I expected very high security, flying into Israel, and while I’m sure there is plenty, it’s not in your face. Departing Tampa, I was able to check my bags straight through to Tel Aviv, which was nice, but surprised me. At JFK, there was an extra level of security inside the gate; after the regular security, the flight to Tel Aviv went through its own extra check, pretty much like the other one but less crowded. Arriving in Tel Aviv, there were walls and a gate to pass through before we left the airport, but baggage claim was pretty normal–no one even asked to see my baggage claim tickets. The porter was helpful and friendly, and the taxi dispatcher quoted me the fare to Jerusalem — 250 shekels, about $75 — which was confirmed by my driver. There was also a share-a-ride service I could have taken for quite a bit less. Walking around my neighborhood of Bakah felt entirely safe at night, and the first military presence I saw was on the highway to Tel Aviv today, when we came close to Ramallah. The friend who was driving pointed out high towers — not unattractive — like landbound lighthouses, that are used for intelligence-gathering with a view of the West Bank and to the Jordan River. Driving back into Jerusalem after a day in Herzliya, my friend pointed out a school at an intersection. It was the school, he said, that had been in the news recently when a man walked in and opened fire. Such is our life here, he said. It feels so normal here. It feels like home. People are perhaps a bit more realistic but no more afraid than New Yorkers. But I think there’s also a certain reality check for Americans: The idea of living in a country where your neighbors resented your existence was alien, but we now now that distance alone doesn’t keep us safe–and that there are people who resent our existence, too. Such is life.