Jerusalem, If I Forget You

So we're closing in on almost 2 weeks in the strange/home land. In these past ten days I have begun to get my apartment painted, bought dishes, a bed, a sofa set (3 and 2 seaters), been promised a dining room table, chairs, and a television, registered for classes, received my official acceptance from the university (clearly this is stream-of-consciousness and not chronological), bought 7 new hip hop cds, and seen shotey hanevua live. I still have not gotten health insurance, a roommate, or a job, and most embarassingly, I still haven't eaten schwarma. I could really go for it now, but some jackass Jews had to murder Gedalya, so schwarma will have to wait.
Some things are coming quickly. My vonage should be ready tomorrow, so start calling me then. My apartment could be ready as early (which is still late) as Thursday, so I can start living a more normal life. I may even (shas ve chelila- Audrey and David, are you there somewhere?) spend this coming Shabbat in the Tel Aviv area, instead of Jerusalem.
Which brings me to the title of this post. Last year, you may remember (if I were a half-way decent blogger, I'd link to the post, but I'm not) that I claimed to like Tel Aviv more than Jerusalem. When push comes to shove, I think that I might, at least from Saturday night to Friday afternoon. For now, though, being outside of Jerusalem is really difficult. For starters, I have about 2 friends here. And to make things worse, I'm not even in Tel Aviv yet, I'm staying in Herzlia. As wonderful as my family as (and they really are wonderful people), I don't really have any opportunities to meet people out here. So day in, day out, I get up, and either lounge around the house for the day, watching way too much television, or get up early, go to either South Tel Aviv or the University area, and try to take care of errands. This leads to a lot of spending money, a lot of looking at things I can't afford, and not really the best time in the world. As no part of Tel Aviv feels like home yet, I find myself constantly longing for Jerusalem, that town I so desperately fled so often last year. Jerusalem is where my barber is, where my pizza place is, where the ice cream place that killed my dreams is (see the obit in April), where pretty much all of my friends are.
So this all begs the question, why aren't I in Jerusalem? I think my answer came from Rabbi Diamond, asst director at the Conservative Yeshiva (or ConYesh or YeshCon or however it was that one very attractive Pardes student put it). I could stay in Jerusalem forever, and I would probably feel at home come the chagim, and each year, I would welcome in new friends in September/October, and then say goodbye to a whole bunch in April/May. And that might be a lot of fun. But I am not interested in having good friends all of the world, while constantly needing to make new ones right where I am. So maybe this year I'll lose out on having a close hevra like I had last year (who thankfully will be returning in a few short years at Machon Schechter). But instead, slowly but surely, I may actually make some Israeli friends, (or at least Americans who are here to stay), and I won't have to start over year after year. And then I won't have to write any sappy/depressing/moapy blog posts come next September.