granite - need I continue or make the obligatory shades of gray reference? Needless to say, it was on such a silvery morning that I came across a small street, which lead to a little plaza and directly across from me was a turquoise building with a bright orange door. I followed the colors. Unsurprisingly, given my life and habits, behind door number one was the only all organic, locally-sourced cafe in Strasbourg, where I now have a subscription for a CSA [community supported agriculture] box. This little story is meant to illustrate a lesson with which I have a lot of experience in the past few weeks: follow that to which you are drawn.

That's not to say, of course, that this revelation has lead to perfect harmony and contentment; rather, it's imbued in me, at least, the confidence to say that I did something for a reason. This interested me, this moved me. 

Take, for example, a concert and colloquium I attended last night entitled "Musicians of Auschwitz: Witnesses of Another World, Keepers of Memory." As many of you know, I am particularly fascinated by the Second World War and Holocaust studies and happen to be interested in studying the intersection of performance and social justice, so naturally I went. The music, as performed by students in their final year at the Royal College of Music in London, was moving not so much due to its composition (about which I am not qualified to speak), but the resonance of its context. Hans Gal, the composer being honored by the gala, was not the typical Holocaust survivor. As tomorrow is the 75th anniversary of Kristallnacht, the organizers of the event at the Council of Europe, were clear to highlight that Gal's life was relatively easy - he was interned in a camp in Great Britain at the beginning of the war for being Austrian (despite the fact that he was Jewish), for many of the same reasons the United States interned Japanese-Americans after Pearl Harbor. Despite the fact that I probably could have gleaned more from the evening had I not been zoning out during the presenter's speech in French, and had more of a capacity for understanding the nuance of Gal's composition, going to the concert connected different parts of history for me, and added a layer of discourse surrounding art and trauma.

Such is the story with my research as well. Not everything, ok really much of nothing, has gone 100% according to plan thus far, and yet, every interaction, article, interview leads to a new story and perspective. My current work involves reading a lot of articles, meeting members of the community, and trying to understand the extremely complex and de-centralized organization of the Jewish world in Alsace. I have finally made contact with my elusive advisor and have meetings with him and the Grand Rabbin of Strasbourg in the upcoming weeks. To update you, I'll be headed to Paris in a few days to do some work in the archives of an organization called COJASOR (Comité Juif d'Action Sociale et de Reconstruction) and I'm hoping to uncover a bit about the aid that was given to North African Jewish families upon their arrival in France in the 1960s and 70s. I'm very much looking forward to it and will be sure to share with you my more interesting findings.

In other news, as stated, venturing out and exploration has been a theme in the past weeks, both geographically and gastronomically. I realized about 10 days ago that I hadn't left the city limits of Strasbourg since my arrival and I deemed it the longest period of time that I've ever been in one city without exiting. So, I took a daycation to nearby Colmar, one stop on the "Coeur d'Alsace" tour - if you were interesed in that - and got to see a bit more of the region. Colmar is often described as a smaller version of Strasbourg and I would deem that accurate. Still, one never really gets tired of fairytale German-style facades, looming cathedrals, and the perfect coffee while people-watching in a new city. Here are some pics!

 City Hall, Colmar

Colmar, about 30 minutes south of Strasbourg by train, marks the beginning of the infamous Alsatian wine trail

Cathedral of Notre-Dame, Colmar

Gastronomically speaking, now that I've moved into my permanent apartment, I've gotten back to cooking for real and exploring the various markets in Strasbourg. In season now: pears, root vegetables,  cabbage, quetsch (this is like a cross between a plum, apricot, and fig), and apples. LOTS OF APPLES. When I'm not cooking for myself, I must admit I haven't been trying as many Alsatian specialities as perhaps one might. Food life here is very, shall we say, porky. Regional specialities include choucroute (sauerkraut with 3,5, or 7 meats of dubious origin atop), tarte flambé - people describe it as Alsatian pizza. mmmm NOPE. - pork knuckle, knacks (sausages of equally dubious origin), and a whole lot of cheese. The cheese is great, as is the wine :) I'm becoming a regular sommalier in terms of distinguishing between Riesling, Gewurtztraminer, and Muscat! Overall, life in a land where you are guaranteed great bread, wine, cheese, chocolate and patisserie is a great thing. Well, maybe not for my waistline!

I head off now to a week away from Strasbourg -- I look forward to hearing from you and will update you upon my return. 

Wishing you all love, warmth, and the time and energy to pursue that which moves you. 

