
I love stories, and life has given me plenty to tell. It has long been my plan to put them down on paper. My path has taken me through 15 years of entrepreneurship, travelling, and finally, immigrating. I found myself again in a new place as an employed software engineer, and now, five years onwards, I am transitioning back to independence.

I was born in soviet Moscow and went to school in a new, unknown country that had yet to define itself. I belong to the single, non-indoctrinated generation of Russians around: we were taught that anything was possible and that our only limits were those we set for ourselves. This played some bad jokes on me: Once my childhood was over, the country decided to make another turn, this time back to authoritarianism, and together with its people, happily embraced the old and familiar soviet dogmas.

So, a year after graduating high school, I jumped on the website development bandwagon that has carried me for the last 20 years.

My experience was not purely virtual: my severe first \[ad]venture was an e-commerce website that sold shoes and accessories (my friend brought the idea, not a passion for shoes!). The next one was even more grounded: a chain of gadget repair stores. The third I would call 'Chinese adventures', as I was involved in trading activities for many small-scale entrepreneurs like me in China. These adventures, spanning from 2000 to 2014, were thrilling but ended abruptly as Russia took a turn I couldn't follow.

That time, my country decided to be, once again, the bad guy and no one asked me if I wanted to participate, so I quit.

The word 'quit' is nice and short! Applying it to reality was a grilling experience. It took me several attempts and struggles to acquire a new true home: Israel. Most of my current stories are related to this land and its people.

I'm practical, so I write about entrepreneurship, technology, business, and ideas in general. I have never been short of ideas, and I believe in the power of sharing them to make the ideas a part of reality, to let them sprout and witness the fruits.

To set the record straight, I am a Christian, so my viewpoint is not so common in Israel or the world of tech. This lens offers a distinctive angle to my experiences and reflections.


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Immigrant, Enterpreneur, Husband, Father and Son

Rodion Kuprin


As you can guess from the title, it was not a big success. As I later deducted, we fell into all the traps that await any freshly made Ole. We came to Israel bearing a heavy load of preconceptions and false expectations. Now, after eight years and after numerous families of other new immigrants we witnessed and guided here, it's apparent that we were bound to fail:

- No plans of getting a job
- Poor choice of the community
- Poor understanding of Israeli geography and transit.
- No solid plan for the future
- Immigrating with a toddler

Despite everything stated, the sun shone, and the sea welcomed us with its breeze. We had a few weeks before the real winter. We signed a lease on a relatively small but lovely apartment on the shore overlooking fields filled with rubble, a construction site and some parts of the sea line. I signed up for an evening Ulpan (Hebrew language course), and we walked every day around the city enjoying the weather and December sun and thinking about what to do next.

The real problem was that we could not find anyone to befriend despite our efforts. Many Russian or English-speaking families lived there, but the environment around us was not open: looking back at it, it is the main reason we moved back to Moscow. Knowing how open and welcoming the Israeli society is, I am still determining if it was Ashkelon or our initial snobbism to blame.

Despite our miserable social advancements in Ashkelon, we both were able to see the beauty of the Israeli people, its customs and the Israeli way of life. To my regret, our first attempt was not easy for my wife: she was practically locked in the neighbourhood we resided in, and it was not particularly funny despite the presence of the sea and a long sandy beach. I need to mention that none of us bore a driver's license, as we never lived anywhere where a car was a must. Once in a while, I sneaked out to meet new people on business or visit a church in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, so I saw some of the country while her exposure to our new place was minimal.

Most of the people we met in Ashkelon in 2015 belonged to the Russian-speaking immigrant bubble: a hardworking community without much time for reflection and empathy. My Ulpan acquaintances included a few families from Russia and Ukraine in their senior years, a few immigrants from France, one lady from Iraq and some Russian-speaking immigrants of our age.

### Russian-speaking immigrants' integration track

I want to describe their life in particular: coming to Israel from all around the Russian-speaking world without any Hebrew or English, having to reinvent themselves in the new place in the foreign culture is not easy, so most of those who happen to immigrate in their 30s and 40s are bound to stay within a Russian-speaking bubble for their lives. There's not much career choice available. The Four Horsemen of your personal career Apocalypse as a middle-aged Russian-speaking immigrant not blessed with some IT knowledge or command of English bears the following names:

