So you’re making aliyah. Lotsa Mazel. You’ve filled out forms, tracked down original copies of birth certificates, found proof that you’re Jewish, made copies of the copies, and started imagining your new life. You’ll drink coffee overlooking the Mediterranean. You’ll easily remember all that pre-Bar/Bat Mitzvah Hebrew. You’ll eat fresh pita, walk the streets your ancestors could only have dreamed of walking again, and watch Friday afternoon become something completely different from the Fridays you knew in America. All of that may happen.
BUT! You’re also going to need a bank account, a health fund, an Israeli ID, an Israeli phone number, an apartment, probably an ulpan, possibly an Israeli driver’s license, and the ability to understand why three people are yelling at each other when nobody is actually angry. Moving to another country is easier when you don’t arrive expecting your old country with different scenery.
Israel isn’t America with better hummus. But yay, welcome home.
Aliyah literally means “ascent.” In this case…it means immigrating to Israel as a Jew. The person doing it is an oleh if he’s a man and an olah if she’s a woman. If you’re actually doing this, you’ll probably know those words long before you land at Ben-Gurion. It’s the words that come next that will take over your life.
Your te’udat oleh is your immigrant certificate. Your te’udat zehut is your Israeli identity card, and you’re going to be asked for that number constantly. There’s also the sal klita, the “absorption basket,” a form of financial assistance paid to eligible new immigrants during their first months in Israel. New olim may qualify for other benefits involving Hebrew study, taxes, education, housing, and professional integration…all depending on their circumstances.
Learn what you’re entitled to before you go. Nobody is going to chase you down the street waving money because you forgot to apply for something. And buy a folder. Actually, buy two. Or buy them in bulk on Amazon…before you head over to your new home.
Not Amazon. Amazon ships to Israel, though not everything ships there. And international delivery isn’t the same as the American Prime next-day delivery experience many of us are addicted to. Israel also has plenty of online shopping. Wolt may get dinner, groceries, or something from a pharmacy to you before you’ve finished complaining that you need it.
But Americans have become accustomed to a rather ridiculous standard. At 11:16 p.m., we can decide we need a shower curtain, three batteries, a garden hose, and a waffle maker, press a button, go to sleep, and become irritated if they’re not on the porch tomorrow. That isn’t necessarily how shopping for everything will work in Israel.
You may actually have to go shopping in a real store. Israel can get food to your apartment in 20 minutes. The bookcase, frying pan, night light…those may take a while.
Brace yourself…this one may hurt. If you’re selling a fairly new 3,200-square-foot house in, say, Texas. A two-story with four bedrooms, 2.5 baths, a big kitchen, walk-in closets, a two-car garage, a yard, and every builder upgrade offered, don’t assume you’re going to reproduce that life in Israel for what you get from the sale. You might want to sit down before opening the Israeli real-estate listings.
Housing is expensive. Super expensive. And in the most costly parts of the country, the kind of space Americans take for granted can move into a price category with a lot more zeroes. Tel Aviv and Jerusalem are obvious examples, although prices vary considerably around the country. Unless you’re arriving in a very comfortable tax bracket, there may be some major…MAJOR downsizing in your future. Possibly a lot of downsizing. You’ll probably have more storage in your computer than in your new apartment.
Which brings us to machsan. That’s Hebrew for a storage room. You may see one attached to an apartment, elsewhere in the building, or not at all. Back in Texas you wouldn’t have cared. Three months into Israeli apartment hunting, someone says, “There’s a machsan,” and suddenly you’re in love.
There are a couple of other housing terms worth knowing. Arnona is the municipal property tax, which is generally paid by the person living in the property. Va’ad bayit is the building fee that residents pay for services such as cleaning, elevator maintenance, and common area maintenance. These are expenses you want to know about before signing anything, not after you’ve fallen in love with the balcony.
There is another feature you should really consider: the mamad. A mamad is a reinforced protected room inside a home or apartment, with a reinforced door and window. Newer Israeli homes generally have them because protected rooms were incorporated into Israeli construction standards after the Gulf War. Older buildings may have a communal bomb shelter or another designated protected area instead.
Yeah, this is apparently a part of apartment hunting.
“How many bedrooms?”
“Is parking included?”
“Where’s the bomb shelter?”