Doria

installez-vous

Dearest ones, 

I'm writing to you from my new café: a place of warmth, solace, lime-green walls, spatulas hanging from the ceiling, delicious cookies and some kick-ass, organic hot chocolate. I've been in France for a little over two weeks now, and while sometimes it feels as though I've been here forever, at other moments, it seems like I just arrived. It's been an interesting and trying few weeks, and also a period of time that has necessitated much reflection and action. I've decided to spare you the banality of describing in excruciating detail my orientation in Paris (highlight: security briefing from the Ambassador's bodyguard about the two biggest threats in France - terrorism and pickpocketing), to share with you instead some main ideas that have been recurring in my time here so far...

There's this thing called e-mail. As I'm here as an independent researcher, the beginnings of my work involve making contacts, coordinating appointments for archival work, confirming facts -- frankly, all things involving communication between human beings. Being from Silicon Valley where if you're only carrying one Apple product you feel naked, getting used to the lack of use of e-mail has been a learning curve to say the least. Luckily, now I have my French phone and can walk into peoples' offices, and the process has sped up exponentially and I'm looking forward to seeing how things fall into place. I've signed a lease on a 'permanent' apartment, aka where I will be staying for the rest of my time here, and I'm really excited about it! The introvert in me is very proud of fake-extrovert me for meeting people - I have two languages partners already, a family for whom I will be babysitting, a couple American students, a few French students, and lots of Jewish community contacts (both Ashkenazi and Sephardic) already in the mix. Now, if only I could make contact with my elusive advisor...

Je prends un café crème. One of my favorite things about life in general, but particularly in France, is the art of being content to sit in a cafe for hours reading, writing, chatting with friends (old and new), and thinking about the future. I've found a few places in Strasbourg thus far that I know will be the location of many wonderful conversations with future friends and visitors, in addition to places that make me feel safe and warm and happy, even in an unfamiliar place. The fare here in Alsace is heavy on the Germanic influence, so rather than the lighter Parisian patisserie, here you will find the world of tartes (Torte auf Deutsch) and lots of Black Forest cake, which I must confess I haven't tried yet. I will, though. Trust me. 

I need this from you. There is a lot to unpack here. The first, and perhaps the most immediately relevant and evident permutation of this idea, is clear: I am not from Strasbourg and do not know how things work, or where places are, or what I am supposed to be doing with my life here. Being a stranger/foreigner/young, naive soul who thinks she is worldly, street-smart, and can handle anything, it's been hard to adjust to a life that requires a good amount of vulnerability and assistance. I'm working on asking for help for things like how to pay my electricity bill or the best way to pester an eighty-four year old professor who doesn't have a computer. It's coming along slowly, and I think it's been good for my ego. 

           Another manifestation of this has been occurring with you, my friends and family. As you may  or may not have picked up by now, I live 6000 miles away and have no real friends or support system here, so I am importing mine virtually from the good ol' USA. Harder for me than asking for things of strangers is asking for them of those who are close to me. For example, I love to hear amazing stories of chance encounters with great friends on the street, or impromptu emergency dance parties in dining halls, or seeing pictures of the unbeatable and indescribable sunset over the Golden Gate. But that's also really difficult for me. As you may also have figured out, my schedule here is pretty flexible - I set it myself :)  So, I'm also trying to find a balance of reaching out to you and knowing that your lives are getting increasingly busier and busier. So, here's a little Public Service Announcement: if you haven't heard from me in a while, reach out to me because I am currently operating under the impression that everyone is busier than me, which is definitely true. I'm working on other ways of articulating what kind of support I need from those of you who are so amazing to offer it up and will get back to you as soon as I've figured it out ;) 

I know you would love this. This, my friends, is the kicker. On the whole, my time in Strasbourg has been so valuable and exciting, that the hardest part is not being able to share it with you in real time. The first time I walked into the City Center and saw the Cathedral lit up at night, it quite literally took my breath away. I wish you could have been there. I am lucky enough to have experienced something new and beautiful and hilarious each and every day, and almost everything makes me think of one (or, usually, MANY) of you and how much something would mean to you. I'll do my best to take photos, write down my thoughts, and otherwise document such things and get them to you somehow :) Here's one, for example... The scene is two kinda punk-looking French men, aged 30-35 walking down the street: 

     Frenchie 1: Teech you 'ow to dougie? 

     Frenchie 2: Non! Teech me 'ow to dougie.

     Frenchie 1: Oui, exact. I am teeching you. 

