Laurence of Beer Sheva

Yesterday I went to Beer Sheva for the first time. Actually, it was my first time in the Negev since a year ago, so it was a bit like seeing the desert for the first time ever. Why was I in Beer Sheva? Because it has cheap apartments. You may ask, Where is Beer Sheva in relation to Haifa, my original dream city? The answer: really fucking far.

As you can imagine, when I was on the bus to Beer Sheva I felt really disappointed that I was being forced to move to the middle of nowhere because of money concerns that I’ll face in the army. I had never been to Beer Sheva, and I imagined it was like some of the small desert towns you see in California on the road to Las Vegas. You know, like the town that brags about having “The World’s Tallest Thermometer,” which is not actually a thermometer but in fact a large sign in the shape of a thermometer that simply lights up as if it’s a real thermometer but is actually just connected to a much, much smaller real thermometer that tells it what temperature to display in lights. Trust me, I’ve visited it.

Sure, these towns have this kind of cowboy, frontier romanticism about them that makes me really enjoy spending vacations there…but living there? My cousins live in one of these towns, and I love visiting. I love standing in their enormous backyard (compared to my family’s Los Angeles backyard that is the size of a small closet) and looking out at the mountains and the vast stretch of empty desert surrounding their small town, and being able to imagine clearly what America looked like before anyone ever got there. But at the end of the day, I’m happy to return home to LA and have a GAP or Best Buy or whatever within walking distance.

Holy Shit though. Beer Sheva. It was fucking amazing. It is a city with all modern conveniences (the movie theater in the enormous, air-conditioned mall was playing Wolverine), and yet you still have the joy of feeling that you’re an adventuring pioneer on some kind of frontier outpost. There were many parts of the city, even parts in the center, where I could peek at a crack between two high-rise apartment buildings and see a vast stretch of empty desert not too far beyond the edges of the city. “Holy shit,” I thought to myself, “I’m on the edge of the fucking world!!!” And I felt like a total badass.

Most of the people walking down the street were dressed like normal Israelis (so basically they looked ridiculous…), and not a Haredi penguin in sight! And every time I started to feel like this town was a little too bland and normal for me, an Arab woman would walk by in a flowing black bed sheet with her mouth covered with a small black piece of fabric---and Oh G-d I’m in the Middle East! I’m somewhere exotic! I’m in a foreign, exotic desert land with bizarre people and even Arabs—not in some tourist trap city teeming with American tourists and American immigrants, a city that feels vaguely like an old, dirty, and crumbling Disneyland! No, bitches, I will not be just another American in Jerusalem—I’m going to be Laurence of friggin Arabia in Beer Sheva!

Also wonderful about Beer Sheva? Bus fare is 2 shekels less than in Jerusalem. It doesn’t sound significant, but when you are traveling every day it does add up. WORD!

Anyway, the apartment: it’s 100 shekels less than the apartment I liked in Haifa, but nicer. The room itself isn’t too much to talk about (but I wouldn’t have to buy a bed like I would in Haifa), but there is an enormous living room (couches, tables, A TV!!!, and a large kitchen and nice dining room table), and—get this—a fucking garden. A private garden for the apartment, shared with no one but the roommates. A garden that is bigger than the entire apartment I am now living in.

Anyway, even if this apartment in particular doesn’t work out, I’m actually now quite excited about the possibility of moving to Beer Sheva.

Best thing about it? About 10 minutes before arriving, I looked out the bus window and saw a large group of camels just kind of chilling in this sandy field by the side of the road—no tourists riding on them, no Bedouins leading them. Just camels hanging out on the side of the road. I think that’s when I fell in love with Beer Sheva.