Welcome to a country where incoming missiles are something ordinary people actually have to plan for. The time available to reach protected space after an alert varies by where you live, so don’t treat this as an afterthought. Find out where the protected space is before signing a lease, how quickly everyone in the family can reach it, and what the Home Front Command instructions are for that area.
That doesn’t mean Israelis spend their lives huddled in shelters. They’re at work, at school, drinking coffee, going to the beach, sitting in traffic, and yelling at the person in front of them who failed to move 0.3 seconds after the light turned green. Life goes on. You just know where the mamad is.
You had six years of Hebrew school, which is excellent news because somewhere inside your brain you can still identify a boy, a girl, a house, a book, and possibly a pencil. Your pre-Bar/Bat Mitzvah Hebrew will come flooding back. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself.
Then a real-life Israeli talks to you.
The Hebrew teacher you had when you were twelve spoke ssssuuuuper slowly because she wanted you to understand her. The guy behind you at the bakery has no such investment in your success. You’ll proudly ask a question in Hebrew, get an answer in Hebrew, and discover that you hadn’t really planned for the second half of this conversation.
This is why ulpan exists. Ulpan is intensive Hebrew instruction, and eligible new olim can receive government assistance for it. Go. Even if you’re moving to a community where you could probably survive in English, learning Hebrew changes how independently you can live, work, make friends, deal with government offices, understand what’s happening around you, and become part of the country rather than living alongside it.
Eventually you’ll have your first entire conversation in Hebrew. You’ll understand him. He’ll understand you. You’ll be so proud of yourself.
Then….he’ll ask a follow-up question. Back to ulpan you go.
Israeli conversation may take American ears a minute. Two people are talking loudly, one is waving his hands, the other keeps interrupting, and you’ve been there for three days so you’re fairly certain you’re about to witness a homicide. They’re discussing lunch.
Israeli directness can be an adjustment too. Americans use a lot of cushioning: “I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if there’s any chance you might possibly...” Israelis have already lost interest. Ask the question.
You may initially think people are rude. Sometimes people are rude; Israel didn’t solve that particular human problem. But sometimes they’re simply being direct in a culture where directness isn’t interpreted the way it is in America. Give it time. One day you’ll come back to the United States, someone will spend five minutes trying not to hurt your feelings while asking you to move your car, and you’ll understand what happened to you.
You need milk. You also need toilet paper. This…is unfortunate.
Shabbat isn’t only something religious Israelis observe. It affects the country's rhythm, though how much depends largely on where you live. Jerusalem and Tel Aviv aren’t the same, and neither are individual neighborhoods. Businesses close, most regular public transportation stops, and Friday afternoon starts winding down.
Learn where you live, because the time to discover what closes for Shabbat is not when you're down to half a roll of toilet paper. There is another adjustment awaiting Americans on the other side of Shabbat: Sunday is a regular workday and the beginning of the Israeli workweek. That one may mess with you for a while.
You’re going to learn some more Hebrew whether you want to or not. Bituach Leumi is Israel’s National Insurance Institute, which administers social insurance programs and benefits. Misrad HaPnim is the Interior Ministry. Misrad HaKlita is the name you’ll still hear used for the Ministry of Aliyah and Integration, which handles many of the services and benefits for new immigrants.
This is also where the folder comes in. Keep your te’udat oleh, identification, immigration documents, bank information, housing documents, health information, licenses, certificates, and anything else that looks remotely important. Save digital copies too. Israel has moved many government services online, but when someone tells you to bring a document, bring it.
You came to participate in the return of the Jewish people to their ancestral homeland after 2,000 years. There may be a form involved.
Israel has universal national health insurance. Instead of choosing among the particular American varieties of healthcare-induced rage, you’ll register with one of four health funds: Clalit, Maccabi, Meuhedet, or Leumit. The Hebrew term is kupat holim, and you’ll also hear people shorten it to kupah.
This is where you’ll get most of your healthcare. You’ll choose a fund, find doctors who work within it, and learn the Israeli systems for appointments, referrals, specialists, prescriptions, and supplemental coverage. It’s not utopia. There can be wait times, bureaucracy, and services that aren’t fully covered.
Americans may still need a minute to adjust to a healthcare conversation that doesn’t begin with “Have you met your deductible?” If you take medication regularly, do some homework before moving. Bring your medical records, know the generic names of your drugs rather than only the American brand names, and find out how they’re prescribed and dispensed in Israel. That’s one thing you don’t want to figure out after the bottle is empty.
