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Dear Family and Friends,

I write you this morning from a bohemian-esque café on Rothschild Boulevard in Tel Aviv. There is a vibe of contemporary, cosmopolitan living, with people lounging and chatting casually over lattes and pastries. Some folks are clicking away on laptops, while others roll past on modern, collapsible bicycles. Make no mistake, Tel Aviv is a twenty-first century city.

Incidentally, if I were to head only fifty kilometers to the east, I would cross into one of the world’s most politically charged areas. Yet, this café feels a million miles away from controversy or chaos or violence.

Earlier in the week I make my departure from the goat farm. Overall I was appreciating the adventure, but I needed to get back to Tel Aviv to address a visa application concern for my October destination. I also interested in maximizing my time in Israel, and experiencing more of this complex and seductive culture. I came with the desire to form an introductory analysis of the nation, and the demographic that is drawn to organic goat farming is only a portion of the multifaceted portrait of Israel.

After three weeks in Israel, I’m not sure if I’ve come to any grand conclusions about the nation, it’s people or the complicated political conditions that exists. As with the post-Katrina reality of New Orleans and the lingering systemic racism of South Africa, my general reaction is to social and political magnitudes is to tilt my head to one side and state, “Wow, this situation is more complex then I could have imagined.”

I’m trying to avoid the “It’s too big and I’m too small” response that would simply release me from any further exploration of tough subjects. I can do better, or so I tell myself.

Yet despite the massive and problematic political intricacies of Israel, good things are happening to me. The greatest part of my time in Israel, apart from walking with baby goats (obviously), has been engaging in tête-à-têtes with individuals about how they relate to this land of complexities. The goat farm actually provided numerous opportunities to conversationalize with Israelis and international volunteers, while being in Tel Aviv has kept the discussions flowing.

Here are five people who live in Israel that have been gracious enough to share some of their experiences with me.

*          *          *

Slava was born in the USSR. He came to Israel with his family at the age of six, when it was safe to escape the communist state, and grew up in the coastal city of Akko. When I inquired about his military service, he bounced back, “Have you seen The Hurt Locker? My task was essential the same. I dismantled bombs.” Now Slava is finished his military service and exploring what his next move in life will be. We chatted about family and travel and dreams. I encouraged him to chase his dream of becoming a marine biologist.

Yula is a beautiful young woman in the middle of her military service who has come to the farm for the weekend. Like many of the folks in her generation, she went through a process of deciding whether or not she would elude the mandatory army service. Some of her friends played “crazy” when meeting with the military psychologists, she told me. Yula is based in Tel Aviv where she works an administrative office job, sees her boyfriend regularly and takes frequent weekend trips to Jerusalem to visit her parents. The military service actually provides a bit of job training.

Gino is a father of three, living and working in Yodefat, the neighboring town. He has a quiet demeanor, and patiently guided me through a plumbing project on the farm. During an afternoon break, and over a steaming cup of cardamom-infused Arabic coffee, I asked him what might be the national sport of Israel. Without missing a beat he replied, “We don’t have time for sports. We’re too busy fighting.” I believe he might have only been half-joking.

In Tel Aviv I’ve had the pleasure of coinciding schedules with a reader of The Conversationalist from Japan. Koji shared with me his photos of his current life in Tubas, working on a fair-trade olive oil project. After watching images on western news stations of bullet-strewn buildings and weeping Arab widows, it’s easy to might imagine that life in the West Bank is anything but boring or stable. But, paradoxically, Koji’s biggest complaint wasn’t concern for his safety – his day-to-day work seemed actually quite benign – but simply that there is a lack of stimulating activities for a foreigner such as himself.

Last night I sat and drank wine with an Israeli pop star. Ivri Lider is a platinum-selling recording artist and producer, and incidentally the first openly gay musician in the Middle East. On his website there is a photo of Ivri wearing a T-shirt that says, “I LOVE MY COUNTRY.” I asked him about what exactly this statement meant to him. He asserted that it’s not meant to be interpreted in a “Jewish-pride/This-is-my-Holy-Land” sort of way. Instead his love for Israel is based on that fact that his family and friends and life and personal history are here. Ivri expressed me that it’s easy to judge from the outside, but that people can’t truly understand Israel without being here. (Stay tuned for a full-length interview with Ivri in the coming days.)

*          *          *

I feel like I could spend a lifetime in Israel, simply excavating for stories. This land is rich in ruins and narratives. Yet, with the complexities, it refuses to permit me to draw conclusions.

And so, at this moment, I won’t.

xoxo

Daniel

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