I realized today, somewhere in Tel Aviv, between riding the Dan bus line – walking on Dizengoff – and getting served in a bakery-cafe – that I must be categorized as Yerushalmi. There is such an enormous difference between Tel Avivians and Yerushalmis. It’s like the difference between Brooklynites and Manhattanites: the view, the pace, the glare. All different.
In my head I’ve been living in the country-at-large, but now I realize after two years that I belong to a city. That includes belonging to the city-culture, the city-tradition, the city-stereotypes. That city is Jerusalem.
And as soon as I sort out the next move, I’m getting out of it.