     Frenchie 2: Non! The song is 'Teech me'

     Frenchie 1: Oui! I am trying to teech you. 

So here I am, walking down the streets of Strasbourg trying not to die at this Franglish exchange between two grown men who should not be teaching anyone how to dougie and wishing that someone were there to witness this interaction and return my head-tilt and acknowledge my laughter. 

Moments of awe. Being removed from my hectic Stanford and work and social schedules has offered quite a bit of time to create my own routine here. I'm taking a German class, three dance classes, yoga, Hebrew, learning to knit, and getting in a good amount of research and grad school application time too. Trying to create structure where it does not exist offers a lot of opportunity for moments of revelation and an appreciation for things that seem to magically work out for themselves. For example, making eye contact with someone at Shabbat and finding a new friend, or going to a meeting that you really didn't want to go to and meeting the exact person you were looking for (i.e., kind, hilarious North African Jews), or having coffee and stopping to look around and realizing that I'm living in an incredible moment in time that can never be replicated, and that I am so blessed to be where I am, doing what I'm doing. 

I hope that this update has been sufficient for those curious amongst you. I hope too, that it reflects the rather complicated waves of emotions that randomly pop up throughout the day - I don't aim to hide those from you, this experience is supposed to be hard, and it wouldn't be honest to say otherwise. I want you to know that I am having many more exciting moments than not, and that life here is getting easier and more comfortable by the day. 

Until next time - all my love to you, 

Doria

Cool little house casually built in 1767. Pass it on my way home. 

La Petite France

One of the European Commission offices. Parc de la Republique

First visitor! C + D in front of the Cathedral

pause

Dears,

Ceci n'est pas un blog-post.

To borrow some themes from my friend, Magritte, no matter how we or others depict objects or events or places, we can never fully grasp it in every sense. I hope you'll excuse me taking a bit more time to attempt to understand and experience life here in Strasbourg before I update you on it all. Some of you have expressed concern about the lack of posting -- I assure you that I will have A LOT to say, even though I can't just yet.

I hope you're all well and that you're beginning to feel the autumn as much as I am here - I'm sipping a cafe creme in your honor and am thinking of you often.

Love,
Doria


P.S. I hope some of these photos will suffice as an alternative to text...

Any guesses as to which city this is? 

Jardin du Luxembourg 

Fromage. Giant, giant fromage: Strasbourg. 

This is the view from the Quai, which is 20m from my house.

Haha. 

Notre-Dame Cathedral, Strasbourg

space between

As you may have noticed, it has been more than a month since my last post and I apologize for the delay. I promise that once I get to France, my updates will be more regular and interesting.

The past few weeks have been spent mostly relaxing and preparing for what they ("they" being people older than myself) like to call "the next phase." This next phase, as some of you know, involves me moving to Strasbourg in about 19 days to complete eight months of cultural observation and research that may or may not result in something that one might be interested in reading. The preparations for my future endeavor have included navigating the world of the French apartment rental system, prepping for graduate school applications, visa appointments, and most importantly, many, many coffee dates with friends whom I will miss immensely in the upcoming months.

As requested by my fellow Francophile and soon-to-be ex-pat, Charlotte R. Greenbaum, here is a photo from her visit out to San Francisco over Labor Day weekend - proof that friendship doesn't fade after college graduation :)

In addition to physical preparations and getting the tangibles together as much as possible, I've been trying to mentally prepare myself for what lies ahead. Normally, I would say that I'm one who holds her shit together and approaches problems from a rather logical approach. Regardless of whether I'm giving myself too much credit there, the past few weeks have had been laced with much more frequently than normal occurrences of freaking out and irrationality. Last night, for example, I was about as unhappy as I've been in a long, long time. Blame the PMS (sorry, too much information?), the fact that I still don't have a place to live secured, the proximity of my deadlines for graduate school approaching, or the constant insecurities about adjusting to life in a new place (again), let's just say there are a lot of things floating around that have yet to be tied down.

This is an auspicious and sacred period in the Jewish calendar, between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, when we are begged to reflect on the people we were in the past year and who we will become in the next. I've been engaging in various rituals - some traditional and some self-created - to think about how to mitigate the anxiety and truly prepare myself for leaving my comfort zone of the Bay Area and Stanford and this morning, I journaled, took a dance class, got amazing pep-talks from some very special people and feel infinitely better. Writing this morning, I came across my journal entry from exactly two years ago when I was on board the plane from San Francisco to Berlin, and I wrote to myself, "Doria. You're on this plane not because you're sure that this is where you're supposed to be and when, but because you know that you would regret not being here. The space between San Francisco and Berlin is, in reality, indescribably small because everything that you hold dear there is simultaneously here with you. What is truly remarkable is that you can and will be able to share your treasures with others and accumulate more riches than you can ever imagine."

