A summary of our adventures during the Iran War.

Original text was published on FB on June 27th, two days after cease-fire started.

Writing can be both therapeutic and deliver a story at the same time. Please excuse some clunky English, as I choose to speak to those of you who are not from here but might find it interesting. This is a personal summary of the very recent Iran war, and I will not call it by a name the Orange Baby gave it. This text is by no means a journalistic accord. Facts were not checked, dates of stuff can be blurry, so is the times of the launches.

Let’s start with the end. The war is over, we are supposed to dance or something, go on about our lives as if nothing happened. “We won!” Get back to work. My ears are searching for the sound of the alert. The home-front-command app reminds me it is constantly working in the background, ready to notify us that our lives are at risk, yet again. We, by the way, never stopped working.

This new front against Iran had caught the everyday citizen by surprise. You see, while the government officials around the world were notified, the people of Israel were woken up at 3 AM with the news of the attack on Iran, with no actual missiles flying. Just a “An attack on Iran had begun. There will be retaliation, be prepared and near a shelter.” The thing is, nobody knew what they should be prepared for. Basically the end of the world sequence was initiated, and it was stressful.

Houses over 60 years old around the country don’t have shelters built under them. Public shelters were introduced around the 70’s, while the private ones in the buildings were added after the Gulf War, in the 90’s. So every “Historical Center” of each city (quotes are there since it’s strange to call a building built in the 50’s HIstorical) has fewer shelters. Is it enough to shelter the entire population? Let’s find out. It so happens that the building we rent our flat in has no shelter, and up until now we used to consider the staircase “enough”: it is completely internal, has an elevator shaft in it that gives it more structural integrity. See, in times of crisis everyone becomes an expert. Here I have shown Profound Knowledge of both architecture and ballistic missiles. There were quite a few attacks we spent at our lovely staircase, discussing current events with neighbours. Attacks from Gaza and Lebanon - this was our defence strategy.

An illustration back from 2021, of the vibe at a common staircase during an siren. We've been having these every couple of years, and usually the staircase was enough.

So, we were spooked the first night. We even took a bag and went to the public shelter in the square. Arriving there we see people coming out. I spotted a neighbour, and asked why we were coming out. He said “it’s pretty crammed and I don’t see a reason to stay there. It’s not an attack, just a be ready thing”. Bar went down and said it’s pretty full. OK then.

Went back home, wondered if we should pack a “go bag” like we did with the Iranian drone attack in October 2024. Decided we can go back to sleep and see what happens next.

The following day there was a missile strike at night, we were huddled in our staircase listening to the world going boom around us. Some blasts could be heard in the walls, felt through one’s feet. We are a family of humor and resilience. We do our best to keep panic at bay, especially when there are children present.

The day after, photos of destruction from Rishon Le-Zion, my parent’s city, and Bat Yam came in. Some missiles didn’t get intercepted, and the destruction was very impressive. We wanted shelter, but not enough to leave our home. I felt a strong need to stay at home, or next to it. In addition to having two cats which we can hardly catch, the need to be close to home gave a sense of control. If anything happens, we want to be around. Also, we will not be scared away from our lives, and will not give into panic. Around our home endless parking spaces appeared, a sign of crisis. People were leaving.

We sampled the public shelter at Masarik Square once, with Roie. Both kids were visiting friends that day, and we remained home. A public shelter at the center of Tel Aviv at 3 pm is packed, it also contains many dogs in various sizes. Never had I thought one must prepare their dog to be crammed in a shelter with so many people, sounds and smells, other dogs and the earth shakes under your feet. Many of them were shaking and scared, huddled against their owner. Barking was often heard, and quarrels needed sorting out.

A neighbor from the next building invited us to their shelter. Another neighbour, who left but remembered we have kids, called and said there is a new building in our street with underground parking and a shelter, it is hardly occupied and the storage facilities underground were vacant - plenty of space for half the street. We ended up sampling both during this war. I have additional people I say hi to on the street.

Attacks were taking place mostly at night, though not exclusively. Sometimes we were lucky and it was 10 pm, and other times at 2 or 4 in the morning. It had created a sensation of a curfew on the streets, everyone wanted to be home by nightfall. It was also hard to get up in the morning. We slept in, and tried to live our lives the rest of the time. I don’t know exactly when, but at some point it was decided we are making the most of it. We will live through this war as an adventure, and get the best memories from it.

The day-to-day moved mostly to Zoom. School classes were held online, with the main function of gathering kids together to share their experiences. Bar finished 8th grade and got a PDF certificate. He even did the end-of-year math acceleration program on Zoom, a strange and stressful experience. I got to teach two classes online too, my students showed up and I was so happy to see them and discuss animation with them. Hopefully we resume this upcoming week in our regular class in Haifa, overlooking the port.

