After a few days of merciless -- as far as both the process and the weather are concerned -- apartment-hunting, then, and a couple of days separation from last post's crazy, I was only marginally closer to finding a place to live. There were options where the apartment was fun and with a decent roommate, but in a bad location; there were options where the roommate was very nice but the room itself was not up to par; and there were, of course, options where the apartment and location were both fine, but the roommate situation was going to be a problem, as exemplified by Lady Seriously Gaga from the previous post. Most of the roommates from all three scenarios did seem very interested in me, however, so it was good to know that I had options!
I had found out recently that a friend of mine from a long time ago (I was either 10 or 11 when we met -- and I turned 24 yesterday, so it's been a while) was looking for a place to live in Tel Aviv. Although she is currently vacationing in Italy and therefore slightly more difficult to get a hold of, I was able to communicate with her a bit and we had even planned on living together, which would have been fantastic. The only problem was, she's a full-time student right now, and needed to be close to the university. As it happens, the university in Tel Aviv is in an area called Ramat Aviv, which is up north across the Yarkon River, and somewhat distanced from the hustle and bustle of downtown Tel Aviv. For a while, I thought this wasn't a problem; Tel Aviv's public transportation is excellent, and with buses and so forth, it would not have been that big a deal.
I visited Ramat Aviv with my dad and a friend of his yesterday for lunch. The place is dead. Downtown Bloomington sees infinitely more action than Ramat Aviv has ever dreamed of. There were about three and a half people outside when we were there, and while it's true that it was a hot day, a weekday, and the middle of the day, I was suddenly considerably less sure of myself. This was helped along by the fact that I was told by people who live there that the action doesn't pick up much -- that was what I was looking at for the year. There is a shopping mall in Ramat Aviv where, I guess, the people tend to be concentrated. Not so much my kind of place.
I decided, after all, that I didn't come all this way to miss Tel Aviv "by that much," as Maxwell Smart would say, so regretfully I told my friend Alma that living with her wouldn't work out and kept thinking about downtown.
That morning, I received a phone call from the lady in the first apartment that I looked at upon arrival.
This apartment's location is unbelievable. For those not politically or historically inclined, it is in a very central place, within walking distance of everything that I need -- malls, cafes, workplaces, the opera, movie theatres, the cute little boutiques, and everything else that downtown Tel Aviv has to offer, not to mention within walking distance of the beach as well. For those who are maybe interested a bit more in the political atmosphere of the place, the apartment is located within a few hundred feet of the site of Prime Minister Itzhak Rabin's assassination in 1995, where there is now a big plaza ("Kikar Rabin") with many commemorative plaques and sculptures.
As for the apartment itself, it is spacious for two people, on the ground floor of its building, on a very nice street (and relatively quiet, considering the location). I have not only my own room, which is a given, but my own bathroom and shower as well, as the roommate has the "master bedroom" with a bathroom inside. The kitchen is fully stocked with pots and dishes, the living room has all the necessary furniture, and the only thing that needs to come from me is a bed and other basics for the room itself. In addition to a roommate, 37 years old and a slight workaholic -- she works in an office all day, and runs a health/organic food consultancy business from home by evening -- there is a small dog named Bamba, who resembles most of all the creature whom I believe is a squirrel from the Ice Age franchise, with her big eyes and the fact that she is super skinny and long. In fact, it looks like someone took a small dog, and tried to make a bigger one by stretching her out in all directions. But being the dog lover that I am, that is, of course, another major draw for me!
When we had originally looked at the apartment, Einat (the roommate) did not appear to show much interest in me. She also currently lives with a guy, so it seemed that that suited her and she wanted to return to that. Having written it off, then, I continued to search, until I was asked back for a "callback" three days later. As it turns out, I was one of two potential roommates asked back to see the apartment and sit for a while, and the final decision was, while not determined this way, considered from ALL angles -- in this case, the unusual one was which two people Bamba seemed to have taken to the most. Apparently this dog has had a rough history of abuse, abandonment, and so forth, and is inherently mistrusting of people; so who the dog would be able to tolerate is actually an important question and a serious consideration for her owner.
I am, therefore, happy to announce that the dog picked me. I move in next week. :)
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
The Pilot
While it is perhaps customary to begin a blog with a traditional post, one that describes the "well, here I am" factor and the details of settling down in a new place, I am going to begin my blog with the extremely non-traditional:
And now for something completely different.
