The situation was not an uncommon one—lounging on couches around a coffee table, talking, joking and laughing with family—except for the fact that I didn’t understand a word of it. For what felt like hours I sat and listened, trying to decipher bits and pieces, catching the occasional emphatic “yes” or “no”.

From time to time a sympathizer would explain the subject at hand, but the moment had passed and the feeling was lost. It was then that I discovered the true meaning of a language barrier.

It was my second trip to Israel, accompanied only by my two 15-year-old sisters, with the goal of spending Passover with family there. They were warm and welcoming, and while most spoke English to a certain degree, a majority of the conversations they had amongst themselves
were in Hebrew, a language my sisters and I knew very little of.

Therefore, anything spoken in English was directed specifically towards us, which was an incredibly odd experience. Without being able to judge context, much of the interaction we had
was distant.

Surprisingly, the strongest connection I forged was with my six-year-old cousin who spoke no English whatsoever. He followed me everywhere and spoke to me nonstop, unconcerned
with the fact that I did not understand anything he said. After a while, I began responding in English, and we began communicating through visual and nonverbal cues. This connection baffled everyone, including myself, and someday I’m sure both of us will look back on it fondly.