Built along a sandy beach, Tel Aviv has a relaxed and friendly atmosphere. People walk around in very light clothes, T-shirts, shorts and sandals, and move casually on electric scooters and skateboards. It is a pleasure. So that no one forgets that the country is at war, the anti-rocket alarm sounds. Not like in Mykonos Town, where the seismic alert is played on every post. Here it is heard far away, powerful, deep and mysterious, like in an apocalyptic movie. Something was fired in our direction.
At the open-air Savidor bus terminal, the passengers around me are not afraid, but rather annoyed by the setback. We only leave our place in line because the guards are rushing us to the shelter, which is 20 meters away. It is underground, but no one goes down, because while there is a slight chance of getting hit in the head by the bullet, there is a much greater chance of breaking it in the rush.
We crowd into the entrance, the doors of which do not close. A young American tourist pushes her way through the crowd to look outside.