"You have nowhere to live? Leave us alone"
The Israeli influx into Greece, which accelerated after October 7, is no longer necessarily viewed favorably by some of the locals. Greece is still friendly to Israelis, certainly compared to other countries, but some are losing patience with us.
Kifisia neighborhood. Under Athenian skies, which zigzag between a sudden burst of rain and unbearable humidity, stood a boy. Dinosaur shirt, blue sandals, in his hand a pencil case with a name: Koren. It was his first day at the Greek kindergarten, after landing in the new country a few days earlier with mom Elian, dad Yariv, and little sister Mili. When he entered the kindergarten, Koren spotted ride-on cars and sprinted to the swing. "Kalimera," a well-groomed kindergarten teacher said in an embracing voice. "Not like in Israel, they stand at attention," dad Yariv whispered.
That was in September 2022. Four years have passed since then. Koren is already seven years old. He reads and speaks Greek, not remembering the previous life in that country—well, what was it called? And when they arrive in Israel once a year to visit grandma and grandpa, and he encounters war, he asks quite quickly when they are returning. "That's it, Greece is his home," mom Elian says, laughing.
On the eve of the previous elections, photographer Abigail Uzi and I went on a journey between cities, villages, and distant islands. We set out to find Israelis who chose a land of wild beaches, leaving behind a homeland with a high cost of living, murky politics, and a disaster threatening from beyond the fence. Today, says Elian, she cannot go down without meeting three "locally produced" ones. Dozens of reserve-duty Israelis live in the neighborhood, and there is even an Israeli supermarket with Bamba.
"Not returning home without a home in Greece"
The Israeli influx into Greece, which accelerated after October 7, is no longer necessarily viewed favorably by some of the locals. A real estate billboard at Athens airport caused much anger among those who blame Israelis for the rise in real estate prices. Yaki Rotem, 75, who lives in the village of Trouvo, told me about a response he received when he posted online that he was looking for a house for a friend: "What, you have nowhere to live? Leave us alone." "It wasn't pleasant," he describes, "but I understand it's not personal against me."
In Greece, there are no dramas. The Greeks like every day to be similar to the previous one, while we, the Israelis, have become addicted to dramas. Friends like to tell Elian that they "escaped in time"—before October 2023. But this statement is said with a tone of half-anger. The look in their eyes changes with every passing year, as if to say: "What do you understand about your life? Do you even understand what we went through here in Israel?"
The look in our country's eyes has also changed. Soon there will be elections again, and vibes of "don't come" are blowing from Israel. "Don't interfere." "Whoever does not bear the burden of life here should not interfere," shouted one of the articles. "What does it mean not paying the price? We are Israelis and Jews," says Ayelet, who lives in Athens. "You don't disconnect. You are connected to Israel, and you are anxious for its existence because things are being managed by amateurs." At least 80 percent of the Israelis she knows in Greece intend to arrive to vote. Elian will not be one of them: "We feel that they don't want us to arrive. Politics has taken over everything."
