Monday, the day I left New York, I met a friend in the city to hang for a bit; he just moved to New York from Tel Aviv so his perspective is still fresh.
The conversation came to the usual point, of how impersonal New York is and how in-your-face Israel is. I forget that every time I get to New York. It’s always a culture shock for me.
The same goes for coming home. I forget the in-your-face that is my culture here.
And that culture never fails to remind me as soon as I land. As soon as I start putting my hand through the border control I.D. scan and some middle age Israeli guy comes from behind me and starts telling me what to do, even as my receipt prints out. And then wishes me well, saying in broken English, “Welcome to eretz.”