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My first four months at home
#18: The sight of the sun setting over the Mediterranean, the Negev mountains, Jerusalem, and at your kibbutz never gets old
I made aliyah on July 15th, 2019–a day I won’t ever forget. There have been many difficult days ever since, with the language barrier, waiting around endlessly for never-ending bureaucracy, and a fair share of useless peyluyot in my Garin Tzabar program’s perek klita. Yet most days have been rewarding in a way that’s impossible to describe in words. So instead, I’ll write down a few funny observations I’ve made along the way.
- There are dozens of ways to spell Kfar Saba, even though it’s always pronounced the same way. Ditto for Tzfat.
- Old people in the bank love shouting at each other about who should be served first.
- It’s perfectly acceptable to take as many free samples of olives, shuk nuts, or kiosk candies as you want. Just ignore the pigeon nibbling away at them.
- Camping is a national pastime. A makselet is a necessity.
- You’ll get strange (sometimes admiring) looks if you genuinely enjoy the taste of Arak.
- The sound of someone rolling their own cigarettes starts to become soothing over time.
- Gadna only sucks for the first day and a half. Afterwards, it’s extremely fun.
- You never get used to the flies bothering you. Or the mosquitoes.
- The fish actually bite you in the Mediterranean.
- Everyone has a tapestry for the beach (generally decorated with marijuana leaves or Indian elephants.)
- The Ring-Necked Parakeets may be invasive, but they also add an exotic element to the country.
- Kiosks are a national treasure.
- You fall in love with Mivtza Savta. If you live on a kibbutz, you’ll know someone just like Idan. If you’re in Garin Tzabar, you’ll know someone just like Krembo.
- All of the sabras insist their local falafel/shawarma joint is the best in the country.
- If you graduated college and/or have a masters degree, you’ll be met with questions like “Why did you join the army?” or “Why didn’t you stay to make more money in America?”
- All of the songs you loved on Birthright gradually become a nuisance.
- You look with pride, nostalgia, and amusement at all of the Birthright groups traveling the country, remembering you were once one of them.
- The sight of the sun setting over the Mediterranean, the Negev mountains, Jerusalem, and at your kibbutz never gets old.
- You love the fact that the Israeli flag is ubiquitous–gas stations, holy sites, beaches, roadsides…it never gets old.
- Voting in the world’s only Jewish state, and the only Middle Eastern democracy, is more moving than voting in your country of origin.
- The independence of Israeli children never stops surprising you. You realize that Israel is, in many ways, much safer than America.
- People either admire you or think you’re out of your mind for being a Lone Soldier.
- The diverse population of Jews–and non-Jews–is both exotic and comforting.
- The likelihood of your ulpan teacher being either a badass or very political is relatively high.
- You gradually get more loudspoken and brash, even about the most trivial things. (Seriously. My boyfriend tells me that Noa Kirel’s Chatzuf is my anthem.)
- You go from loudly arguing about who to vote for to getting help with directions from the same person on the bus.
- You feel slightly foreign when you go visit your family for the first time since aliyah.
- One way or another, your politics are likely to strongly shift after making aliyah.
- Despite feeling slightly out of your element, you eventually start feeling at home. Through all of the difficult days, you realize you’d rather be nowhere else than your new home/ancestral homeland.
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