In Israel, he says, people are accustomed to the distant sounds of rocket interceptions. “But with that kind of sound, there is no shadow of a doubt it’s impact and [that] it’s close,” he said. The force of the explosion shook his apartment violently. “My bed flew against the wall a few centimetres,” he said. “My initial thought was: I’m not dead.”
When he ran outside moments later, the streets were eerily empty as most residents remained in bomb shelters. Acting on instinct, Ayes ran toward the impact site before emergency services arrived.
“There was a crater in the road,” he said. “It was very chaotic and full of debris, so the closer to the hit site I got, the slower I had to go.”
Within minutes, authorities began coordinating assistance for residents. “In about 20 minutes the city hall was messaging and organising us,” he said.
Initially, he continued to live in his apartment despite the extensive damage. The blast had blown out the windows, leaving broken glass scattered across the floor.
“It’s such a weird feeling to be without windows,” he said. His apartment is in one of the city’s older buildings and does not have its own shelter. After two days, he packed a few essentials and moved to the hotel.
“Being in a hotel helps,” he said. “You have time to process what you’ve been through.”
The experience has stirred memories from his childhood in Israel, when waves of suicide bombings were part of daily life. “When I was a kid there were terror attacks all the time,” he said. “You were almost expecting [an atrocity like] the Purim bus bombings before we’d start to celebrate.”
But even for Israelis accustomed to security threats, the scale of destruction from Iran’s missiles is something new.
Every day the hotel’s new residents gather in the hotel shelter as sirens sound across the city. “It’s a crazy reality show,” he said. “But people are really coming together and supporting each other.”
Orel Levi, 28, experienced the blast from a missile landing 100 metres away while he was inside his bedroom watching the film Pretty Woman.
Orel Levi[Missing Credit]
“It had been a hard day with many sirens, and I was exhausted,” he said. Then everything changed in seconds.
“There was a huge noise and suddenly I saw an orange light from the fire,” he recalled. “I immediately covered myself with the blanket.”
Moments later the apartment filled with plumes of dust.
“After a few seconds everything was broken, books, glass, everything.”
When he ran outside toward a shelter, the street was covered in shattered glass.
“I was sure I had died and that it was the end of the story,” he said. “I couldn’t believe what was happening.”
At first he struggled to comprehend the scale of the attack.
“I realised it must have been big if this happened to me from that distance.”
Levi managed to retrieve a few belongings, his computer and some clothes, but most of his possessions remain inside the damaged apartment building.
Authorities have told residents it could take weeks before they are allowed to return.
“I can’t remember much because of the shock,” he said quietly. “But I realised how much luck I have.”
For Adam Babayoff, 36, the moment of realisation of what exactly was happening came from a sound he had not heard before.
“I was in the shelter next door and I heard the booms like regular booms,” he said. Israelis are familiar with the dull thuds of rocket interceptions overhead. But then he heard something different.
“I heard glass,” he said. “That told me it was bad.” The shelter shook, though at first he had assumed it was just another interception. “The booms all feel the same until they don’t,” he said.
Adam Babayoff[Missing Credit]
His apartment sits just 100 metres from the site of this blast. When he walked upstairs afterwards, he hoped the damage would be limited. Instead, he found shattered windows and destroyed electronics.
“There was glass everywhere,” he said. “My Xbox, TV, computer, everything was busted.” The shockwave had blown out windows on both sides of the apartment.
Still shaken, he called his father. “He told me: grab your passport and anything important,” so he took a few pictures and his laptop.
Now living at the hotel alongside 160 other evacuees, he says the shared experience has helped. “Being with other people means I sleep better than at home,” he said.
Residents gather in the evenings, sometimes sharing meals together as they wait for news about their homes. “We’re having Shabbat dinner tonight,” he said. “Some people are neighbours but many I don’t know too.”
Across Israel, authorities are scrambling to house residents displaced by missile strikes. According to the Ministry of Tourism, the evacuees have been placed in roughly 950 rooms.
“This is a complex and sensitive national mission,” said Michael Izhakov, director general of the Tourism Ministry. “We are operating around the clock to provide a swift and professional response both to tourists seeking to depart Israel and to evacuees in need of accommodation.”
Back at the Bobo Hotel, life continues in a strange limbo. Residents are trying to maintain some sense of routine while waiting to see what remains of their homes. On Friday night, the community gathered to toast “life” but tempers were fraying. Grudges between neighbours erupted into rows. The tension that the uncertainty of yet another war brings was hard to hide.
But there is also solidarity. “We’re all in this together right now,” Babayoff said. “That makes a big difference.”
