The Promised Land

And while their countrymen are generally big travellers, India’s cheap prices, plentiful drugs and traditional allure for foreigners has made it a primary destination for Israelis looking for relief from the tensions in their country.

They have escalated the cliché of a disenchanted soul in search of enlightenment to a disillusioned country seeking relaxation, or just something very different from home. This mass exodus from the holy land, if a temporary one, has become a national institution. According to a recent report in Israeli newspaper Haaretz, 30,000 Israeli backpackers come to India annually, this from a country of less than 6 million. And very often what they find is more Israelis.

Israel’s embassy in New Delhi, while declining to provide any statistical information, rebutted the illegal drug angle. According to Rachel Yosefov, a counsellor, “The allegation that many (travellers) come to use illegal drugs is profoundly wrong.”

It’s true that many Israelis come to India for sightseeing or for any other of the innumerable tourist draws. But with an increase in their numbers, certain trends have emerged. These include full moon parties, touring the country on Enfield motorcycles and sleeping and eating at places where they are likely to find familiar food, compatriots and charas, which, they say, virtually all of them smoke (many claimed not to use drugs like LSD and ecstasy).

The all-night bash made Diu a stop on the annual Israeli migration from northern destinations like Manali and Dharamshala to the beaches of Goa.

In Paharganj, Delhi’s backpacker centre, many shops and restaurants advertise in Hebrew, some shopkeepers even speak the language, greeting tourists with reflexive shaloms. Israeli tourist Lilach Tali, 21, shopping for leather goods in Paharganj, had this to say: “After the mess in Israel we come here for a little quiet.”

Echoing the sentiments of many backpackers she called it a “break from life”. “At home we have families, we have people we know. Here you can do whatever you want,” she added. The standard plan is that after completing mandatory army service, Israelis save money and then leave for India and other popular destinations.

But as the situation back home grows increasingly hopeless and the economy suffers, older Israelis are coming to India, and it’s just not for a last hurrah before university and the burdens of adulthood. Avishay Asoor, 26, a backpacker, and one of the party-goers in Diu, said he came here after working for several years, because trying to get ahead in Israel was like “grinding water”.

An itinerant construction worker, Sharon, 33, first came pleasure-seeking to India in 1996 when he heard Israelis were into drug-induced psychotic episodes in Goa. He had fun and said he had come back “three or four times”. He estimated his current trip would last a year “but who knows what will happen”. He was sitting at a Delhi guest house that caters to Israelis, wearing light cloth pants, reflector sunglasses and no shirt.

Like many Israelis, for him any mystic allure India has comes more from an overall mood of relaxation than from any spiritual interest. “I don’t go to ashrams, it’s against my religion,” he said. Coming to India can even increase Jewish sentiment. Chabad, a Jewish movement interested in rekindling religion in Jews, has several offices in backpacker hot spots.

One recent afternoon, David, a tattooed Israeli with a shaved head and desert camouflage shorts, stopped by the Delhi centre to don tefillin, leather ribbons placed on the head and wrapped around the arm daily, for saying prayers. It is not something he does at home. “Outside Israel you feel more pride in being Jewish,” he explained.

But several backpackers have criticised Chabad for taking advantage of those who had taken too many drugs. Irit, a woman who sometimes helps out around the organisation’s Delhi office, defended its tactics. “Sometimes the only way to get them back to earth is to get them to read books, to find something out about themselves. We don’t exploit people,” she said.

Indeed, many backpackers say they came to India to learn about themselves, though they can be vague what that actually means. Sharon’s friend Eli, 42, said he’ll be going back “when I finish my journey, even if it takes five years it’s OK”.

He continued: “When you go to Israel you have headaches all the time.” India, he said, is a place where he can “learn about myself.” But even for those more committed to returning to Israel, the country is not promising either as a peaceful or economically stable place to live.

“Look at me,” said Gilad, a traveller and former combat soldier who was sitting at The Third Eye, a cafe in Pushkar. “I’m 23. I don’t have a diploma. I don’t have an education. I don’t have a job. I don’t have money.” Despite Gilad’s pride in his country, it seems to him incapable of giving him the life he wants. The alternative is to “go and relax, for eight months, a year, whatever it takes”.

That India has terrorism and economic problems of its own does not register. Israelis are used to it. “Let them deal with their problems and I’ll deal with mine,” Gilad said, echoing the sentiments of many backpackers.

The critical mass has made it easy for Israelis only to associate with each other. When they come, they meet other Israelis in backpacker ghettos. Though many say they want to get off the typical Israeli route, they admit it is easy to wander down the well-beaten path. “Everything’s in Hebrew,” said Amit Sigler, 21.

To many, India is the opposite of Israel and that’s enough, especially since it now has the comforts of home. Beyond service employees and touts, there is no need to speak to Indians. And opinion of Indians varies from the perception that they are only interested in foreigners’ money to admiring them, like Sigler, for their chutzpah—a Yiddish word for exuberant nerviness—that resembles the Israelis’ own.

Meanwhile, Israelis have acquired, among many backpackers, a reputation for cliquishness. Sarah Witt, a backpacker from British Columbia, said that while she tried not to form an opinion of them, they “dominate the travel culture of India”.

Ablu, owner of The Third Eye, said he sometimes has to discipline Israelis, “but this is only because they’re young and coming out of the army”. He said that apparently other proprietors in Pushkar are less forgiving and have banned Israelis from their places. One man who called himself Oz, and who said he came to India for drugs and dancing,was more blasé. “They don’t like me and I don’t care. I don’t hate anybody,” he said.

But despite their time here, it is almost impossible to escape the realities of home. A concern for many is in the age of global terrorism those realities will follow them. Eron, a backpacker in Delhi, said, “The Palestinians and Osama are going to read this,” and thinking there are Israelis in India “they’ll want to bomb it.”

(Some backpackers did not provide their last names)