Christmas in Bethlehem was quite an experience. A lot of stores had Christmas decorations, not put up in August like the United States, but at a more reasonable time just a few weeks before December 25^th. Although I was in the most amazing

place to celebrate Christmas, to celebrate the true meaning of Christmas anyway- it didn't feel like Christmas, the holiday didn't hit me over the head like it had every other year.

Instead of spending the holidays with my family, I spent most of Christmas Eve teaching English to Zahira, the woman I've been teaching for more than a month now. After the lesson I went with her husband into Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus Christ, only a 10 minute walk from Aida refugee camp. We walked through the streets, crowded with people selling strawberries, vegetables, sweets, corn on the cob, anything you could possibly want to eat. The market (they call it the cinema) is always crowded with people, but for Christmas and during the Muslim feast of Eid streets were blocked off by police and even more vendors screamed from their microphones to catch the shoppers' attention.  Walking through the streets seeing people with their families made me miss mine.  As I walked arm in arm with Zahira, I said to her that I missed my family. Because of the language barrier I am never absolutely sure if she fully understands what I say, both of us speaking half in Arabic and half in English. But, she responded, "You are my family now." That meant a lot to me, on Christmas especially.  It's still not easy living in the camp as a foreigner; spending time with Zahira and her family gives me a sense of normalcy. Watching all of the children play together, hearing them laugh and giggle is touching.

Last week I came to the birthday celebration of her oldest daughter Jihan, we all sang happy birthday and blew out the candles on her cake. All of the women removed their headscarves because there were no men present; we danced to Arab music, laughed, and celebrated life. This is Palestine. Her family often wants me to sleep over their house and share meals with them and it has become a home away from home for me. Sometimes you do not need a common language to make a connection.