So, my friends, here is to the space between two places, worlds, mentalities, or peoples. My next entry will be from my adoptive home in France and I look forward to sharing with you my transitions, stories, foibles and triumphs and I sincerely hope you'll continue to share yours with me via email - I've so loved your responses to my other posts and I consider you all to be such blessings in my life.

Shana tova. With love, 
Doria

lenses

"Out of three or four people in a room, 
One always stands at the window..." ~ Yehuda Amichai

Sometimes, the universe just wants to be acknowledged. I wonder whether you've had those moments when there are too many signs to ignore and too many dots that have been connected. In many ways, my time here in Israel has brought to the forefront ideas that I've been exploring and considering for a long time in a way that's made them difficult to ignore.

I became a Bat Mitzvah exactly nine years ago in the Hebrew calander. As I stood in front of my family, my friends, and my community, I chanted Parashat Shofetim and took my first steps on the road to assuming my responsibilities as a member of the Jewish people. Since that day, each time I put on my tallit (prayer shawl) and when I look at the mirror in the morning, I can see an inscription of the line that most resonated with me as a twelve year old as it still does today as an (almost) twenty-two year old: Tzedek, tzedek, tirdof. Justice, justice, shall you pursue.

This Shabbat is a special one not only because we will be reading my parasha, but also because it is the first in the month of Elul, my personal favorite month, and one that begins the preparation for the High Holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur - the days of Judgement and of Awe. It is a time of holiness, reflection, and action. We are commanded to re-examine ourselves and our deeds in order to better ourselves and those whose lives we have touched in the past year. Tradition begs that we consider and question who we have wronged and who we have praised and who we have ignored. To me, it makes perfect sense that the anniversary of my becoming a Bat Mitzvah coincides with the beginning of Elul, and it is only too interesting and wonderful for me to be in Israel to celebrate. 

For the past two weeks, I have felt very much like the one person in a group of three or four that stands at the window, as in the poem of Yehuda Amichai. This trip to Israel is different, and I knew that going in. Instead of floating in the Dead Sea, my friends and I spent the day in South Tel Aviv, one of the poorest and most diverse (ethnically, religiously) in Israel learning about the plight of migrant workers and asylum seekers trying to gain legal residency and talked with incredible children and teens with cerebral palsy in Rishon L'Tzion. Instead of staying at a tourist Bedouin tent in the Negev, we spent the morning hearing community activists at urban gardens speaking about sustainable ecology and the struggle to ultilize the very limited natural resources. We went to the Kotel (the Western Wall), and then we met with Women of the Wall about the challenge of gender equality at the most sacred site of the Jewish people. In the same way that it is challenging to confront a loved one about their problems or your relationship, so too is it difficult to engage in conversations that reveal flaws in a place that you love. Meeting with activists and community members and hearing about the struggles for justice and equality in Israel necessarily begs the question: am I doing enough to make the world a better place? Whether in San Francisco, at Stanford, or in Israel - what needs can I meet, and for whom, and why, and how? 

While I don't have the answers to these questions, the coincidence of me being in Israel on Shabbat Shofetim after having spent a few weeks delving in to the notions of social justice, leadership, and community, is not lost on me. I keep looking at my "favorites" tab on my computer - the one I created two years ago that's open to the School of Social Work at UC Berkeley and wonder what it would be like to devote my life to this. Would I be happy or fulfilled? Is that how I can best impact my commuity? It's tempting... I would love to share with you stories of the people I've met and learned from and I hope that you'll share similar stories with me of places or people who beg that we examine our privilege and dig deeper than the surface -- that we look out the window at the world around us, rather than inward at the three people just like us in a room. 

Tonight, I'll be welcoming Shabbat at a Turkish syngagoge in the Negev with my cohort of Diller Teen Fellows and over 100 other young adults from over ten countries. I hope that wherever you are when you're reading this that you are enjoying a restful, contemplative Shabbat (or weekend) and that we all continue to search for and ask questions that provoke and stir us to awaken all our senses and act with passion and conviction. 

