Thursday, January 08, 2026
Elder of Ziyon
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Israelis who have returned from their loosely-structured odysseys to India, Thailand, Brazil, Paris, New York, Cape Town, or myriad other international sites report that those myriad sites are infested with other Israelis.
Returnees who spent as little as two days and as much as seven months in such places as rural India, bucolic Vietnam, suave Copenhagen, and humid Rio de Janeiro noted how much Hebrew they heard while there.
"It's like I never left Ramat Gan," remarked Shir Elbaz, 22, who backpacked through Southeast Asia for four months after completing her service as a casualty-support social worker in the IDF. "I got to this green-as-you-can-imagine rice field not far from Saigon, just the picture of idyllic existence, and as I'm thanking the cart-driver who dropped me off, I hear another visitor offering a bite of a snack to his buddy, 'Yalla, rotze bis?'"
"It was the same thing in Phuket [Thailand]," she recalled. "My traveling companion and I were being really careful not to give anyone a pretext for anything, because you know how charged the topis of Israel can be almost anywhere, so we're communicating with each other only in English, and there's this group of guys hiking past in the other direction, chattering away in Hebrew without a care. Loud, too. Cringe."
Similar scenes played out for countless other young Israelis seeking solitude in the world's remotest corners, only to discover that solitude is apparently not on the menu when your fellow citizens are involved.
"It was surreal," said Eitan Cohen, 23, fresh off a six-month jaunt through South America. "I trekked three days into the Bolivian salt flats—literally the middle of nowhere, white as far as the eye can see, not a soul around—and there’s this group setting up camp, blasting Ofra Haza from a portable speaker. One guy spots my Teva sandals and yells, 'Achshli, motek! Where'd you serve?' I hadn't even opened my mouth."
Veterans of the post-army pilgrimage report that the phenomenon has only intensified in recent years, thanks to social media groups with helpful names like "Israelis in Goa—Who's Got Cheap MDMA?" and "Tel Avivians in Tulum—Shabbat Dinner?" These digital beacons ensure that no beach hut, jungle trek, or Ayurvedic retreat remains Israeli-free for long.
"I deliberately chose Svalbard," confessed Noa Levy, 21, who opted for the Arctic archipelago to escape the heat—and apparently her people. "Polar bears, midnight sun, total isolation. Perfect. Day two, I'm on a dog-sled tour, and the guide points out another sled team ahead. They're singing 'Hahayim Shelanu Tuttim' at the top of their lungs while passing around Bamba. I almost asked the huskies to turn around."
Travel agents specializing in Israeli youth report brisk business in "guaranteed Israeli-free" packages, once the exclusive province of the Arab League boycott. "We whisper them," admitted one agent on condition of anonymity. "Last time we mentioned a quiet village in Laos, it had a Chabad House within a week."
Psychologists attribute the inescapable Israeli swarm to a potent mix of wanderlust, herd mentality, and an unshakable conviction that wherever they go, the locals secretly crave hummus. "It's comforting," explained Dr. Yael Friedman. "After the army's intense camaraderie, they seek familiar chaos abroad. Also, they really like shouting in Hebrew at 2 a.m."
Back in Tel Aviv cafés, the returned travelers swap stories with wry grins, already planning their next escape. "Maybe Antarctica this time," muses Shir Elbaz. "I hear it's beautiful, empty, and cold enough that no one will want to grill there."
She paused. "Though someone will probably bring a mangal and a jembe drum anyway."
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"He's an Anti-Zionist Too!" cartoon book (December 2024) PROTOCOLS: Exposing Modern Antisemitism (February 2022) |
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