You may be eligible to convert your American driver’s license to an Israeli one, depending on your circumstances and the current rules. Check before moving rather than relying on what someone’s cousin did six years ago.
Once you have permission to drive, you will meet the Israeli horn. In America, the horn generally means “Look out!” In Israel it’s developed a much wider vocabulary: move, hello, move faster, the light is green, the light has been green for almost half a second, I disagree with what you’re doing, and possibly good morning. Eventually you’ll understand the context.
Israel also has extensive bus and rail service that may make public transportation a much bigger part of your life than it was in America. Think about that before choosing where to live. The gorgeous apartment that saves you money is considerably less gorgeous after you’ve spent two hours getting to work.
Israel isn’t cheap, and housing isn’t the only place you’ll notice it. Cars, groceries, restaurants, utilities, and imported products may cost more than you expect, while salaries in some professions can be lower than comparable American salaries.
Do the financial homework before moving. Understand what you’re likely to earn, what housing will cost where you actually want to live, how Israeli banking works, whether your profession needs Israeli licensing, and how your American retirement accounts, investments, or remote income will be treated. Americans living abroad can still have U.S. tax-filing obligations, so this is one area where paying someone who actually understands both systems may save you a very expensive education later.
New olim may qualify for tax benefits and other financial assistance. Find out what applies to you rather than building your budget around something you heard from someone on Facebook. The sal klita helps you get established. It is not Powerball.
Israeli supermarkets contain food. Lots of it. I feel this needs to be said because judging from some aliyah discussions, Americans occasionally prepare for Israel as though they’re moving to a research station in Antarctica.
You will find shampoo, peanut butter, deodorant, toothpaste, and coffee. Whether you will find your shampoo, your peanut butter, and the only deodorant you’ve apparently been capable of using since 1998 is another question. Imported American products can also have prices that make you wonder whether they flew to Israel in their own seat. First-class tickets.
Bring the things that really matter to you, especially enough personal products or medications to get through the initial transition where appropriate. Don’t fill twelve suitcases with CVS. You’re making aliyah, not surviving the Oregon Trail.
This may be the part Americans understand intellectually but don’t really understand until they’re there. Rosh Hashanah in America happens while everyone else is having a typical Tuesday. You take the day off, your children miss school, you go to synagogue, have dinner with family, and…Target is still open.
In Israel, Rosh Hashanah is happening to the entire country. The school calendar changes. Work changes. Supermarkets change. Traffic changes. People at the grocery store wish you Shana Tova because it’s Rosh Hashanah, not because they’ve figured out you’re Jewish.
Yom Kippur is something else again. Roads that normally carry traffic go quiet, businesses close, and children ride bicycles on streets that would ordinarily be full of cars. For an American Jew, I suspect this is one of the things no aliyah checklist can explain. For once, you’re not fitting the Jewish calendar into somebody else’s.
If you’re moving with children, there’s a pretty good chance they’ll become Israeli faster than you do. They’ll pick up Hebrew, understand slang, figure out the buses, know how school works, and one day you’ll be struggling to explain something to another adult when your child steps in and translates.
Try not to forget that you taught this person how to use a spoon.
There are real things parents need to research before moving, such as schools, Hebrew support, religious versus secular education, services your child may need, matriculation requirements for older students, and military service rules based on age and immigration status. Kids aren’t luggage. They’re making aliyah too, and their adjustment may look very different from yours.
Well, you are. But you’re also moving to Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Haifa, Ra’anana, Modi’in, Beit Shemesh, Be’er Sheva, a kibbutz, a moshav, or somewhere else that will determine what your actual Tuesday looks like.
Don’t pick a place because you spent four fantastic days there on vacation. Go grocery shopping there. Take the bus. Look at apartments you can actually afford. Check the commute, schools, synagogue if that’s important to you, what closes on Shabbat, and where the protected space is. Spend some time doing boring things.
Vacation Israel and where-the-hell-do-I-buy-a-plunger Israel are two very different experiences.
Probably, and that’s okay. You’ll miss people first, but you’ll also miss ridiculous things: your washing machine, Target, the cereal you like, your hairdresser, big closets, your favorite takeout place, and the ability to understand every conversation happening around you. You may miss…
