Shalom Around the World

Madison, the city I was born in and always dreamed of returning to, did not disappoint. I spent my first night at Rory and Marilyn’s, 12 miles up hills past Madison. This was the first time I had to get off my bike and walk since the Berkshires. Rory was my dad’s virtual board game friend from when COVID forced everything online. Rory showed me so much kindness and hospitality.

The next morning, I raced down the hill to Madison—the first stop, the apartment I lived in for the first four months of my life. The generic-looking brick building was nothing spectacular, but it was cool to see.

With time to kill but exhaustion from the century the day before, I lazily made my way to the Madison Zoo. (Zoos weird me out. Huge animals trapped in small cages for my enjoyment. But still, it was amazing to see behemoths of animals in a major city.)

**I wonder if the camels and giraffe are friends**

Madison was surrounded by three lakes, Mendota, Monona, and Wingra. With easy access for swimming and other water sports, summertime saw the lakes full of locals each day. Knowing the heat would quickly evaporate any water on me, I didn’t hesitate to take a swim without a change of clothing.

Post swim, I overheard a man screaming about how COVID vaccines were going to destroy the human species, as I packed up my stuff and got out of there.

**Who need a bath when you’ve got Lake Wingra**

When my parents lived in Madison, over twenty years prior, they would go to the Chabad house for prayer services and meals occasionally. Chabad is a branch of Hasidism mostly focused on reaching out to other Jews who are less engaged in Jewish practice and providing resources for Jews in remote areas and countries. My dad connected with the Madison Chabad Rabbi and set up for me to have Friday night dinner there.

I was expecting dinner to be for older community members, but when I arrived, I realized that it was in fact the Chabad for the University of Wisconsin-Madison students. As I walked in, an anxiety built up like it had when I was a freshman in college four years earlier. There are so many new people I didn’t know. They all knew each other, but I knew no one. I was a stranger. I didn’t belong, I wasn’t even a student there… or anywhere for that matter. I just graduated! Where did my friendliness I thought I had gone? I didn’t know where to sit. Do I sit next to strangers I didn’t know, or do I leave spots open? There was an underlying discomforts that sat with me for the rest of the night surrounded by dozens of unfamiliar people, but I managed. Two friendly guys named Eli and Benjy talked to me for a bit, but it felt awkward. I wasn’t in my element.

After a long hour of discomfort, people begin to peter off to frat parties or clubs. The more people left, the more at ease I became. Finally, it was just me, some guy named Eric, and the hosting Chabad family. The Rabbi’s daughter, a toddler with frizzy dark brown hair, mounted the chair next to mine and showed off her lollypop collection. She gave me a tour of the variety of colors she had. She offered one to me, but I told her I was full and would try it tomorrow.

“What flavor do you think all these colors are?” She pondered with a quizzical look on her face.

“I’ll have to update you on the flavors when I try it later,” I told her.

“I will let you know how mine is too!” She beams with excitement for our soon-to-be new discoveries.

The conversation switched as the Rabbi finally got a chance to talk to me. We discussed college, comparing Boston to Madison. I felt much more at ease now. I had calmed down a bit. The situation was more comfortable.

“So, tell me about this bike trip,” the Rabbi inquired. We discussed the nature of the trip before his daughter interrupted, “I wanna have a conversation about lollipops!” The conversation switched between biking, lollipops and colleges.

Noticing it was 10 pm, I said goodbye and headed outside. A wave of anxiety rushed through me as I closed the door behind me. I was about to head to bed on a Friday night, not go out. I had no friends here I could even go out with. A realization of what this trip was had finally hit me. I felt like I was in college again before I made any new friends. I wanted to go to my new Warmshowers host for the night—the comfort of a stranger’s home.

As I peddled to their house, the anxiety started to snowball. How long could I really do this trip for? I needed a base of friends. The students at Chabad had their base of friends, what did I have on the road? I was alone. I had no partner. I had no friends with me. I would find comfort in a stranger’s unfamiliar home. I needed a hug, but I had no one to hug me.

Thirty anxiety-ridden minutes later, I arrived at my hosts, Jerry and Barb. Finally. I made quick small talk for a minute as was routine, but since I had done this so many times, I felt comfortable in their space.

I said good night, then began to relax and calm down. I had my own space in an unfamiliar room. They had a cute and sweet golden retriever named Bella. I could lie down. Maybe I’d been overworking myself the past month. Maybe I was just tired. I hoped I could sleep in the next day. I undressed and collapsed into a nervy sleep without a much-needed shower.

Unfortunately, I could not sleep in. But fortunately, I had a restful and productive morning in Madison. Jerry and Barb prepared bagels for breakfast. Unlike the night before, the conversation flowed. I noticed on this trip I’d been better at talking with older people. I wasn’t sure why. Jerry offered to drive me to REI in his red convertible (his “toy,” as he called it). Then he helped me with some overdue bike adjustments.

Jerry, Barb, and my hosts, Rory and Marilyn from the night before reminded me that even though I didn’t have a base of friends traveling with me, I’d find the comfort and kindness of strangers everywhere.

Freshman Anxiety

Bee’s Knees