Magazine Archive

MAGAZINE

Living in Israel from a Distance

How being away in times of crisis makes home matter more
Abigail Zamir
|
8 min read
Compass

Many Voices, One Community

LGBTQ+ Culture in Tel Aviv and Beyond
Abigail Zamir
|
3 min read
Pride

Family: The Conversation I Avoid Most

When home is a timezone away, family becomes a question with no easy answer.
Sahar Axel
|
9 min read

Freedom Means Everyone

When their lives were turned upside down, the families and friends of the hostages turned pain into purpose. Their creativity became a lifeline—keeping their loved ones visible and reminding the world not to look away.
Noa Lara Meir
|
5 min read
Hands and seeds

‘Into the Wild’

Einav Stern on Solo Travel, Nature and Self-Reliance.
Abigail Zamir
|
6 min read

Sisterhood is the future

Three Israeli communities that prove we’re better together.
Daniella Tourgeman
|
4 min read
Sisterhood

Cross-Cultural Relationships

Embracing differences and building a life with mutual understanding.
Abigail Zamir
|
9 min read
A couple walking in the field

When Art Speaks: Reflections of October 7th

Art has a magical way of transforming complex emotions, helping us process and navigate them into new forms of expression. Here are some inspiring examples from the past year.
Noa Lara Meir
|
4 min read
Shoshke's daily postcard

Where Are You From?

For Israelis abroad, this simple question stirs complex emotions.
Abigail Zamir
|
6 min read
Home is where

Must-Knows Before Making Aliyah

10 tips for a smoother adjustment.
Abigail Zamir
|
5 min read
Israel on a map
Compass

Living in Israel from a Distance

Abigail Zamir
|
8 min read
How being away in times of crisis makes home matter more
Pride

Many Voices, One Community

Abigail Zamir
|
3 min read
LGBTQ+ Culture in Tel Aviv and Beyond

Family: The Conversation I Avoid Most

Sahar Axel
|
9 min read
When home is a timezone away, family becomes a question with no easy answer.
Hands and seeds

Freedom Means Everyone

Noa Lara Meir
|
5 min read
When their lives were turned upside down, the families and friends of the hostages turned pain into purpose. Their creativity became a lifeline—keeping their loved ones visible and reminding the world not to look away.
Einav Stern

‘Into the Wild’

Abigail Zamir
|
6 min read
Einav Stern on Solo Travel, Nature and Self-Reliance.
Sisterhood

Sisterhood is the future

Daniella Tourgeman
|
4 min read
Three Israeli communities that prove we’re better together.
A couple walking in the field

Cross-Cultural Relationships

Abigail Zamir
|
9 min read
Embracing differences and building a life with mutual understanding.
Shoshke's Daily Postcard

When Art Speaks: Reflections of October 7th

Noa Lara Meir
|
4 min read
Art has a magical way of transforming complex emotions, helping us process and navigate them into new forms of expression. Here are some inspiring examples from the past year.
A little wooden house

Where Are You From?

Abigail Zamir
|
6 min read
For Israelis abroad, this simple question stirs complex emotions.
Jaffa and the sea

Must-Knows Before Making Aliyah

Abigail Zamir
|
5 min read
10 tips for a smoother adjustment.
Load More

Let's keep you in the loop

Fresh takes on Israel, Hebrew, and culture, straight to your inbox.

Skip to main content

Hebrew Nugget:

Living in Israel from a Distance

Compass
Last month, Israel was at war with Iran for twelve consecutive days. The entire country was under attack from hundreds of missiles at a time, sending us to the bomb shelters day and night. This adds to the burden and anguish of the greater war that has enveloped our lives for the past two years. There’s an ongoing internal discussion about whether to stay in Israel when times are so hard, especially for families with young children and couples who haven’t started a family yet. Protesting every week for the return of the hostages and fighting for a better and more peaceful future in Israel has become emotionally and physically draining. Even as I write these words, a wave of guilt washes over me, as my house is still intact, I have a job that supports me, and a healthy family and partner.  After weighing all the pros and cons, some people have decided to take the risk and move to another country. Whether for a set period to calm the nervous system or for an extended stay that will hopefully bring some peace and stability, Niv, Daniel, and Metsada have agreed to share their personal experiences of living abroad. Their answers reveal the tension and dissonance of living physically in Spain, Germany, and New York while emotionally leaving your heart and mind in Israel. And while in Israel everyone gets it and shares the same experience, abroad, feelings of worry and alienation are almost tangible.

