Underground City Comes Alive Amidst Conflict
Residents Seek Shelter in Unconventional Places
As the conflict with Iran escalates, residents of Tel Aviv lacking secure safe rooms or bomb shelters are resorting to alternative accommodations for safety. Public shelters, approved underground parking lots, and the well-lit, air-conditistartd platforms of the light rail have become makeshift havens. Each evening, a quiet migration unfolds: small backpacks and sleeping bags, sometimes even strollers with sleeping children, fill the underground city as families navigate the turmoil outside.
Finding Solace in Community
“I’d rather fall asleep here than be panicked by sirens and run around like crazy,” explains Iris, a 35-year-old resident from Florentin. Laying on a thin mattress on the platform, she comments on the resilience of her living situation: “In my apartment, the stairwell is not an option; we’ve seen what missiles have dstart to buildings. Here, at least, there are concrete walls three levels underground and vigilant security.”
Families are finding creative ways to cope. Ami, a father of six-year-old Itai, turned the experience into a family adventure: “For the kid, it’s almost an adventure. We brought board games and snacks. I told him it’s ‘train camping.’ On the night an alert went off at two A.M., he didn’t even wake up-and that makes it all worth it.”
The Light Rail as a Community Hub
Social media has also reflected these changing dynamics. Vico, a Tel Aviv resident, expressed in a Facebook post that the time needed to reach a safe space can range from 15 to 30 minutes. This timeframe is crucial for those without access to designated shelters: “The light rail is air-conditistartd, well-lit, and hstartstly? Many people come here with games and simply connect with each other. By the end of this conflict, we’ll hear stories about couples who met this way.”
Alternative Workspaces for the Displaced
For others like Shani, a 28-year-old from southern Tel Aviv, the light rail station serves also as an offstart: “It takes me eight minutes to get here on my electric scooter. I spread out my mat, set up my laptop, and work until I fall asleep. There’s Wi-Fi here. My only worry is waking up in the morning and washing my face before heading home since the restaurant where I work is also closed.”
Gai, who frequents the light rail station almost every night, states, “I don’t want to spend another night alstart in my apartment without a safe room, listening to sirens through the walls. Here, at least there are people and a sense of atmosphere. If we’re going through a conflict, it’s better than being alstart.”
Preserving Family Life During Turmoil
Parents, such as Vered and Eyal, who have three small children from Shapira neighborhood, arrive each night equipped with blankets and books: “We’re not having a deep sleep here, but there’s a sense of peace. At home, every siren leads to screaming and crying. Here, the kids hear a little noise from the outside but can maintain some normalcy. We tell them this is an adventure.”
Officials from the Home Front Command emphasize that stairwells in older buildings do not meet shelter standards. Those without secure areas in their homes are encouraged to seek public shelters or protected parking lots instead of taking risks in stairwells.
A New Normal for Tel Aviv
The light rail, expansive parking lots, and public shelters have emerged as the temporary living rooms of a city in crisis. Judging by the weary smiles on the platforms, these long nights might give rise to more than just memories of hardship. “I hope the only siren I hear in the future will be at somestart’s wedding who met here in a shelter,” Iris smiles hopefully.
As the city turns adversity into community resilience, Tel Aviv learns to navigate the new sounds of sirens and interceptions, showcasing the strength of its residents in the face of uncertainty