Exodus - Leon Uris [181]
On Hayarkon Street, right on the sea, Ari checked into Gat Rimon Hotel.
In late afternoon all the shops reopened after the siesta period. Ari and Kitty strolled down Allenby Road. Kitty had to change some currency, purchase a few things, and satisfy a lot of curiosity. Beyond the Mograbi Theater and plaza the road was filled with small shops, the honking and rushing of buses, cars, and people. Kitty had to see every last shop. There were a dozen or more book stores, and she paused to gaze at the cryptic Hebrew letters. They walked and walked, up to Rothschild Boulevard past the main business district. Here was the older town where Tel Aviv had begun as an outgrowth of Jaffa. The closer they came to the Arab city the more run-down the buildings and shops became. Walking along the streets connecting the two cities, Kitty felt as though she were walking back in time. The surroundings grew dirtier and more odorous and the shops grew smaller and shabbier with each step. They circled back to Tel Aviv through a market place common to both Jews and Arabs. The narrow street was a mass of haggling people crowded around the stalls. They returned down the opposite side of Allenby Road, back to the Mograbi plaza and turned into another wide, tree-lined street. This was Ben Yehuda Street and it was filled with sidewalk cafés. Each café had its own distinctive flavor and its own distinctive clientele. There was a café for the gathering of lawyers and there was a café of the socialist politicians and a café of artists and a businessmen’s café. There was a café where fellow travelers of the terrorists hung out and there was a café of old retired folk playing never-ending chess games. All the cafés of Ben Yehuda Street were filled and were bursting with chatter and arguments.
The news hawkers of the tiny, four-page newspapers shouted out in Hebrew of the Maccabee raids on Lydda and the Haifa refinery and of the arrival of the Exodus. There was a steady stream of people flowing by. There were Orientals in mideastern habit and there were well-groomed women in the latest of fashions from a dozen European countries. Mostly, there were native men in khaki pants and white shirts opened at the necks. They wore thin chain necklaces with a Star of David or some Hebrew pendant. Most of them sported the black mustache which was a trademark of the native born. They were a rugged lot. Many were in the blue of a kibbutz with sandaled feet. The native women were tall, angular, and high breasted in plain dresses or slacks or shorts. There was an aggressiveness and pride about them, even in their walk.
Then Ben Yehuda Street became quiet.
It was the same sudden quiet that Kitty remembered from the night before at the restaurant in Haifa.
A British armored sound truck inched down the middle of Ben Yehuda Street. Tight-lipped Tommies manned machine guns on the car.
“ATTENTION ALL JEWS. THE COMMANDING GENERAL HAS ORDERED A CURFEW. ALL JEWS MUST BE OFF THE STREET BY DARK. ATTENTION ALL JEWS. THE COMMANDING GENERAL HAS ORDERED A CURFEW. ALL JEWS MUST BE OFF THE STREET BY DARK.”
A ripple of applause and laughter broke out from the onlookers.
“Watch it, Tommy,” someone called. “The next intersection is mined.”
When the trucks had passed, the scene quickly returned to normal.
“Let’s get back to the hotel,” Kitty said.
“I told you you’ll get so that you won’t be able to live without excitement inside a month.”
‘I’ll never get used to it, Ari.”
They returned to the hotel with their arms filled with Kitty’s purchases. After cocktails in the small quiet bar there was dinner on the terrace overlooking the sea. Kitty could see the sweep of the coast line where the new city of Tel Aviv ran into the ancient city of Jaffa, the oldest port in the world.
“Thank you