We were met at the apartment we Rented by the manager, a Scot who lives in Israel and manages several properties. He gave us a tour of the apartment - a bright modern space with 2 bedrooms, 1.5 baths and an open kitchen-living-dining-room floor plan. We’re on the third floor of what has been called “the most fashionable street in Tel Aviv.”
All the windows have curtains and shutters - great for jetlagged Renters. He showed us how to work the place - the heat, the lights, the washer and dryer. The boiler we are still trying to work out 13 days later. If there is one thing I now know that I completely take for granted in the US - it’s hot water. We now keep a constant watch that the boiler is green-lit at all times. It’s the only way we can actually fill the tub or get through a shower without the water going cold. On closer inspection, the sheets weren’t has horrible as I imagined. They are more Pierre Deux than Motel Six. I was relieved because by the time we could shop for sheets it was saturday and saturday here is like our sunday and so everything is closed.
The art in the apartment is surprisingly tasteful - and I’m opinonated on this subject. I’d rather have white walls than bad art. The exception is one painting which has been given special treatment - a gilt frame, built in overhead lighting and it occupies an alcove built especially for it. I find it disturbing. Or maybe, I am projecting something disturbing onto it. It involves a dark skinned boy, and light skinned woman, an oversized green rooster and a barn. Maybe there is symbolism i'm not understanding? Its a local artist because the signature is in Hebrew. Anyone care to title it?
WTF?
Mr. Scot took us down to the garage to show us our parking space. The parking is a series of double layered car cages that, with the push of a button, take the lower car to a subterranean burial place. I’m looking forward to getting our rental car at the end of the month to be able to sink the car that shares a space with us. He gave us the keys and the clicker, showed us the trash and returned us to the apartment to say goodbye.
He called the elevator as we began to shut the front door when we heard “wait! i forgot to show you this…” In the hall, to the left of our door is a white door with hebrew lettering in Green. He threw the door open and flicked the light on “This, this is your bomb shelter.” He presented it as if it were a gift. He must have registered our shock so he shrugged and added “just in case.” It’s a fairly good sized space, maybe meant for the four units on this floor to share? I was so stunned by the introduction of our “bonus room” that I forgot to ask. The permanent residents seem to treat it more like a storage space. There’s an old gold chair with exposed wires, a chalky green bean bag, a stack of deconstructed boxes, someones bike, an old washing machine…nothing that would actually sustain you or keep you comfortable during an air raid.
Bomb Shelter or Storage? It would be better if that shopping cart were filled with canned goods...
Only the Air Filtration system, the Ladder and Hatch system, and the doors seem necessary. I know this because I was surprised to find these areas highlighted with glow in the dark paint once I turned off the flourescents.
In the event of an Emergency....
I did some research and apparently most contemporary buidings in Tel Aviv have shelters built in. Most are underground, a frightening prospect for me. My Mom and I fight over the memory of having a panic attack on the submarine ride at Disneyland and having to get off. That sub is summered in exactly 5 feet of water. I thought it was my memory and she claims its hers. Memory can be a faulty thing but the truth is we did got off the ride, so SOMEONE had a panic attack. I know that I started, but didnt finish, the Solterranea tour in Naples where people hid underground during WW2. I know I went down 1 of the 8 levels of the Kaymakli underground city in Central Turkey. I freaked on level 2 where the church was located and dead were buired - the lack of light and air didn’t help.
Call me crazy but I do think everyone of those little circles is a spirit - I FELT it!
By the time we arrived in Vietnam, I admitted my claustrophobia and didn’t bother to add the Cu Chi tunnels used during the War to my itinerary. I also have an irrational fear of underground parking in San Francisco and LA. So, yes, thank you Mr. Scot, i will accept the gift of my third floor shelter and, “just in case,” the gift of life!