On Returning to Israel

            Return trips to a country are treats, as you can disregard the tourist sights and absorb the everyday life.  For two days I’ve been just walking around, not caring about culture or history, just looking at shops, people and buildings, trying to read signs (with varying degrees of success) and marveling at what has been accomplished on this patch of Earth in less than 100 years.  Tel Aviv continues to grow; cranes and construction equipment blast my ears all day and skyscrapers line the Mediterranean shore.

I caught myself choking up every once in a while during the first day and a half.  From far away, it's easy to think of Israel as a fragile place, doomed to a precarious future, surrounded by nations and groups bent on its obliteration.  But here, seeing life going on, dodging the bicyclists (who apparently are entitled to the sidewalks), gauging the population’s sophistication from their dress, their autos and even their pet dogs, Israel exudes confidence.  I'm reminded that this confidence rests on commitment: the fresh young faces in military uniform mean that all this accomplishment rests on never-ending danger.  Natan Alterman’s memorial poem to the Haganah soldiers who died during the War of Independence, put it succinctly: "We are the silver platter on which the Jewish state was given."

But one can’t be somber in Tel Aviv for long.  It’s a relaxed city, once you don’t think about the traffic, which is a pedestrian-car roulette game.  It’s wholly Mediterranean: low, flat-roofed apartment blocks, flowers and plants and vines trailing on the balconies along with clothes and flags (Independence Day was only a week and a half ago), outdoor cafes and restaurants.  The sun is strong, but even stronger breezes ease the heat.  The beach is Tel Aviv’s backyard; everyone’s either jogging, lying around, playing paddle-ball and sometimes even swimming.  There were kite-surfers and regular surfers, too.

            I walked through working-class and historic neighborhoods (although in Tel Aviv, “historic” means anything pretty much before World War II).  Ducked into galleries in Jaffa, Tel Aviv’s older, more established neighbor city, now a warren of art and trendiness.  I could definitely spend more time here—have to start planning the next trip.