With love, 
Doria

shift

To borrow an analogy from my good friend and fellow blogger, Hannah, packing for a trip can often feel like the book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie*, meaning that you realize there are so many things that you realize "must" be done that you abadon your packing all together. This leads to the most productive kind of procrastination; hence, why I am writing to you all, while avoiding doing laundry, making copies of my passport, and turning on the away message for my e-mails. I'm glad to have the time to reflect before heading off again.

In the month and a half since graduation, to be honest, I haven't felt like myself. I will admit that this could be because of the drastic change in my sleep schedule. My main job for the past six weeks has been coaching the swim team of which I was once a member (back in my glory days - ha!), and it has been thoroughly enjoyable. It's my fourth summer with the team as a coach, and there is nothing more special to me than watching these kids grow up, become real and kind people, and achieve their (very different) goals. Aside from that, my two favorite things were acting as goofy as possible with the 4-6 year olds to prevent them from getting bored at meets, and knowing that, at least once during the day, I would be crying of laughter from either my co-workers or the little ones. Or both. Being at work at 6:30am, however, has taken its toll, and I am not sorry to be finished with morning practices.

I think, though, my feeling of malaise can be better explained by the loss or changing, of two pretty serious identifiers that, up to this point in my life, had remained a source of consistency and stability, as well as a measure for growth, progress, and change. I would imagine, although you all are free to correct me, that if I were to ask you to pick three words that summarize me, you would not pick "dancer." I would. While my professional aspirations as a dancer are still up in the air, I realized not long ago that most of the people I am closest from Stanford and otherwise have never seen me perform, which leads me to question why I hadn't been more forward or forthcoming about this part of my life. At this point, I have a studio or two identified in France, but no real plan of how to condition my body and to have artistic goals without the structure of an institution and the prospect of devoting my life to this art. That scares me. Similarly, up to this point, I've always listed my occupation as "student," something which I cannot technically do this year. Without the cover of being a student, I feel weirdly vulnerable and ordinary in a way that I can't really describe. That sounds a bit silly, and what I've realized is that I have always associated being a student as being part of a group/class/cohort that has relationships with each other, which I don't know if I will have next year as someone who is mostly doing her own thing. That also scares me.

In the hopes that writing things that are difficult releases them into the world and out of my head, I am wondering how your lives are transitioning and growing, improving and making you question and think and learn. I would similarly love it if you would share with me your answer in any form of communication - letter, e-mail, text, call, even carrier pigeons or the old fashioned can-on-a-string.

Tomorrow morning, I will be leaving on my fifth trip to Israel in as many years. It will be a relatively quick trip, but one that will likely be exhausting - I'm working for my fourth summer with the Diller Teen Fellows program, though this year, in addition to being with 300+ high schoolers, I will be learning from, traveling and teaching with ten college students from North America, along with our Israeli counterparts. I am so looking forward to some much needed downtime (for my first few days before I start work), a change of scenery, seeing old friends, getting to know some incredible teenagers and educators, eating some kick-ass hummus from Abu Ghosh, and updating you all from my second favorite city on earth:  Jerusalem.


With love,
Doria


*If you know me well enough, you may object to this title and amend it to read If You Give a Mouse Two Cookies.

one year later...

dear friends,

it has been over a year, actually, since i've written here and it's a little surreal to be doing so again. the past twelve months have at once flown by and also moved incredibly slowly, crystallizing certain moments and speeding through others. 

i am now a graduate of stanford university, which is still rather bizarre to say, as is beginning any sentence with "when i was in college..." or "____, my friend from college..." it makes it more real, i guess, that this phase of my life is coming to a close.

my year has been full. from digging into my studies to co-producing and co-directing an original play, from pushing myself in the studio at school to performing at the american college dance festival, from rekindling friendships that i thought were lost to meeting new people who make you feel complete, i would say that i have had a year of blessings and a lot of luck. 

reading back over my posts from last spring, i am surprised and happy that many of the plans and wishes i had written about are being realized. i will be going back to france in the fall, where i will be doing research for the academic year. you are sincerely invited and i hope that you do come to strasbourg and alleviate some of my inevitable loneliness, at least for the first few months. i will also be so proud and excited to show you all the discoveries and wonders of my new city! 

i am starting this blog again not only because i will be abroad for another year, but also because much like my life a year and a half ago, i am entering the unknown. outside of the comfort and confines of stanford, this is a step forward on my own. and although you cannot be there to call up for random meals or excursions, it would mean the world to me for you to experience it with me. 

i will keep you posted on my whereabouts and happenings at random intervals throughout the summer, and we'll pick up full-force come september, deal? 

with love and the light of summer sunsets, 
doria