He wrote to his ex-boss at the bakery and to his kibbutz 'mother' asking them for help and advice. It was a big decision to make and his heart was in it. He knew where his heart lay. He also knew it would take time for something to be worked out. The government of Israel didn't freely give out residence permits, so a part of him was prepared for disappointment and he was only holding his hopes just above zero. If a permit wasn't granted he'd no idea what he'd do.
And he hated the waiting too.

Once a week he'd go to the cinema by himself, sitting near the back of the usually empty theatre. At most he'd only ever counted six other people at the afternoon showings.