The answer, of course, is complicated. The immediate driver is watching the Perseid meteor shower from the Negev desert, something Jess had suggested years ago. So it definitely feels a little bittersweet to be here on my own. But the bigger question I'm trying to understand is my relationship to Israel, and why I came away from my last visit with such an affinity for it.
After all, I hadn't converted to Judaism at the time--hadn't even considered it. I loved Amsterdam and Prague, but they didn't move me like Israel. And more than that, I had a really hard time the last time I was in Israel, so by all accounts I should really dislike it.
It was March 2009, nine months after I'd moved to London, and eight months after I'd met Jess. I'd been struggling to find a job, struggling to pay my bills, and struggling to integrate into British life. I had just moved out of my flat and was staying with Jess, but it was clear she wasn't comfortable with that. And I was fast approaching the deadline that if I didn't find a job soon, I would not be able to renew my work permit, and would have to leave the UK.
I had no idea that just one month later, I would have a flat and a job, and finally start to feel at home. But at the time I was depressed, full of self-doubt, and this was not the right time to spend £1,000 to go on holiday with Jess' entire family for a wedding in Israel.
So of course I said yes. But I did tell Jess before I left that I was at a very low point, and was going to have had a hard time coping with so many new people, and that I really needed her support while we were there. Instead, she ignored me during the entire trip.
Of course it's not fair to put it all on her, but having reached out and got nothing back, even I realised that was a red flag in a relationship, and so I broke up with her. In the middle of the trip. I recognise that wasn't the best time, especially surrounded by her entire family, but I've never been one to hide my emotions.
So against that backdrop of emotional turmoil, I visited Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, Masada and the Dead Sea, Caeserea and Eilat, Petra and Wadi Rum, each more spectacular than the last, each steeped in history, each a thriving, living place. In ten days I was completely overwhelmed by the beauty and the spectacle. The people I met were open and accommodating. It was such an incredible feeling, even as my own inner resources were crumbling within.
That is my personal history with Israel. I know its political history, and I certainly don't agree with everything they've done, but I will say it's a miracle they even exist. In 1948 Jerusalem was a forgotten backwater of the Ottoman empire; Tel Aviv was nothing but sand dunes; it was literally a worthless part of the middle-east -- they only country not to have oil! -- and the transformation over the past 75 years is nothing short of miraculous. Of course they still have a ways to go, and a lot of internal politics to sort out, but I'm very optimistic about its future.
And in part that's why I'm here, to see if I want to be part of its future. Ever since I converted--and migrating became an option--it's been in the back of my mind. Yes, it would be an incredibly difficult transition, much harder than moving to England, but Israel is one of the few countries that actively helps immigrants integrate with society, from language classes to job assistance. (You are even assigned a "mentor family!") So while it would be an incredible challenge, it would also be an incredible opportunity.
So stepping out of Ben Gurion airport this evening, into the darkening twilight and the warm, humid air, brought back a lot of memories, some harder than others. But it's time I faced this stalking horse that has been chasing me for four years, try to better understand this country, and hopefully understand a bit more of myself in the process.
My itinerary (you may have to zoom out)
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