An unexpected extended stay in Jerusalem
'We were exposed to the threats that the Israeli nation is accustomed to living with every day'
It was to be our shortest trip to Israel yet – a quick two-week dash to see my precious elderly cousin, attend a two-day Technion Board of Governors meeting, and have five nights of spiritual uplift and reconnecting with old friends and family in Jerusalem.
Indeed we dashed – but our paths ended up being to and from the safe room in our Jerusalem hotel!
Arriving in Israel in early June 2025, the atmosphere seemed very comparable to that we had found a year earlier: a buzzing society going about its regular business, wounded still and yearning for the return of the hostages and an end to the war in Gaza, but living, shopping and dining out. In Haifa, the beauty of the city, the stunning view of the port from our hotel on Mount Carmel and the vivid bougainvillea blooms in so many bright shades were breathtaking.
And arriving in Jerusalem at sunset, the golden hues of the city of my birth as always brought tears to my eyes. The usual Jerusalem activities followed: a trip to Mea Shearim to buy Bar Mitzvah gifts for a grandchild, an uplifting visit to the Kotel, and a couple of meals with friends and relatives.
The first indication of trouble was the red alert during Thursday night 12 June, when we had our first experience of being woken by the screaming siren on our compulsory Home Command app. There were no incoming missiles yet, but the IAF had initiated their assault on Iran and we were being warned. We rushed to the safe room, one of which is located on every floor of our hotel. Two metres by three metres, the room is bare and rather claustrophobic, equipped with a made-up bed and supplies of water.
The reinforced security door, which must be kept closed, is definitely protective but adds another layer of confinement. Finding it uncomfortable, we soon relocated to a more conducive safe area in the hotel’s basement synagogue – just as fortified but much more spacious and occupied by a couple of dozen of our fellow guests. Soon we felt like family. There is a new olim couple from Mexico with a one-year-old who live in an apartment without a safe room opposite the hotel and who are welcomed to shelter there. Also here is a family of ten from Florida who had planned a Jerusalem wedding in a fancy event space. They relocated the chuppah to the hotel at the last minute. Their sheva brachot for the following days were slotted into red-alert-free times, and we were privileged to be part of one of them over the breakfast table at 10am on the third day of the war. More Jerusalem tears for me.
Our hotel is remarkable. As soon as the hostilities broke out, the hotel staff were invited to move into guest rooms if they had no safe rooms at their homes – a situation that unfortunately applies to 60 per cent of Israeli residences. Guests who had been accommodated on the upper floors were moved to lower levels to enable escape by stairs if necessary. Extension discounts were offered to travellers whose departure was prevented by the airport closure, and guests were encouraged to bring some breakfast food to their room fridges “to have for lunch”.
Every time I experienced these instances one expression landed on my lips: “Only in Israel.”
The decision about staying (inevitably briefly) fully dressed or donning pyjamas at sleep time suddenly became moot, since we are now adept at getting dressed, heading downstairs to the mamad (secured space) and being seated in our chairs there within two minutes of the siren.
Packed into my always-ready backpack is water, Bissli, chocolate, a phone charger, a jacket, and a sudoku puzzle book to while away the time. I have counted 15 such red alerts during the time we’ve been here – most during the night, and several in the daytime.
Confined to our hotel room by Covid-era-like movement restrictions, a lightbulb idea arrived from friends also stuck in Jerusalem: why don’t we start a WhatsApp group to share information, raise questions and simply kvetch as we navigate our enforced sequestration in Israel? The Rising Lions Aussies Group was born, and now we have 30 members. We share war and travel updates, discuss exit options and just know there are others in our situation with whom we can communicate.
We’re still here, with no idea of when Ben Gurion Airport will reopen and flights will resume. Meanwhile we check in frequently with friends and family, and we socialise with our fellow guests – travellers from all parts of the world with stories to tell. Daily we do a quick sivuv (circuit) of the block and we try to manage daytime naps to store energy for the broken nights. The warm Jerusalem sunshine mocks our inability to trip around and enjoy it, but the balcony is a lifesaver.
This surreal stay in Israel has been an inspiring, if confronting, experience for Michael and me. We were exposed to the threats that the Israeli nation is accustomed to living with every day. We have opted to sit out the situation rather than seek overland exit routes via Jordan or Egypt. Weirdly, we have felt safe – strongly protected by our hotel and by the government of Israel. More affected by sleep deprivation than by fear, we have somehow taken on the calm, stoic attitude of the amazing people of Israel. Having experienced this time beside and amongst them, we know, as we have always known, that now and forever, Am Yisrael Chai.
Miriam Suss OAM is a former CEO of the Ethnic Communities Council of Victoria and a member of the Victorian Multicultural Review advisory group. She has held many communal positions.
comments