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.