I was under the impression that we were flying into Israel at night and leaving the next morning. But when you're on vacation, you forget what day it is.
We had one more day in Israel. Fuck.
There was a cease fire... That shit lasted 5 hours. Oh well. We're going to make the most of this. Tel Avivians don't like what's going on, but they don't seem to be too deterred. We'll do the same.
We get up somewhat early on Friday morning, and do some shopping for dinner, in preparation for Shabbos. Retail businesses are closed, and we read that people eat dinner with their families and then go out, as bars and entertainment venues are allowed to be open.
I've never had a shabbos dinner. This will be nice. We'll make a little meal and go out.
We spend the day at the beach. It's beautiful and everyone is out with their kids, their friends. Everyone seems normal. Maybe we'll go a day without a siren.
The sun is starting to set in Old Jaffa. Most of the restaurants are closed. But some are open. Hmm. Maybe they're Arab-run and don't have to follow the same rules. I make justin walk around and look for ice cream with me.
I'm a real dick about ice cream. I won't get ice cream in a place where I see ice crystals on the edge of the container, or if it looks like it was melted and re-frozen. We walk past two places that have ice cream, and I say no, justin is so patient... He lets me be an ice-cream-dick and we go a little further. And then I see a very promising place called Capitolina. Two huge ice cream freezers and the ice cream is molded in the containers like gelato but it's ice cream. A shit ton of unique flavors. I settle on the Caramelized-banana-almond-dacquoise and the Indian kulfi.
This is the best ice cream I have ever eaten in my entire life.
Also, when I get my new kitchen, I'm making ice cream.
So we're sitting in this little ice cream shop while Justin patiently deals with me waxing poetic about this manna-from-heaven-ice-cream, like he gives a shit, and then... The sirens start again.
I now wonder if my ordering ice cream is the impetus behind missiles being fired at Tel Aviv. The first sirens started when I was in another tel aviv cafe.
The cafe is all glass. I get away for the glass and pull justin to come with me, he's at the point where he doesn't even want to take cover any more. There's a concrete stairwell in the store, and I hide behind it and walk up a couple of stairs, just like we did in the first ice cream place. I see a woman walk into the ice cream place and the girl behind the counter points her in some direction outside. I'm assuming she's pointing her to a shelter. I hear her say to her colleague, presumably about us, "where are THEY going?" Justin's at the base of the stairs, looking out the window, and now I'm worried that if a missile strikes, he's going to get blasted with glass.
Outside there's a bunch of people standing up under the awning, backs agains the steel doors of the closed restaurant. But there's a couple of people right in the middle of the street, looking up and pointing.
Tel Avivians are so used to this at this point, and trust in the Iron Dome so much, that now many people don't take cover; they're looking to watch the show.
There was a man up the stairs in the cafe, cleaning the bathroom. He walked down the stairs to take out the trash, and then walked back outside as if to say "I'm not taking this trash out NOW." He looked really confused.
But the young girl and her colleague running the cafe? They took no cover. They stood there, hanging out, looking outside. We heard the familiar "pop" of an intercepted missile and we came out from the stairwell. I said to the girl, "so, I guess you're used to this by now?"
She says to me, seriously, matter-of-factly, but not angrily, "I'm from Ashkelon. This happens all the time. Have a nice afternoon."
Justin and I walk back to the apartment, nonplussed. Until I realize that in our hiding-from-missiles haste, I left my Invisalign braces on the table. We walk back, and I find that the couple sitting at the table we were at placed them on a napkin and put them on the table next to them. Gross. Felt badly about that one.
It's now about 7:30, and the supermarket is still open. And so are many of the bar/restaurants. We were fooled! Lots of stuff is open on shabbos. We stuck with the plan, and made a dinner of hummus, yogurt cheese (justin swears it was goat cheese, but i guess we'll never know), ravioli, beet salad, and fresh tomatoes with cucumbers. Some dinner, and we'll find somewhere to go out.
We're lazily enjoying a post-dinner internetfest on the Israel/Palestine conflict, and the sirens ring again. Loudly. Justin rolls his eyes. I don't really feel like moving either, until I hear out next door neighbors shuffle to get out of their apartment. Fuck, if they're doing it, so are we.
The hallway of our building is pitch black, and we're using our phone flashlights to make our way as far downstairs as we can. We're barefoot and it's dirty. The girls are French (one speaks Hebrew also) and one of them is in her panties, clearly forgetting that other people live in that building. There's no basement, but there's a little alcove below ground that we hide in. Some dude who took enough time to light a cigarette before looking for shelter comes down the stairs and says something to the girls in Hebrew. Justin is convinced he only left the apartment to see a hot piece of ass in her underwear. He didn't stay. We hear four or five explosions this time, more than we're heard yet at any one time. Two are loud. Two are not. With each explosion, we look at each other and our eyes widen. One of the girls looks at her friend and simply says, "quatre." I giggle. "Je comprend un peu," I say. She giggles. We wait longer than normal. "C'est tout?" I ask, and we all head back up the stairs.
We're really not scared at this point that a missile is going to hit us. We have almost as much faith in Iron Dome as the Tel Avivians. Justin said if it weren't for me, he wouldn't have even left the apartment. The Israeli military are some of the fiercest, amazing motherfuckers on the planet, and they make people feel safe. You or I may not be happy with what is going on here, or feel that Israel is in the right, but you have to admire the dedication and skill Israel has in defending itself. America does not feel this safe, or this trusting of it's military or police force. Just this morning, I saw a video where a number of Staten Island cops killed a man with asthma by putting him in a choke hold... After breaking up a fight. I don't live in a region of war, but I don't live in one of safety and trust, either.
So, no fear, but a couple of missiles exploding is a bit of a buzz-kill. We were staying in.
Our wonderful airbnb host called us a discount taxi service for about $40 to the airport for 5:30 in the morning. Normally we would have opted for public transport, but FRIGGING SHABBOS. no public transport. The airport is at most a half hour away, and the flight is scheduled for 9:00 am, but considering how intense security here has been, better safe than sorry.
I guess that's the theme of this whole trip so far. Better safe than sorry.
We roll up in the taxi to the gate, and the taxi driver rolls down our window. The security guy says, "where you from?" I say "New York." He rolls his eyes and says ok. Turkish airline security asks us only a couple of questions.
"why did you come to Israel?"
"Vacation."
"Why NOW?"
"We didn't know."
She was satisfied with that response. A good and appropriate question, and a good and appropriate answer.
I'm going to apologize to Israel for my haste. I'll be back, even though I traded all my remaining sheckles for lira. Hopefully everyone will get their shit together by then. But maybe next time I'll start in Cyprus, with a side trip to Israel. Just in case.
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