I’m walking down the street in Tel Aviv, dressed to the nines in khakis and a white cotton T-shirt. Aside from my watch, I could’ve purchased my entire wardrobe for a C-note.
And I’m feeling right at home. I blend right in with my environment. I feel completely indigenous. Like I’ve been walking these streets my whole life. Like I’ve been born to the
beat and pulse of the big city- disgusting though I know it is.

Often, when in my Yeshivishe garb, strolling down King George, Yaffo, or a street in Manhattan, I feel out of place. Similar to the way a chayal must feel in Zichron Moshe. Incongruous.
Black hats, pants, and a white shirt may make me look like a penguin, but it doesn’t do too much to help me blend in with the immodestly dressed pedestrians of secular Jerusalem.
And I’m sorry to say that in this regard, our Holy City is far too close to Manhattan or Tel Aviv.

And that is the way it should be. Feeling out of place, I mean. A yeshiva bochur shouldn’t feel at home in the streets. So why do I feel so comfortable now?
Shouldn’t I be feeling some disconnect, no- some nervousness- with these secular surroundings? Shouldn’t I be racing to get of here?

But I continue my slow walk down the street, enjoying the surroundings. Admiring the buildings. The people. The cars.
And I realize, that if only once in a while, I need some secular “culture”. Like a druggie’s fix, it is something I’ve come to crave.
No doubt, if I were to ask a Rabbi type, he’d tell me that I’m fooling myself. Fooling myself into thinking that I need it, when in reality,
it’s precisely what I don’t need- what I need to get away from.

But there’s the funny thing about us. Sometimes we don’t ask. And we choose to, as Nike so aptly puts it, “Just Do It”.
We, in the above context, covers the entire gamut of yeshiva guys; Briskers, Mir guys, and Bais/Medrash types. We all do things without asking,
knowing the answer we’d get would be a NO.

So I keep walking. As always, feeling guilty about something. I need to learn how to walk without shame.

Or maybe I just need to stop walking.

Side note- I wasn’t all too impressed with the menu’s English; take a look at this photo and see if you agree with me. Note- if you catch less than three, you need some help yourself.

Place is located in the Prima Hotel, on the Yarkon (near the Sheraton).
It was formerly the Prime Grill. You can find more details on this website, although in classic Israeli style they’ve neglected to update it with info on the Prime Grill change to Citron.

Kashrus is TA Mehadrin. I do NOT take responsibility or achrayus on its kashrus. Do your own due diligence.

And as they say here, B’Taovon.

105 Hayarkon Street
Tel Aviv 63432
Tel: +972-3-527-5660