Daniela Lachster, her husband, and two sons loved their thriving Buenos Aires Jewish community. But Argentina is also a country with a long history of economic and political uncertainty – two big reasons why Jews there consider aliyah.

The Lachsters made the move to Israel at the start of 2023, and needless to say, it hasn’t always been easy. They have dealt with Oct. 7, the Iran wars, job searches, and settling two children, ages 23 and 16, into a new country. “It is a process. If you ask in five years, I will be speaking in a different manner,” says Lachster.

Lachster’s candor and heartfelt descriptions of their experiences searching for jobs, interacting with not always helpful government officials, and the lack of services for Spanish speakers as compared to English speakers are useful to those making aliyah from Spanish-speaking countries.

Lachster feels that the job search for those over 50 is fraught with challenges and perhaps age discrimination. She and her husband both had meaningful and fulfilling pre-aliyah careers. Lachster worked for the National Bank of Argentina for 20 years, then as a volunteer for the AMIA (Asociación Mutual Israelita Argentina) Jewish community institution, and briefly for a gold jewelry wholesaler.

Lachster’s husband came to Israel with very impressive credentials, which include degrees in business administration, language skills, and a five-year stint (2011-2016) with the multinational energy corporation Chevron. His work took the family from Buenos Aires, with 180,000 to 250,000 Jewish members, to Mandeville, Louisiana, and its small Jewish community – a 40-minute drive from New Orleans. The Lachsters enjoyed their time in the US – especially their frequent eight-hour trips to central Florida’s beaches.

The Lachsters returned to Argentina from 2016 to 2021, a period that coincided with the COVID pandemic and Argentina’s very restrictive regulations. “They were very strict. We couldn’t go out of our homes for six or seven months. They closed the whole country, and we were only allowed to go out 100 meters. We saw that other countries had a life,” Lachster said.

She noted the psychological toll that being confined to home was taking on her, the family, and the entire country, and began thinking seriously of moving. She conceded, “I never thought of aliyah because the US was the promised land.” Returning to the US wasn’t an option, as it would have required a special visa.

After moving to Israel, Lachster has found cultural differences to be “the hardest.” She cited service providers who “seem angry,” are not “speaking nicely,” and treat people “with no respect.” Lachster’s dry sense of humor comes through often. “It is easier to go to the moon than to go on aliyah.”

She also notes cultural differences in the areas of education and parenting. She is particularly attuned to such issues in her work as a preschool assistant. She has observed children in Israel frequently left alone and not properly supervised for many hours, and parents who do not set limits for their children. Lachster is taking classes in early childhood education through the David Yellin College of Education.

Another issue Lachster has faced is in accessing services for immigrants. She laughed as she described a visit with the Aliyah and Integration Ministry. She was assigned to a Russian speaker who was unclear about her benefits, and she ended up signing up for National Insurance Institute (NII - Bituah Leumi) benefits on her own.

Lachster observes that “all olim have problems” but feels it is even harder for olim from South America. She noted, “If you speak English, you have more organizations to help – like Nefesh B’Nefesh and ESRA. But they don’t help South Americans.”

The aliyah process has been challenging for her husband and for their two sons. Despite her husband’s impressive resume, it has been difficult to find what he is looking for. In the meantime, he has been working as a freelancer with computer systems. “The truth is, it is very hard to find work if you are over 50!”

Her older son spent six months on Kibbutz Ma’agan Michael after arriving. He’s now in the IDF. “He is good now and is acclimated to the army – but he didn’t learn any Hebrew on the kibbutz.”

Lachter explained that trying to understand the army is confusing and frustrating. Her son is looking forward to completing his army service and traveling before beginning his university studies in Israel.

Her younger son found it difficult to master Hebrew – despite attending Jewish day school in Argentina. He started school in Modi’in and benefited from a year and a half of ulpan.

Despite the challenges, Lachster keeps her perspective and remains positive. And she reminds herself of the challenges that made life uncertain in Argentina. “There were economic problems, and we had no idea who the next leader would be."

Lachster feels lucky to have found such a lovely community. “We found our place in Modi’in, in a small, self-managed synagogue full of olim from all over the world. It’s our second home – a place where we pray, celebrate, and sometimes just share a meal and a laugh. There, amid the mix of languages and accents, I’ve learned that belonging is not about where you’re from but about where you choose to give your heart.”

Lachster has found another useful outlet for coping and settling into life in her new country. “A few days after arriving, I created @comer_alia, my Instagram page where I began sharing pieces of this new life. What started as a personal diary soon became a meeting point – a space to connect with other olim who, like me, were learning to walk, speak, and dream again in a new language and a new land.” 

She uses her Spanish-language Instagram to chronicle “the good and bad things that happen to me.”
She uses the forum to write about trips she takes, shakshuka and other foods (“I love to eat”), and shopping experiences. And she uses it to describe and work through “the things I didn’t know.” She rattled off a long list, which includes NII and Terem Urgent Care. She also proudly uses her Instagram page as a tool for public diplomacy. “Christians in Argentina read it and like seeing their holy places.”

Lachster shared a thus far unpublished piece titled “My Aliyah Story: Finding Light in a New Beginning,” where she writes, “Making aliyah is more than a change of country – it’s a leap of faith. In January 2023, I left Argentina with my family, our suitcases full of dreams and our hearts full of questions. We didn’t know exactly what was waiting for us in Israel, but we believed in something bigger – in building a life filled with meaning.

“The path of integration is not always simple, especially for Latin American olim. There are moments of frustration, of longing, of doubt. But there is also growth. Every challenge brings a new lesson, and with time, patience, and openness, life begins to flow naturally. I often think of four Hebrew words that have guided me along the way: savlanut (patience), emunah (faith), bitachon (trust), and sovlanut (tolerance). They are not just ideas – they are daily acts of strength.”

Lachster reminds those considering aliyah that “it is a process. It is a hard process.” And she offers, “My hope is that every oleh who arrives with a dream finds not only challenges but also light – the light of connection, of faith, and of belonging. Because aliyah is not just a journey across continents – it’s a journey toward the heart.” ■

Daniela Lachster, 52
From Buenos Aires
to Modi’in, January 2023