It got me thinking: When does a foreign place feel more comfortable than your birthplace?
That first year, I missed buying blueberries every week like I did back home, and still had to use a calculator when the pediatrician asked for my baby’s weight in kilos. And I remember the day Amazon started shipping to Israel. I couldn’t contain my excitement when I saw that box in my living room with Amazon Prime stamped on the side.
But by our third year in Israel, I stopped asking my in-laws to bring things from America when they came to visit, either finding substitutes or making do without. It was getting too exhausting, and besides — you really could get everything in Israel, even if you had to pay a bit more or travel on a bus to get it.
It helped when my friend Ariella shared her philosophy: If we lived in the States, sure, we’d have Target, and Walmart and Amazon 24/7 without having to strategically choose items that met the $49–75 sweet spot. Vanilla extract would be a dollar, and we could return Zappos shoes months later without begging for a refund. But then we’d be living in America — not Israel.
It was a lightbulb moment.
When I finally stopped comparing shekels to dollars, I realized I was getting used to living there — and loving it.
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