It was hard to focus and very hard to paint. I managed to produce this little bit during the war, playing around with vector art. It is a strange thing to see on these pages, but I felt that this story needed sharp digital tools. You see, nobody cancelled the war in Gaza.

A poster-like bit about how we didn't forget there is a bloody war in our back yard, and the hostages are yet to be returned.

A day or two in, and we realized this is not Covid. The kids can see friends, we can have people over (with the disclaimer that there is no shelter in the house, and we hide at the neighbours’). We even went for lunch out, to spin the economy’s wheels. The kids shared a burger and we had fish and chips, both “celebratory” foods. We were celebrating life.

A good friend of Zoes told the Zoom class that they were spending their nights at the Allenby subway station. It is designed to function as a shelter in times like these to begin with (as is the subway in many cities around the world). It is spacious, deep underground, and has air conditioning. Zoe begged me to go spend the night there with her friend and her mom (who is a good friend of mine as well). I refused, imagining a night on the subway floor in a space full of strangers. We hardly slept anyway, a festival felt like the last thing I needed.

We spent a morning together with Zoe’s friend and her family. Zoe and I took the bus to her friend's house. The house is a 30’s beautiful eclectic style building. Lots of room and light, and no shelter. We had a sketching session drawing quick dog study. I said yes to spending the night, but we need to go home, shower and take stuff. In the afternoon we headed home, with the task of stopping by the grocer’s to get cheese and stuff.

The girls are doing a quick-drawing session. We draw dogs.

At the grocer’s we all got an alert on our phone. The deli man was just slicing my cheese for me. I asked him where they hide to shelter, and he said: “here in the fridge”. I was sure he was pulling my leg. He always jokes around, that guy. The staff (all Israeli-Arab from Jaffa) gathered around, opened the fridge and invited us in. It was us, Zoe and me, an American dude and an additional shopper. The fridge was small, we were surrounded by milk and cheese and bacon (yeah, it’s that kind of store), yet everyone fit in. They gave Zoe a fleece to warm herself in that fridge. Is it safe? I pray this never gets tested in reality. The fridge can’t be closed on all these people, so the guy was holding the door open with his foot. It’s a story Zoe is going to tell her grandkids. War adventure? Mission already accomplished.

A silly selfie of a silly moment - Zoe and myself hidden in the fridge. You can see the cured meat behind us.

It took us a bit to head back to join our friends at the Allenby station. We had dinner to prepare and eat, stuff to take, and catch a bus back. By the time we left home again it was dark. I was hoping we won’t have to wait long, as any precision in the bus schedule didn’t exist due to the war. A bus arrived and we hopped on. It was empty and it was zooming through apocalyptically empty streets.

Finally we arrived, they took their stuff and we headed down to the platform of Allenby station. The entrance to the station was guarded above ground and below, there was even a muzzled police dog with them at all times. When we descended to the platform around 10 pm, we saw that some people were already arranged for the night, and a couple of young men were fast asleep right next to where we were located. The girls were excited for the slumber party, and I was already pretty tired from this eventful day. The platform was fully lit, and remained so. People around were quiet, and the girls too kept the level of noise at a minimum. A photographer asked if it’s ok to take pictures of us, so later we may see our slumber party featured in some photography project. A reporter with a mic and a recording device came and asked them, and us, if we want to be interviewed. He asked the girls questions, and took a photo. They were later featured in the channel 12 online news. The guy was touring for interesting shelter stories that night.

Platform Camping!

Around 12 am we were trying to “bring it home” with the sleep part, when an alert came in. People from the neighborhood flooded in, and the energy levels rose again. The couple of guys next to us didn’t even stir, continuing snoring. There was an additional alert 30 minutes after the release of the first one. A couple of immigrants from Africa, carrying a baby, were seated on the bench at the platform. They didn’t have a thing with them, and we gave them a mattress.

The girls fell asleep at 2 am. I think I was “out” before they were, hiding my eyes from the lights under the sleeping bag.

The alarm woke me at 8, as we didn’t want to be last to leave. We packed our stuff and headed up to meet the new day. We had coffee, and the day that followed was a blur. Here is a photo of Zoe and me, on the platform of Allenby station, at 8:15 in the morning.

Morning on the platform, around 08:30 am.

Today I unpacked the Go-Bag (see? We ended up packing one at some point), rediscovering items of clothing I forgot I put in. For Roie I chose zombie apocalypse t-shirts for the case we can’t return home. It seemed fitting.