It is true that for me, fresh out of undergrad, still carrying the scents and sounds of a typical American liberal arts college in my purse, apartment and job hunting are a completely new realm of discovery. I know that many of us have had to undergo these experiences -- albeit not many fly to a different continent to do it, as our friend Doron wisely pointed out yesterday -- but thus far, apartment hunting has not proven to be that unusual or terrifying. Mostly just a drag, and a process that requires an inhuman level of stamina.
Until today.
Today at 2:30 Israel time, while much of Indiana was still asleep at 7:30 am, my dad and I put away the famous iPad that we had been using to surf homeless.co.il, the site with the most easily accessible Israeli apartment listings, and set out to find an apartment that had been simply listed as "by the sea." I had just finished speaking with the current resident on the phone, and as with most young, hip Israeli apartments, it was a situation in which she was in need of a roommate for the year. I had seen many places like this, my dreams of having my own little place in downtown Tel Aviv were beginning to seem unreasonable, despite my inherent fear of roommates, so I had told her that we were going to come look.
After a little bit of a navigational merry-go-round, we found the street -- actually called, in this case, an "alley." The alley itself revealed a stunning courtyard, arguably one of the most beautiful residential areas that we had ever seen, let alone in Israel, let alone in Tel Aviv, and let alone across the street from the beach, one of the biggest tourist attractions in the area. It was very cozy, with three tall stone buildings with a rounded facade (which I learned later house a round living room in each apartment), lots of palm trees and big leafy greenery shading the cobblestones and little paths from the merciless Middle Eastern sun, and all hidden in the shadow of a big fancy hotel, blocking most of the sounds of traffic and other unpleasant tourist-related noises.
We found the correct building of the three, and inside, located the correct apartment. The door opened to reveal an apartment to match the exterior, with, again, the rounded living room, two large bedrooms, all the trappings of a decent place to live, decorated with tasteful Indian art and draperies of the type which appeal to bohemian styles such as my own. The only trouble was, the door itself was opened by a total kook.
She was a woman in her sixties, at least, in hot pink leggings and a Hawaiian print tank top, with a long rag tied on her head and her heavy eyeliner smeared from the corners of her eyes downwards. She had a bit of an accent and immediately showed me in to see my potential room, the perfect size with an amazing little balcony overlooking the courtyard. She did not stop talking the entire time I was looking around, telling me that she had spent a great deal of time in India (where I am convinced her alignment received some sort of physical or mental hit), and that she had moved back here to live near her kids, the eldest of which is married and already has kids of his own. Apparently her younger son had lived with her in the apartment, until she decided six months ago that she had "grown up" and could have her own place (at which point he made the dramatic move five feet away to the apartment building next door), but recently decided that she was more used to living with people. Of course, she told me that she preferred living with someone younger, as she had been prone to doing, so did not mention in her ad her age.
By profession, our friend in the flat is an out-of-work meditation coach. (According to her, she is in marketing, but the thing that she is marketing is her CV, so I'm not sure it counts.) She told me that I should act fast on the apartment, as others have come and gone, looking, but she told me in confidence, as well, that their energies simply did not mesh with hers and she felt that she was constantly fighting them off. My energies she appeared to be very fond of. Apparently the fact that I sing leads to very positive chakras, karmas, and any other type of force that I am personally less familiar with, and I should feel very lucky that we "clicked" so well. As a result, she thinks that it would be best if the house was constantly filled with my song, at any moment that I am there and awake. I was immediately invited to come sit on her bed -- as you do in India, of course -- because we are already friends and have a deep karmic connection. And finally, I was told that if I am interested in the apartment, I don't even have to sign a lease, because she can tell that I am trustworthy -- being someone that really KNOWS people -- and I can just pay her and we'll be fine. And this is particularly generous, seeing as she bullied the landlady into a major kitchen renovation which would happen around the same time I was moving in, but has told me that I don't need to pay a penny extra, that she would take care of it all.
I don't know about the energies that were in that apartment before we left, but I do know that once we had walked out and were back in the car, my energies were all confused. I managed to be laughing hysterically and sobbing at the same time. Aba even said that he spent that time looking for the rainbow on my face. I guess I was disappointed about the loss of one of the most beautiful apartments in Tel Aviv (one that the consensus was it would be worth even to buy!), but no apartment in the world would make me live for a year with the cream of Tel Aviv's oddest.
