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TEL AVIV – As he read the news of an imminent attack via Iran and its proxies, Adi Tamir faced a series of dilemmas: should he continue his weekend vacation on the banks of the Jordan River? Living in a city near Israel’s northern coast, deep within Hezbollah’s rocket range, did she leave his house?
She opted for a compromise: she went on vacation to the border between Israel and Jordan, but she didn’t stay locked up at home either.
“I’m going to play with fate right now,” he said of his vacation plans.
“But I’m going out,” he added. “I don’t need to end my life for a “what if. ” We live in a shitty situation, but the most productive thing we can do is realize that we are not in that situation and simply accept it.
For months, Israelis across the country have been faced with similar choices, as daily life continues amid a multi-pronged clash that spills over into population centers and leaves once-popular recreational sites deserted. Israelis have become accustomed to constant cognitive dissonance, surrounded by reminders of the war and everyone who has been killed or taken hostage, while commuting to work, sending their children to school, and occasionally fainting to eat or play despite the risks. That tension has only grown as Israel prepares for an Iranian war. Attack after an attack on a Hamas leader in Tehran.
“It’s like living in two realities at the same time here,” Karin Hershkovitz, an Israeli influencer who lives in the United States but is visiting family in Israel this summer, posted on Instagram last week. “Working, having kids, doing the routine, partying and living life, all while constantly dealing with pain, genuine threats and uncertainty. »
The contrast is striking. Hours after a drone from Yemen exploded just blocks from Tel Aviv beach last month, killing a local worker, the coast was packed with locals enjoying a weekend in the sun.
An organization of families met for a weekly surf lesson (only one canceled as a result of the strike) and the movement of cars, bicycles, scooters and pedestrians continued as normal. A passerby surrounded by bustling cafes and department stores would be forgiven for not knowing that this busy domain was the scene of a foreign terrorist attack that morning.
“I have the idea of coming for a second, but, to be honest, I’m much more worried about jellyfish,” Ofer Zimri said with a laugh.
The crowded beach indicated that others shared Zimri’s sentiment. Near the water, a couple sitting on the sand and drinking beer.
“Life here moves at such a crazy speed that we realize it. One day there is an attack and the next day everything is the same,” said Amit Mizrahi.
But like many Israelis, his life changed after Oct. 7. He received a permit for a gun, then for the gun itself, and remains vigilant in public places, scanning exits and tracking any suspicious activity.
“Last week there was a terrorist attack near my home in Rishon Lezion,” he said, referring to a vehicle attack in which one soldier was killed and three others were wounded. Array “But no matter what, I feel safe. Because it’s our home, you know?
For Israelis, the losses of October 7 and the war were up close and personal. A guy named Ziv had a friend from his formative years who he killed at the Nova music festival and another friend who lost both legs fighting in Gaza. Ziv said he is looking forward to being called back to the army.
Meanwhile, Ziv was skateboarding in a nearby park. During a break between kickflips, he spoke lyrically about life in the shadow of war.
“Life is the cure for the opposite of life, which is loss,” he said. “My life is on pause, but I need to get back into the routine as much as possible. I go to the psychologist, I go to skateboarding. The movement is passable, it reduces pain and stress.
Some Israelis see the departure as a show of defiance. At a recent concert headlined by Jewish-American rapper Kosha Dillz, Michelle Long said she felt a duty to give in to depression or, as she called it, “drop the ball. “
“We all lead a double life. You see something bad has happened, your core beats strongly, and then you put the phone back in your pocket and move on,” he said.
“Well, you can continue as usual,” he continued. Other times you’re absolutely crazy. AndArray no longer even know what affects our behavior.
Noah Shufutinsky, one of the first bands of the night to play his rap called Westside Gravy, said his music has changed particularly since Oct. 7.
“The new general means that I am not going to perform normal songs that I perform at another time. I’m not going to make music for the sake of it,” Shufutinsky said. “For me, a lot of things are talking about the upheavals that Israelis are going through and trying to reflect a little bit of the society that I’m a part of now, through music. “
For Kim Feldman, going to a rap concert or any other occasion that requires tickets and pre-planning has become too overwhelming since Oct. 7. Instead, she said she enjoys quieter evenings with friends, such as the screening of “The Princess Bride. “” in a movie theater. Local Park, which is part of a free weekly outdoor film series.
“I can’t plan a party. I can plan to sit in the park,” Feldman said. “It’s great to go through a very comfortable and social place, but without going out of your way. It is a comfortable socialization, with less tension and fewer expectations.
Pointing around, he says, “Just look at the number of small children and dogs here. “
Many Israelis say the public atmosphere is not the same as it was in the first two months of the war, when the October 7 surprise was still raw. “Everything seemed tainted and strange,” Feldman said.
“What scared me was how few young people were on the streets and how many of them were injured,” Feldman said of the thousands of people who showed up for military service. “It’s been nine months, and in a way, the longer it lasts, the harder it becomes. You’re not looking to be disrespectful, but you’re looking to find a balance that allows you to continue living your best life.
During a stand-up show, popular comedian Udi Kagan interrupted the cry of a newborn baby. He asked the baby’s mother how she could have planned to attend the party when ticket prices sold out months in advance. The woman replied that she had received the ticket with the price from a reserve soldier called to Gaza at the last minute.
“It just reflects the general mood of the country,” said audience member Idan Cohen, who recalled the exchange. “You used to take things for granted, but now you can’t. From the smallest thing, like ending up going to see the stand-up comedy you bought tickets for. . . to the biggest show, whether you’re safe in bed at night.
Cohen added: “But life goes on, especially for children. During the holidays, it’s the hardest part. “
Israelis would arguably have been the quickest to change their vacation plans. Anat Shihor-Aronson, a spokeswoman for the Ministry of Tourism, cited two main reasons for this trend: many airlines have canceled flights due to the war and many Israelis are reluctant to travel abroad, a sentiment fueled by rising anti-Semitism. abroad and through a strong preference to be close to loved ones.
“If God doesn’t allow something to happen, they’ll do it in Israel so they can be close to home,” Shihor-Aronson said.
As a result, hotels in Israel operate between 90 and 100% of their capacity, although they only receive between 10 and 20% of the same number of foreign tourists that they usually receive during the summer months. Occupancy rates are also higher because around 24,000 evacuees, mostly from Israel’s besieged northern region, are currently living in hotels.
Shihor-Aronson expressed optimism about the long-term foreign tourism and noted stable growth in its numbers, even in times of war. Although most of those arriving are Jewish tourists and evangelical Christians, whom he described as the “loyal market,” more teams of volunteers and solidarity have arrived, at least until most airlines canceled flights this week in reaction to the Iranian threat.
Some Israelis, like Tamir, are canceling their ads altogether. Cohen canceled an annual visit to a camp in the north because of frequent Hezbollah attacks in the region.
“There are so many places we can’t go,” Cohen said. “It’s too dangerous. “
And while life has returned to normal in many tactics in Israeli cities, one guest said this change also reflects a sad reality.
“The beach volleyball courts are full. Life goes on,” Jonathan Jaffe, rabbi of New York, wrote on Facebook for the third time since the start of the war, after the Tel Aviv attack. “You can see this as an uplifting story of resilience shown through a network that refuses to give in to terror, or as the least positive story of a region that is all too used to mornings like this. »
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