- ניקיון - nikayon: cleaning. It's a hard physical labour reserved mainly for females. The payment is decent and starts at around 8000 shekels monthly. Usually, there's no chance of learning Hebrew and being exposed to some better opportunities in the future. So go clean and earn money until you find something better, and finding it will be more challenging each year you spend with the mop.
- מטפלת - metapelet: caregiver. Another type of (primarily female) physical labour that is less intense, with somewhat lower income. The salary is minimal most of the time, around 6000 shekels. It can provide a chance to acquire the language, as your boss is typically someone with more life stories than a library but not as much time left to share them, so no career ladder is available.
- מוכר - mokher: salesperson (in a 'Russian' grocery store). The best unisex type of labour for a recent immigrant. It includes possible career advancements and other perks like unlimited snacking. Every town has several so-called 'Russian stores' where you can get non-kosher food and familiar cheap booze. Russian stores are popular among Hebrews and all sorts of foreigners, so your language skills will advance.
- Construction or a factory worker. It is hard labour, long hours, money that can feed the family (8000 - 12000 shekels), some stern but steady career ladder, and the chance of learning the language.

It is a simplification, of course. There are other options, like guarding a parking lot or working in some municipal service, but it's a rule of thumb that it would be hard-earned money for not-very-creative and fun labour. There's one good job set that does not share any specific field or profession but is marked in the job description as 'you can study'. That means that while sitting at your guarding booth or a cleaning post in some office, you can squeeze in some time for yourself and advance in another more promising field.

We have met many families with kids our age who could get out of this hamster wheel. Still, I observe that it always requires some external help or particularly fortunate circumstances.

### Decision to leave

Back to my story: Five months later, I secured an ample web development opportunity in Moscow that could be the start of some new business and feed us on the way. At the same time, I got to know a couple of servicemen in Jerusalem who were running a repair store like mine, and I was trying to organise the import of spare parts from China as I did for my business in Moscow. I decided to use my chance and move to Jerusalem to work with them and get out of the town we started to despise.

The plan was to return to Moscow for a few months, secure my project, return to Israel, and settle in Jerusalem.

The first part of the plan went peaches, as the project began on time. I started to be more involved with web development, and my 15 years of freelancing finally led to me starting a small software company with eight employees.

The second part needed to catch up: we could finalise the contract terms with the suppliers only half a year later, with some 5-month delay. It became apparent that I couldn't sacrifice the development project already in production and bore fruit with some prospects with an uncertain payoff, so we decided to prolong our stay in Moscow.

Being back there, my wife was happy, as finally, she was able to rest and meet our friends; our parents were glad to see their grandson, and I was pretty frustrated with all of this: how can I stir my family in a way that it produces so much turmoil and separation?

The political situation in Russia showed no positive progress; I felt more and more that I did not understand and did not feel the rhythm of this new life in my hometown. This pushed me forward: I wanted to be back and focused on building a foundation for our life in Israel.


In 'Our first attempt,' discover the challenges and realizations of a family's initial foray into life in Israel, exploring their encounter with cultural barriers and the complexities of starting anew in Ashkelon

Part 4: Our first attempt


I remember many irrelevant details of that day. Early in the morning, we and our parents went to one of the Moscow airports for final goodbyes and a few uncomfortable parting moments.

We stood in line with many other passengers boarding a flight to Tel Aviv: Israelis, tourists, and some prospective immigrants like us. Families making Aliyah reminded me of the old-time farewell pictures: eyes filled with tears, luggage piled high. It looked and felt surreal for me: how something so mundane as a 5-hour trip could be so dramatic. It felt like we were leaving the country for good, which turned out to be true, as I never felt at home in Moscow again.

Israel met us with the warm, humid weather; the air near the Ben Gurion airport smelled of something sweet, perhaps date palm trees or a nearby citrus orchard. We gathered outside the terminal and were lifted to another building in the airport area, where we spent most of the evening. Tired families from all over the world were gathered in the hall and seated, waiting to meet representatives of some government office. We filled the papers for the Ministry of Interior and sat idle. A senior Russian-speaking gentleman distributed sandwiches with the remark 'the only free thing you will get in this country'. Oh boy, how wrong he was!

Long story short, a man wearing a kippah congratulated us, took our papers, and made a pair of the worst document photos my wife and I ever had. He handed us our freshly printed IDs and a tehudat ole - a document ensuring our rights as new immigrants. This is how you become a citizen of Israel via Aliyah. Finally, we were free to go! Free to go anywhere - the first time a grumpy sandwich-handing man appears to be wrong: after you make Aliyah, you are provided with a free taxi to anywhere in the country.

Our destination was Ashkelon, just some five kilometres off the Gaza border, where my wife's relatives resided. Their family moved to Israel ten years prior and were happy to host us and guide our first steps in the country.


In the third chapter of our story, I describe the day of our immigration - Aliyah

Bureaucracy

Part 4: Our first attempt

Part 3: Aliyah day