This was originally a letter home to my good friend Shawn Reagan. I noticed it does a good job at recapping what’s been happening, so I’ve reproduced it here with his permission.
I’ve become a lot more outgoing in the previous few days. It really isn’t about getting a phone number, making friends, or even learning the other person’s name. As I’m sure you remember, being in Austin I would have no qualms at all talking to someone I didn’t know, but moving to Tel Aviv has made me trigger-shy–even minor pleasantries such as “How is your day?” are unused.
The great thing I’m finding about talking to people without any goal outside of talking to people is that they aren’t any different than those back home. If anything they’re friendlier. And, really, what do I have to lose? If I embarrass myself (hasn’t happened yet), it’s not like that will spread through my social circle. Plus I’ve been told I have the “foreigner advantage.” I still can’t imagine my American accent–weak as it is–gives me much of a boost, but I wouldn’t pass it up.
In Jerusalem I went to the Old City, to the shuk (market) and to the spot where Jews first lived outside the walls. Within the Old City, we walked around a lot and ventured inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and stopped by the Western Wall.
The Church was certainly gorgeous, though if I did it again I would get a tour guide or take a paper guide with me. Everything was amazing, but I didn’t know what anything was. The Western Wall was much larger than I had anticipated. At the same time, it felt much more modern, as well. I hope this isn’t sacrilege, but I felt the same way at the Wall as I did my first time at the Alamo.
Being among all of the tourists was interesting. I sometimes see people here in Tel Aviv that I know are tourists, but as I go throughout my days, I’m generally the only American and the only gentile. I’m certainly not Israeli, but I don’t feel like a tourist, either. Tourism implies something very fleeting, necessarily brief. I’ve pushed back against that idea–I want to set roots here, not just have a story to tell back home. In fact, I’ve noticed that I’ve been very insistent on using the word “move” when I refer to this. That is very much in the air and will be much harder than I originally anticipated, but I feel that if I start to refer to it as something temporary, it will be more likely to become that thing.
[Removed some mentions unrelated to my move, but I think this next line is relevant.] The homestretch is always the hardest, I feel, because all of a sudden this becomes very real. And then it happens and you think, “Wait, aren’t I supposed to feel something here?” But there’s always something new to work on, to focus on, and to take your attention.