And now for something completely different.
It is true that for me, fresh out of undergrad, still carrying the scents and sounds of a typical American liberal arts college in my purse, apartment and job hunting are a completely new realm of discovery. I know that many of us have had to undergo these experiences -- albeit not many fly to a different continent to do it, as our friend Doron wisely pointed out yesterday -- but thus far, apartment hunting has not proven to be that unusual or terrifying. Mostly just a drag, and a process that requires an inhuman level of stamina.
Until today.
Today at 2:30 Israel time, while much of Indiana was still asleep at 7:30 am, my dad and I put away the famous iPad that we had been using to surf homeless.co.il, the site with the most easily accessible Israeli apartment listings, and set out to find an apartment that had been simply listed as "by the sea." I had just finished speaking with the current resident on the phone, and as with most young, hip Israeli apartments, it was a situation in which she was in need of a roommate for the year. I had seen many places like this, my dreams of having my own little place in downtown Tel Aviv were beginning to seem unreasonable, despite my inherent fear of roommates, so I had told her that we were going to come look.
After a little bit of a navigational merry-go-round, we found the street -- actually called, in this case, an "alley." The alley itself revealed a stunning courtyard, arguably one of the most beautiful residential areas that we had ever seen, let alone in Israel, let alone in Tel Aviv, and let alone across the street from the beach, one of the biggest tourist attractions in the area. It was very cozy, with three tall stone buildings with a rounded facade (which I learned later house a round living room in each apartment), lots of palm trees and big leafy greenery shading the cobblestones and little paths from the merciless Middle Eastern sun, and all hidden in the shadow of a big fancy hotel, blocking most of the sounds of traffic and other unpleasant tourist-related noises.
We found the correct building of the three, and inside, located the correct apartment. The door opened to reveal an apartment to match the exterior, with, again, the rounded living room, two large bedrooms, all the trappings of a decent place to live, decorated with tasteful Indian art and draperies of the type which appeal to bohemian styles such as my own. The only trouble was, the door itself was opened by a total kook.
She was a woman in her sixties, at least, in hot pink leggings and a Hawaiian print tank top, with a long rag tied on her head and her heavy eyeliner smeared from the corners of her eyes downwards. She had a bit of an accent and immediately showed me in to see my potential room, the perfect size with an amazing little balcony overlooking the courtyard. She did not stop talking the entire time I was looking around, telling me that she had spent a great deal of time in India (where I am convinced her alignment received some sort of physical or mental hit), and that she had moved back here to live near her kids, the eldest of which is married and already has kids of his own. Apparently her younger son had lived with her in the apartment, until she decided six months ago that she had "grown up" and could have her own place (at which point he made the dramatic move five feet away to the apartment building next door), but recently decided that she was more used to living with people. Of course, she told me that she preferred living with someone younger, as she had been prone to doing, so did not mention in her ad her age.
By profession, our friend in the flat is an out-of-work meditation coach. (According to her, she is in marketing, but the thing that she is marketing is her CV, so I'm not sure it counts.) She told me that I should act fast on the apartment, as others have come and gone, looking, but she told me in confidence, as well, that their energies simply did not mesh with hers and she felt that she was constantly fighting them off. My energies she appeared to be very fond of. Apparently the fact that I sing leads to very positive chakras, karmas, and any other type of force that I am personally less familiar with, and I should feel very lucky that we "clicked" so well. As a result, she thinks that it would be best if the house was constantly filled with my song, at any moment that I am there and awake. I was immediately invited to come sit on her bed -- as you do in India, of course -- because we are already friends and have a deep karmic connection. And finally, I was told that if I am interested in the apartment, I don't even have to sign a lease, because she can tell that I am trustworthy -- being someone that really KNOWS people -- and I can just pay her and we'll be fine. And this is particularly generous, seeing as she bullied the landlady into a major kitchen renovation which would happen around the same time I was moving in, but has told me that I don't need to pay a penny extra, that she would take care of it all.
I don't know about the energies that were in that apartment before we left, but I do know that once we had walked out and were back in the car, my energies were all confused. I managed to be laughing hysterically and sobbing at the same time. Aba even said that he spent that time looking for the rainbow on my face. I guess I was disappointed about the loss of one of the most beautiful apartments in Tel Aviv (one that the consensus was it would be worth even to buy!), but no apartment in the world would make me live for a year with the cream of Tel Aviv's oddest.
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