Esther D. Kustanowitz writes MyUrbanKvetch and JDatersAnonymous, among other things. She is also a contributor for Jewlicious and PresenTense Magazine, where she serves as senior editor. She lives in New York, visits California, and is spending most of the summer in Israel: attending the President’s Conference, staffing the ROI Summit for Jewish Innovators, and working on her book. More is always available at EstherK.com.

Writing about Israel and why I love it isn’t something new for me. Frankly, I’m tempted to just leave you with a list of links to my other blog posts on the subject until something really fresh or insightful comes to my mind. But Israel deserves better than that. (Plus, today is my assigned day–erev Shabbat Hagadol–so I can’t pass that up.)

I love all the regular stuff, sure: that Jerusalem attracts crazy hordes of tourists of all religious and political persuasions from all over the world; that Tel Aviv’s a center of industry and hi-tech, and that medical breakthroughs happen every day in such a small country; that Jews everywhere have a place to go; that history is integrated into every waking moment of awareness for those who live there; that street signs and neighborhoods tell a story for those who are inclined to listen.

But one of the central reasons I love Israel is because of the sheer existence of Hebrew and my ability to sometimes understand it. Because language is a central fascination in my life in general, and because Hebrew was always a value and an aspect to my education when I was younger, the fact that there’s a whole country that speaks this language that consists of modern extrapolations from Biblical words has always just amazed and delighted me. I love poring over Hebrew menus in restaurants and reading pop culture articles in Ma’ariv on the weekends, inevitably getting stuck on words that turn out to be English. In retrospect, even the non-comedic doctor’s visit contains elements of comedy related to language and comprehension. And I love the references to Tanakh that pop up in decidedly secular pop culture contexts. Bible, language, history–it’s all part of the cultural awareness and composite here, no matter where you go (or don’t go) to shul. And, admittedly, I love being enough of an “insider” that I hear ancient echoes in every word of Hebrew spoken.

I love the way Israel absorbs American culture, but changing it slightly: witness the proliferation of Israeli bands covering Britney’s “Toxic,” or the American-born hip-hop taking on a distinctly Israeli flavor. I love that the Aleph-Bet can be turned into a rap song, inspiring Israeli children to believe they’re hip-hop stars. And I love the way Israeli hip-hop, relentlessly contemporary in its very pulse, acknowledges and converges with the past (check out Subliminal’s collaboration with Gevatron, or Hadag Nachash’s animated take on Zionism).

I love Israel for its ability to inspire locally and from afar, whether it’s community support and outreach disguised as comic relief or publications and creative innovations that express the emergence of a new generation. I love that people I know are involved in changing the face of Israel inside its borders and (see eCamp Israel and Israel2020 as two examples) and abroad. I love that a new generation, gifted with Israel by mysterious benefactors whose identities they often don’t even seek out, is passing the enthusiasm to their parents’ generation, and generating new interest in Israel as a way to strengthen Jewish identity and family bonds. (On a related note, you can vote for finalists in the “Let My Parents Go” contest here.)

“Israel is real,” as the tourism campaign once announced. But Israel is also surreal. It’s the kind of place where you could go to a coffee shop in Jerusalem and see more Upper West Siders than in New York. You might find out that a new friend of yours knows your cousin. Your friends might even end up as graffiti, and you’re not sure how to feel about that, except like you’re part of a group of people that is making an impact. This is the place where all those moments of Jewiness past come back to haunt you, mostly for better, but occasionally for worse.

I love Israel when I’m there, with friends and family, as I will be — in droves — this summer to celebrate Israel’s 60th with an extended stay. I look to Israel for inspiration, hoping that my time there will enable me to close an important chapter of my life by writing many new chapters, both literally and figuratively. And I even love the fact that after I come home, I’ll think about being there and write additional pages in my denial diary.

When I speak Hebrew, I feel Israel on my lips and tongue, which–since clearly not yet cleaving to my palate–seems to be some sort of proof that I am still elevating Jerusalem to the top of my joy. When I take meandering journeys through YouTube, stopping for entertainment by the TACT Family, the Israeli sketch comedy troupe “Ktzarim,” or classics like Kaveret’s “Sippurei Poogy,” I feel Israel in my ears and in whatever place the collective unconscious of my culture resonates most. As a great-great-granddaughter of a founder of the town of Petach Tikvah–who made aliyah by walking from his native Hungary to Jerusalem–I think about my past 12 trips to Israel and my upcoming 13th, and feel my connection in my blood.

When I’m there, I’m aware that this is an Israel my ancestors never dreamed of. And I feel so lucky to be a part of it.

The 60 Bloggers project is co-production of Jewlicious.com and the Let My People Sing Festival. It is published daily for 60 days to celebrate Israel’s 60 birthday.