Tel Aviv

View of Tel Aviv from the walk to Jaffa.

I am writing from my apartment, 4 floors above Ben Yehuda, a centrally located street filled with boutiques, sushi bars, organic cafes, and the occasional falafel stand; all of this just two blocks from the sprawling Mediterranean beaches.  The past three days have been a combination of euphoria, disbelief, and an overwhelming desire to explore all of my surroundings.

It is nearly impossible not to feel at home; aside from a brief moment of stomach churning realization (I’m thousands of miles from home and can’t understand a word of Hebrew!), the city has already transitioned into a constant source of comfort and contentment in my mind.

Often times Israel and its people are compared to Sabra, a cactus fruit; it is spiky on the outside and contains a watermelon-like, sweet inside.  I have to disagree with this metaphor; sure, Israelis are a straightforward, no BS people.  But this exterior is hardly unpleasant and becomes immediately irrelevant in any one-on-one conversation.  On our first night in Tel Aviv, a waitress literally sat down and talked with us through our meal, leaving us her name and number in the hopes that she could help us adjust to the country and perhaps show us the best bars in town.  Since then we’ve met Israelis anywhere and everywhere, and each time they are beyond eager to hear about our program, our lives, and share in our experiences.  Here, a dinner invitation to one’s home is genuine and an offer to meet for coffee is a legitimate addition to one’s calendar.

I am surrounded by incredible scenery, unparalleled history, and generous people; I can’t imagine a better place to be spending the next five months (and maybe more!).