Israelitis - a Relapse

I find myself missing Israel with an ache that’s hard to ignore. In some ways, my years living there were some of the best of my life. I am fully aware that you can’t go back in time, and about 9 times out of 10 I manage to convince myself that I am not trying to. But I find myself missing the way the light hits the stones in the morning, the smell of the morning air in Jerusalem, the birds migrating through the Hula valley, and the specialness of the country.

I am also painfully and intellectually aware that the political, social and economic situation there has changed for the worse, with no end to the downward spiral in sight. If I were to take a cold, logical look at it, the idea of going back to Israel to live is at best ridiculous. Other words might be irresponsible, risky, HUGE, scary and tremendously difficult.

Just so I don’t completely idealize the country, I also have to say that I *don’t* miss the general Israeli attitude to things like customer service, passing on the highways, Ashkenaz vs. Sefard, Chiloni vs. Charedi, and the anti-IDF sentiment that is brewing all over the country. I have had plenty of frustrating and painful experiences trying to “absorb” into the culture. I hate the pressurized atmosphere of a people who are always on constant guard against enemies constantly seeking their lives. And don’t get me started on the driving and creative parking! I abhor the politics, and the politicizing of just about everything. I hate the bureaucracy which is on a whole new level of teeth-gnashing incompetence. I remember that it can also be totally frustrating to live there. Why do you have to go to the post office to pay certain bills? Why aren’t banks open at normal hours? And forget the medical system - it is enough to drive anyone batty.

I would miss the Yankees and the Food Channel. And I love having Sundays to relax and do things, and an extra day off for Christmas, New Year’s and Thanksgiving. In that, I am very American.

On the other hand, I miss the sweeping and breathtaking beauty of the land. I miss the center of the world. I miss the feeling of brotherhood which binds everyone together when tragedies occur. I miss fresh rolls in the morning and the 10 o’clock mandatory coffee break. I miss the uniquely Israeli experiences and cultural phenomena.

I know that my friends have dispersed or died and that life as I knew it is no longer possible. But I look back with longing on the little cafes in Baka that we used to sit in and gossip. I miss the theater in the German Colony of which I was an integral part. I miss exploring parts of the city that tourists don’t get to with my friends. I miss having people who have lived there for many years guide us around their towns and cities and make them come alive. I miss my adoptive families and watching them grow up, go to army and college, and being part of their everyday life.

I am torn between my hearts desires and my practical logical brain. There are so many hurdles to overcome if I was serious about trying again. I wonder if people make “3 year” pilot trips or something where they don’t actually commit to staying there, so it’s less scary to actually go. I wonder if the changes in the social and political structures are going to prove to be absolutely unbearable for me to live with.

I guess it is all romanticized conjecture anyways, because Chewy and I have more or less decided together that it isn’t realistic or feasible for us to plan to go back.

Still, I can’t help missing it and wondering…