A British Mandate Palestine-themed hotel

 and Hannah Senesh’s Song of the SEA

In 1943 Hungarian born Israeli heroine Hannah Senesh wrote the poem Eli, Eli (destined to become almost an anthem of Israeli and Diaspora Jews. A member of Kibbutz Sdot Yam, Senesh joined the pre-state paramilitary Haganah the same year she wrote the famous poem, and then enlisted in the British Woman’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) where she was trained as a paratrooper.

The powerful words of Senesh’s poem, her love of the glimmering sea, sand and sky, were transformed into reality during a recent overnight stay in the British Mandate Palestine-themed Herods Hotel in Tel Aviv. Staying on the 15^th floor with a glorious view over the famous Gordon swimming pool, Tel Aviv marina and long stretch of coastline toward Herzliya, this particular room was dedicated to Hannah Senesh. A large sepia photograph of her in British Army uniform hung on the wall at the side of my bed. The bedside table was a trunk, in keeping with the times – those times. Hanging on another wall was a round brown clock with Roman numerals, a faded picture of horse- drawn carts in the center of the clock face, and ornate small and big hands, showing the time today in an old fashioned setting.

Nostalgia of another kind is instant upon entering Herods even before passing through the front doors, as standing to welcome guests is a uniformed doorman who looks like he has just stepped out of British-ruled Palestine – khaki shirt and shorts and impressive pith helmet perched on his head. Doorman Gideon Hirsh is truly the real McCoy, taking into consideration that he is a British immigrant from North London!

Gideon made aliyah with his parents in 1972, but later spent 10 years living in London and working in hi-tech before returning to Israel in his mid-30s and deciding to study. With a BA in Government Studies from the Herzliya Interdisciplinary Center and an MA in Media and Politics from Tel Aviv University, Gideon, although so much the British gentleman of modern and past times, doesn’t fit the description of most folks who are found greeting guests on the hotel steps.

“It’s no secret that good jobs are hard to come by in Israel these days. I decided I wanted to work in tourism and heard about this job available at Herods, and it seemed a good way to get to know the industry as one should … from bottom, hopefully, to top,” explained Gideon, who, although he had addressed me in Hebrew upon my arrival, had a distinct British accent, easily spotted, which prompted me to ask him where he was from.

The lobby of Herods depicts a typical Tel Aviv street leading down to the seafront. Artificial ficus trees on either side and huge windows at the end give one the feeling that it is possible to walk straight out to sea, sand and sky with no limit. The pavement flooring is interspersed with decorative tiles that are still found in many of the old buildings of Tel Aviv and Jaffa. In corners and alcoves, figures dressed in clothing of less modern times give it all a very authentic air, even if they are not real like Gideon the doorman. Corridors full of black and white photographs of the streets, places and people of the first Hebrew city are fascinating and one feels the spirit of those times emanating from the walls. The style of life brought to the city, (which gained municipal status in 1934), by the European immigrants is so apparent in the eye-catching Bauhaus style buildings and boulevards, cafés and small neighborhood parks and corner street kiosks selling soft drinks.

The crowning glory is definitely the large, elongated dining-room designed to give the impression that one is dining in a traditional Tel Aviv courtyard, at a time when everybody knew everybody – and knew their business too! Running the length of the dining room, with tables laid out in between, are two rows of citrus trees and a wall-sized black and white photograph of a heavily laden orchard, but the fruit itself is bright orange. The latter is most effective in creating a “blast from the past” atmosphere with breakfast. One can almost see and hear the new and old immigrant workers climbing down wooden ladders with overflowing baskets of fruit strapped to their sides, the wooden ladders and the workers' backs creaking in unison under the heavy load.

Sitting on the veranda on the 15^th floor of Herods, looking in one direction across the rooftops and bustling streets of modern day Tel Aviv below, and, with a slight turn of the head, across the recently renovated Gordon Pool and marina and way out to sea where flocks of gulls, paragliding enthusiasts and surfers were “strutting their stuff”, I felt Hannah Senesh looking down upon me from behind. There was really no way that I could not sing Eli, Eli, the the Song of the Sea” written by Hannah in 1943 whilst living a short distance up the glorious Israeli coastline, three years before I was born, but as meaningful today as it was then.

SONG OF THE SEA

Eli, Eli, she loh yigamer le'olam

Hachol vehayam

Rishroosh shel hamayim

Barak hashamayim

Tfilat ha'adam.

My Lord, my Lord, let it never end

The sand and the sea

The water’s whisper

The sky’s glitter

Man’s prayer