Many dare to dream; some turn their dreams into reality. The next stop in my aliyah exploration leads me out of Yerushalayim to spend a Shabbos with the Tulkoff family. When the Tulkoffs made aliyah in July 2001, they moved to the predominantly Israeli city of Rechovot, an interesting choice for an English-speaking family. My curiosity is piqued, and I hope to get a taste this Shabbos of what the Rechovot community has to offer and to learn from the aliyah experience of this Baltimore family.

The Tulkoffs welcome me to their lovely home with its delightful garden on a quiet side street. Private homes are common in the Tulkoffs’ neighborhood, alongside the ubiquitous Israeli apartment buildings. Many parks and tree-lined streets give the city a suburban feel. One of the first things I notice about Rechovot is that, unlike other communities I’ve visited, the religious people live alongside the secular ones. A wide variety of shuls are situated within the radius of a few blocks. I take advantage, and on Shabbos I daven in the dati leumi shul, go to the tisch in the huge Kretchnif shul, and stop in at both the yeshiva minyan and the Sefardi shul.

Almost everyone knows someone in Har Nof. This suburb of Yerushalayim, populated by many American families, was built on a terraced hillside in the early 1980s. I leave my own home in the neighborhood on this bright, quiet morning and walk only a few buildings down to meet the Perkals, former residents of Baltimore. On the way, I gaze at the brilliant blue sky and absorb the magnificent panorama of the Jerusalem forest sloping down to a few lone fields in the valley far below. It must be this beautiful view that gave Har Nof its name, which translates to “scenic mountain.”

When Rabbi Moshe and Mrs. Barbara Perkal made aliyah in 1993, their move was unusual – not only because few people made aliyah then but also because all their children, including the married ones, moved along with them. And every one of them has continued to live here! For years, Rabbi Perkal dreamed of making aliyah but was unable to do so until he felt financially ready. When he finally was, the Perkals held a family meeting to explain their move. One son-in-law announced that he was interested in moving along with them, and the other son-in-law consulted his Rebbe and subsequently decided to make the move as well. And so the entire Perkal family – parents, two married, and six unmarried children – traveled together to make a new life in Eretz Yisrael, joining another two married children who were already living here.

As I exit the bus, I notice the prominent white Gesher Hameitarim, Jerusalem’s Chords Bridge looming ahead. The bridge’s structure was designed to resemble a harp, its inspiration taken from the pasuk in Tehilim, “Praise Him with harp and lyre.” A light rail train passes swiftly across the bridge and over Sderot Herzl toward the hustle-and-bustle of the central bus station at the City’s entrance. I am greeted at the station by Baltimoreans Rabbi Shimon and Miriam Apisdorf. They lead me along a narrow path, the back route to their cozy apartment on a quiet, tree-lined street of Kiryat Moshe.

One of a few garden neighborhoods established in the 1920s, Kiryat Moshe’s residents today are mainly Israeli with a small number of American and French families. It has a large dati leumi community, a small chareidi community, and a “secular” population as well – although the Apisdorfs will tell you that what is called secular in Israel has a totally different meaning than it does in the States.

A magnet for spiritual seekers and tourists from all walks of life, Yerushalayim’s Old City is filled with visitors exploring ancient ruins, shopping for souvenirs, and meandering along its alleyways. I, too, stride the age-polished cobblestone paths on this quiet winter morning, in awe of this Golden City of Old, the heartbeat of our Nation, the Holy City that manifests majesty and glory.  I contemplate, as well, the contrast between this morning’s peaceful quiet and the ancient history of contention and bloodshed that these very streets have witnessed. Focusing on my destination, I wonder about the Jewish Quarter’s few thousand Jewish inhabitants. What’s it like to spend one’s days so close to the makom hamikdash?  To have the ability to walk down to the Kotel in a matter of minutes? To encounter strangers from all over the world mere steps from one’s doorway? 

A land of dreams, yearnings, hopes, and aspirations. I ask myself and wonder, is it really true? Am I really fulfilling my dream? While sitting on the plane, I am experiencing the culmination of the myriad details of the last few months being actualized. For those who know me well, it came as no big surprise when I announced that I was packing up and moving to Eretz Yisrael – because, for me, the question was never “if” but “when.” Raised by my parents, who instilled in me the desire to live in the Holy Land, my love for Eretz Yisrael only increased the more I traveled there during summer and winter breaks. And for those that don’t know me well and ask why I’m moving, especially as a young single woman, my response is simple, “Eretz Yisrael is home.” It’s not more complicated than that. Where else can you feel so acutely the atmosphere of kedusha (holiness), a sense of Jewish pride, and passion towards the study and practice of our eternal Torah?