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By Victoria Braverman

It’s a cosy little house. Even though there’s no heating, like the vast majority of Tel Aviv properties. The two air conditioners, one upstairs and one downstairs, do have a heating function, but on the handful of cold Tel Aviv days they blow out hot air above my head. I can stand on tiptoe or sit on the stairs to defrost my nose and the upper part of my ears. There’s an additional complication with the upstairs aircon, which was fitted by someone who hadn’t thought it through. To switch from the hot to cold setting and vice versa you have to flick a switch on the outdoor part. This is located in a small space which can only be accessed by climbing over a neighbour’s wall and performing acrobatics. I have to wait for the landlord’s friend to come and do this as it is a mystery to me. Another mystery is who on earth installed the electrics. There’s a fuse box inside the house, new when I moved in and thankfully safe. In the yard is the electric company’s box and below it a metal box containing the meter. The wires enter the box at the side and exit through a hole drilled in the bottom. There was a hole in the bottom, pre-drilled, but the electrician installed it upside down, so it’s sort of DIY sealed with plastic. This means that every time it rains I have to mop out the inside of the box or risk destroying more electronic equipment. Luckily we only have a few rainy days per year. And yet…

I am grateful. I love it here. Really love it. Lucky, aren’t I?

I am grateful. I love it here. Really love it. Lucky, aren’t I? Click To Tweet

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