Metsada, Staying in New York

“I officially started my nomadic working journey in May 2024, a few months after October 7th. I recall that at the time, I just felt the need to get away and get some fresh air. I thought that traveling would do me good, that distancing myself from all the pain would help. But a few weeks before the flight, when I already had a ticket to Argentina, my younger brother was sent back into Gaza as a combat soldier. For weeks, I walked around with the feeling that I was making a mistake by leaving the country. I kept asking myself, how can I go when my brother is fighting in Gaza? I felt selfish, as if I were leaving my family behind. But at the same time, staying close also hurt. Even when I decided that I wouldn’t listen to the news at my apartment, the news found its way to me. It was unavoidable. Then the day of the flight came, and I took off. At that point, the world still felt “on our side.” At least, that was my experience. In Argentina, every time someone found out I was from Israel, they’d hug me. They told me how much they were thinking of us, and how they hoped all our people would return home safely, and that it would all end soon. It was the same in Brazil and Mexico. I didn’t feel unsafe as an Israeli. I didn’t feel the need to hide it. On the contrary, I was able to speak openly and share. A year later, everything has changed. Maybe it also has to do with the places I’ve been visiting over the past four months. I’ve been to Switzerland, Paris, and New York, and I no longer say where I’m from. When I’m asked, I pause for a moment. I look the person in the eyes and try to sense how they might react. On rare occasions, I tell where I am from. A few days ago, I was sitting in a coffee shop when it began pouring rain suddenly. The girl sitting next to me and I were both caught off guard and started laughing. That moment turned into a light and funny conversation, and we even exchanged numbers. After about twenty minutes of talking, just as she was about to leave the café, she asked me where I was from, and I felt safe enough to tell her. But at that moment, something in her expression told me I would never hear from her again. I can’t quite say what it was, or what she was thinking of. Maybe she isn’t well informed about everything that’s happening, and her stance comes from fear or uncertainty. I don’t know. But I want to believe that as human beings, we give each other the chance to be seen for who we are, and not for where we come from. Metsada Elimelch

Daniel, Staying in Berlin

I had been in Berlin for about a week when it all started; before that, I was still in Israel. Even before all the craziness began, I had already made plans to travel over the weekend to a small juggling festival. Of course, the entire way there, I was absorbed in the news and messages with my family. I was there with two other Israeli friends and lots of Germans living their lives comfortably and freely. It was an insane dissonance: the location I was at, surrounded by nature, sunsets, and “free-spirited” people enjoying themselves and getting to know one another, versus the reality I was experiencing of constant worry for friends and family and fear for what was yet to come. After the festival, I was at a two-week sublet in an apartment with non-Israeli roommates, some of whom were even hostile toward Israel. No one asked me how my family was or how I was feeling. Before I moved into the apartment and all the craziness started, I was asked not to talk about political topics, and they made sure my opinions weren’t extreme for them. Once, when one of the other roommates brought up the topic of Israel, she said that what Israel is doing in Gaza isn’t right because no one is trying to expel the Jews from Israel, so that was the level of ignorance I was surrounded by. Fortunately and luckily, I have lots of Israeli friends here in Berlin who helped relieve the pressure, and I stayed in daily contact with my family in Ramat Gan. When you’re in Israel in situations like these, you feel like you know exactly what you’re supposed to do, and you feel like you know how to handle the situation. It gives you a certainty that I didn’t have here in Germany. On the other hand, my mom was happy I left the country just in time because it was one less person for her to worry about, so I’m glad I could give her some peace of mind. I feel relieved in Europe. As Israelis, we’ve gotten used to very bizarre situations, and these constant fears and threats have changed us. There’s relief in hearing a motorcycle, jumping for a moment because it sounds like a siren, and then realizing that you’re not even in the country. This constant nervousness is bubbling inside us, finding its way out in ways we’re sometimes unaware of: whether it’s impatience on the roads and in lines, or intolerance for social complexities.  It’s true that abroad we’re forced to give up a part of ourselves because we feel compelled to hide our Israeliness, but right now it feels healthier to me compared to the situation in Israel. It’s not an escape from being Israeli, but a conscious choice to handle the challenges of being an Israeli abroad rather than at home. Daniel in Berlin

Niv, Living in Spain

Shortly after my second child was born, we set out to wander the world. Not with the idea of leaving Israel, but with the thought of discovering new places, new cultures, and different landscapes. It’s been almost four years now that we’ve been outside Israel. My wife and I work remotely, and the kids know Hebrew, English, Spanish, and a bit of Thai. I feel like I’m giving them a different and special life experience that, maybe one day, they’ll be thankful for. There are still many places I’d like to see in the world, so we’re not thinking of returning to Israel anytime soon. But we find ourselves forming the deepest connections specifically with Israelis we meet. Every significant event, whether social or security-related, takes on a much larger dimension when you’re abroad. I feel the difference between how things are covered in the news and reach me when I’m outside Israel, versus the reality of daily life there. When I open the news and see something big happening – protests around the judicial overhaul, a security event like October 7th, even minor incidents – that becomes the main thing happening in Israel for me. You can’t ignore it, no matter what you’re doing or where you are. But the reality I lived in Israel was different. Daily life there is almost routine: you need to eat, shower, put the kids to bed in the evening, and go to work in the morning. Most of the small things that make up our routine continue in one way or another. From the outside looking in, though, this normalcy feels impossible. Your heart aches so much for everything happening in Israel, and you worry about the future of the country and the people living there. During these difficult times that Israel has been going through for a very long time now, I cope with the situation in the country mainly thanks to the thought that I’m happy my children aren’t going through what other children are going through in Israel. I worry about the generation growing up today, with difficult wars and tragic events. I went through this myself as an Israeli, and of course, there are positive aspects to it in a certain way. But I think it’s better for a person not to have to deal with the things that so many Israelis have to deal with.  The connection with friends and family helps me understand how things look for people in Israel, and every so often, I try to adopt the opposite strategy – disconnection. Not reading the news and not keeping up with what’s happening for a few days. The distance and time create a growing longing in me, which is the opposite of what I thought would happen. I suppose one day we’ll return, but I assume a lot of time will pass until then. Niv Rubin's Family