All was well upon arrival, customs and immigration were a breeze. Again, no questions asked of me. Really, I thought, not "what are you doing here? how long will you stay?" not one question... in security-conscious Israel? I suppose I look extremely non-threatening, but perhaps it also speaks to the down-to-business attitude about security--no pretenses of "random" screening, or the frivolity of hassling people randomly. They probably use their national intelligence and resources better than that here.
I had booked a hostel in advance and my sources told me that a train station was within minutes of the hostel. So I exited the airport and bought a train ticket, only to find out the next train did not leave for an hour and a half! Not only that, the station I had planned to go to was closed at night, so I had to go to the central station which was much further from my hostel. A selection of friendly people on the train gave me this information and gave me other tips about transportation in Tel Aviv. Once at the station, I checked at the bus booth to find out there were no buses here at night... then a taxi it will be. I have nothing against taxis, buses are just cheaper, you know where they're going, more reliable and reassuring when you look like a naive tourist.
So I got into the cab with another woman and we dropped her off after about 15 minutes. We drove to the neighborhood I had requested, but the particular street was eluding the driver. He asked me for their phone number, but I could not produce it because it was written on a note that I put into the pocket of my suitcase, now in the trunk. He pulled over and I opened the trunk and grabbed the envelope with my important papers in it. I still could not find the phone number, so I opened my backpack to get out my book with a map in it. The map was too large scale to have every street name, and it was all in Hebrew, so I could show him the general area, but not specifics. I then took out my book to look at the map in it, and the driver, now frustrated, pulled over to ask a person on the street for directions. The fourth guy he asked jumped into the passenger seat and rode along with us for a few blocks, then he jumped out and we soon arrived.
A few bars were open around the neighborhood--the outdoor type of establishment with florescent lights illuminating plastic sidewalk tables, but my street was desolate, on the edge of the neighborhood. I paid the cabbie and punched in the secret door code, then tromped up three flights to the dark hallway that marked the entrance of the hostel. There were "shh" signs around the walls and they had left a sign saying "Jaime" with an arrow, marking which room and bed for me to take. I stopped in the laundry room to reorganize so as not to wake people in the 8-bed dorm where I was assigned; it was now around 3 am. In the shuffle of looking for maps and numbers, some of my zippers were not closed properly and to my dismay, my wallet appeared to be missing. Horrified, I ran downstairs to see if it had fallen in the stairwell. Not in the stairwell, not in the entry, not on the curb, not in the street. I returned to the top floor and unpacked every nook and cranny where I could have possibly left it. No results.
I spent the next hour and a half looking up numbers and calling my four credit cards to cancel them. Thanks to google voice this was a breeze (sorry about the noise to the hostel folks sleeping in the hammocks in the common area of the roof). It still took a while and by the time I finished, my heart was still on double speed and I could not sleep for anything in the world. I looked at my clock and it was now 5 am, so I set the alarm for 10:30 so I could make 11:00 check-out.
At around 6:00, a fellow roommate took out his laptop, sat on his bed and bestowed a bright blue hue on the room while making irritating typing noises. By 6:30 the sun was peeking through the windows and by 7:30 people were waking. I must have slept for an hour or two because I woke up to my alarm and looked forward to a new day.
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