I arrived to Israel after a surprisingly painless flight across the pond through Los
Angeles, CA and Newark, NJ. The first leg of my flight (5.5 hours) went
by very smoothly as I read a few pages of my book, took a nap, rinsed
and repeated. My connecting flight in Newark was more noteworthy,
however. There was a secondary screening area just outside my gate in
terminal which is apparently standard operating procedure for flights
headed to Israel. It was among my fellow passengers that I had my first
taste of what the demography of Israel would look like: Hasidic Jews,
Christian pilgrimage groups, Arabs, birthrighters, and then me.
My arrival into Ben Gurion Int’l Airport was fairly smooth. I chatted with a young New Yorker (adorned in a kippah and tallit)
when in line for customs, picked up my baggage without a hitch, and met
my driver for the quick ride to the hotel. My driver was a nice guy who
spoke English fairly well and did not wait one minute before beginning
to talk to me about the Arab-Israeli conflict (interesting given that we
were in Tel Aviv, but more about that later). He pointed out the
mountains that I flew over before landing, which, thanks to the IDF,
“prevented my plane from being shot out of the sky by Arabs;” the
mounting crisis in Syria, Obama’s recent visits, and several other
topics. I spent the first night wandering around the local neighborhood
and I was struck by how similar the Tel Aviv beachfront area is to the
beach communities in Southern California. People rode bikes, walked
dogs, licked popsicles, etc. and appeared as if completely unaware that a
political/religious/cultural conflict was being waged just a few dozen
kilometers to the east. After a few more blocks of roaming, I grabbed a
quick shawarma sandwich and was on my way back to the hotel to catch up on some sleep.
The next day my group toured the old port city of Jaffa, and learned
about how Jaffa gave rise to one of the first major metropolitan and
predominantly Jewish neighborhoods in the land. Jaffa is a gorgeous and
picturesque old city that reminded me a lot of Toledo, Spain; a towering
fortress of a city, built from rock, with lush gardens and tall
steeples everywhere you look. Walking back to downtown Tel Aviv from the
Old City of Jaffa I had my first introduction to the vast discrepancy
of wealth and general living conditions of Arab (and also in Tel Aviv’s
case, Eritrean) minorities living in Israel. Tel Aviv is an incredibly
expensive city to live in, and even young/educated Israeli youth have
difficulty finding good jobs and affordable housing. The neighborhoods
outside Jaffa were littered with abandoned buildings, bad odors,
panhandlers, and generally unpleasant vistas when compared to the exotic
beach area a few kilometers north. My group and I proceeded to visit
the Israeli Independence Hall, which is surprisingly lackluster in its
outside appearance (as most everyone who has been there would agree).
Inside, I was captivated by the story of Tel Aviv’s creation. 66 Jewish
families, fed up with marginalization and lack of economic prospects in
Jaffa, relocated to the sand dunes of the Israeli desert and decided to
break new ground for their small society. That small enclave grew to
become the second largest city in Israel, and certainly one of the most
culturally vibrant. Inside Independence Hall, we also received a short
(yet VERY religious, probably because of the birthright group we shared
the hall with) presentation on the state of Israel’s proclamation of
Independence on May 14, 1948.
We spent our final day in Tel Aviv at our own leisure. I chose to
spend the day on the beach soaking up some sun, swimming a bit, and
playing volleyball of course. I was very fortunate to meet up with a
close friend from back in the U.S. and pick her brain about what it’s
like living in Tel Aviv from an American expatriate’s point of view.
Even she admitted to discovering a different Israel on the ground than
the one she had grown up learning about back in the States, in both good
ways and bad. After a great night of drinks, pasta, froyo, and shared
stories, we parted ways and I went to bed content with all that I had
learned and experienced when in Tel Aviv.
Takeaways: Tel Aviv is a beautiful, laid back, and
charming city that you would swear was located somewhere in Orange
County, CA if it weren’t for the Hebrew signs on every corner. As my
group was told beforehand, which I later confirmed, Israelis living in
Tel Aviv lead vastly different lifestyles than their counterparts in
Jerusalem. Women walk around in bikinis, there are posters for gay night
clubs, people drink beer on the beach as they work on their tans, and
so on. Tel Avivians do not preoccupy themselves with the political
turmoil that plagues Jerusalem and Israel at-large simply because they
do not have to. There are few, if any, Palestinians living in Tel Aviv,
and the West Bank is a foreign land too far off to the east to give any
serious thought to (unless you work for one of many NGOs or embassies).
Tel Aviv natives are more posh, certainly more secular, and tend to
desire more metropolitan lifestyles versus more religious ones. This is
not to say that Tel Aviv is immune to the realities of being inside
Israel and the Middle East. In November of 2012, residents of Tel Aviv
were subject to rocket attacks launched from the Gaza Strip as a result
of the IDF-led Operation Pillar of Defense. Without hesitation residents
huddled in their bomb shelters, as they had been trained to do, and
when the ‘all clear’ sound was given they simply returned to their cafes
and paddleball games to resume their normal lives. I would be remiss if
I said that Tel Aviv was immune or oblivious to the Arab-Israeli
conflict, but it seems that they are certainly apathetic to it. Tel
Avivians tend to be more preoccupied with finding a job, finding a
house, and finding a beer, than they are with finding a bible, and it
was very interesting to have this city be my first exposure to Israel.
Jerusalem will be a lot different, I am sure, and I look forward to
juxtaposing the two cities in my next post.