The_Truths_We_Never_Told_KINDLE[26-09-23] by Offer Oren Ofra

Author:Offer Oren, Ofra
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5: Peter

Peter never imagined that the weather in the Middle East could be so wet. If he thought about the climate at all, he pictured sand, dust, camels, palm trees, scorching heat. They probably covered it in the course, he didn’t remember. In any case, everything here was completely different than what he’d been expecting. He wondered where the others had been sent, if they, too, were wandering around strange, forsaken places, or if some of them had gotten more desirable assignments: a jaunt to Paris, an excursion to Rome… he would never know. Anyway, he consoled himself, if he was going to travel, it was better to go somewhere he wouldn’t have chosen on his own.

On the ride from the airport, the taxi passed a few tiny fields that disappeared as soon as he saw them, small, desolate areas, some of which were cultivated, rural settlements, gateways to the cities. At the same time, the road was lined with signs of development: utility poles, powerlines suspended overhead, the well-paved road, the traffic lights. The bumper-to-bumper cars along parts of the road. This looked nothing like the desert.

Tel Aviv was particularly surprising to him. While it didn’t aspire to height, it was completely urban, simple cubes of apartments, almost identical, flat roofs serrated by water heaters, everything pavement, concrete and asphalt. And, everywhere, water: flowing, spraying, flooding the stretches of gray.

The wipers didn’t manage to brush the water off the windshield, and when he stepped out of the taxi, his shoulders hunched against the rain, the driver didn’t even budge, didn’t open the door for him, made no pretense of helping him with his suitcase. He simply said, in halted English, as he screeched to a halt, “It is here. It is the hotel. Ben-Yehudah and Gordon.” When Peter stepped out of the taxi, he forgot to look down, and the water seeped into his shoe, filling it up like a sinking boat, dampening his cold, sticky sock and chilling his foot. That was his introduction to the biggest city in Israel: stepping into a deep, murky puddle.

There was no question in Peter’s mind that the receptionist was Puerto Rican. He had seen girls like her in New York, with long, dark, curly hair, black eyes, red lipstick, and enormous hoop earrings. When she started talking, he was surprised to find that he didn’t recognize her accent.

“What lousy weather you’ve got,” he complained to her as she took a key down from the board and handed it to him.

“I’m sure tomorrow will be nicer, and you’ll be able to walk around. If you need recommendations, we have some brochures for guided tours, including one that takes you to all the holy sites.” She flashed him a questioning look. “Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Nazareth… or the Wailing Wall and Safed? What interests you? Museums? Clubs? We have a lot of cafes around here, too, excellent restaurants… go ahead, take one…”

After he’d gone to his room, showered, and changed his clothes, he pushed aside the curtain and saw the sea crashing with wild waves.

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