The quiet beach is not quiet
The quiet beach is my favorite beach in Haifa.
The quiet beach? The calm beach? The safe beach? is that so?
In the mornings on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, mother used to pack an orange plastic basket, with grapes and peaches from Talpiot market and a change of clothes. Mom sets an alarm clock and at half past five in the morning we go to the beach, Mom, Muti, my brother and I.
Great excitement, every time.
Beetle 57 in light blue with a convertible roof
My mother, a "robber driver", drives a light blue 57 Beetle with a convertible. Knows the shortcuts well, arrives and parks quickly. We present an entry card to the beach and place the clothes for safekeeping in the wardrobes.
Muti, my brother and I storm into building dance palaces. A whole city, tunnels connecting them.
Too much, my aunt, makes us a lot of noise with her sweets.
Not a single ball falls into the sand for her. Tk tk tk tk, loud loud makes us so noisy that we don't hear the crash of the high waves.
So every week.
One evening father informs me: "Hannah, you will soon be six years old, I will start teaching you to swim." Just like I taught mother.'
Dad joined us on the trip to the sea, he entered the water with me little by little, how coolrrrrrrrr in the morning.
Dad put me in his arms. Father had very strong arms, I touched his hands, I always felt something stiff, a bit like iron. I remember my smile when I manage to let go of dad and ride his hands with confidence. I really wasn't afraid. I don't see him, I see the clear blue water.
I held him, for a moment I swayed, my heart started pounding hard...
"Don't be afraid Hannah, I'm here, you won't fall into the water," said father.
"Make movements with your hands", and demonstrate to me
"And so with the legs", here too the fish.
I tried.
I actually succeeded.
I make movements and rest on dad's arms.
Suddenly... I feel Dad remove one arm and then the other... and I start to swim.
I was scared.
I made a few movements and... lowered my legs, touched the soft, wet sand below.
"Good! You swam a few meters," said father.
"How beautiful" he said with a radiant and happy smile.
A raft swings in the middle of the sea
Let's try again.
And that's how I learned to swim.
I really liked being at sea with dad.
We entered the deep water.
We went up 3 steps to the wooden bridge, walked carefully and reached the steps that lead us to the deep water.
One two and three…. I bravely entered the cold water.
Dad and I started swimming towards the raft.
Dad taught me to get on the raft. One wooden step in the water, holding the raft, taking a swing and...
rise up Place one knee on the raft, support your palms and again... rise up.
I tried once and fell back into the water. I tried one more time, dad supported me from behind and... I succeeded.
What a wonderful sight it was from there.
A raft sways in the middle of the sea and we rest in front of the Carmel.
The beautiful beach in front of us, above it Haifa which I loved and at the edge of the mountain, right at the edge, the scaffolding of a new building.
"That's where the university will be," father explained to me.
I had some revelations from this place.
We rested for a while, and started to return back to the beach.
Moments I really liked.
I don't know a father with a face like that
Friday is here again. Dad came back from work and told us: "We're going to the beach, we'll swim a bit and come home for dinner." The beach closes at five o'clock. We will have enough.'
We packed a plastic box into the orange plastic basket and hurried to the sea.
Muti, me and mom stayed on the beach.
Dad went in for a longer swim before taking me into the water.
From the beach, I see Dad approaching us.
"Is he coming back so soon?" I pondered.
I took my hand out of the sand castle I had built, stood up and approached.
I see his face contorted in pain.
I see his expression. I don't know my father with a face like that.
My heart is beating hard, I'm scared.
I enter the water, slip on the green grass, on the green that almost makes me vomit.
straightens up, and manages to take a small step.
"Dad, what happened to you?" reading out loud. Hope he hears me with the sound of the waves breaking next to me, in the background.
"father?"
The heart pounded and pounded
I'm getting closer to dad. Father, in a very quiet voice, says: "I entered the water, I felt a stab and then, a stronger pain. I stopped, stood on one leg and pulled him out."
"What are you? Dad?" I asked.
A wave of pain passes through his face and he answers: "The song."
"What are you?" I did not understand.
"A nail", he explains with a pained face that slightly distorted the word.
I managed to grab hold of dad, hold his huge hand and together we moved towards the beach.
"Dad, there's a first aid station here. Let's go in."
"No, no need, I took the nail out myself." I will explain father
"I don't agree father, you're lame" I said decisively.
I was afraid to look at the wound and led father to the entrance of the wooden structure.
Mom and Muti came right away.
I heard Dad say that he stepped on a rusty nail and that he pulled it out himself.
My heart was pounding and pounding,
My father is the strongest and healthiest in the world, what do we do for him?
Dad came out of the medics' room.
They sewed a few stitches in his foot, he had difficulty walking.
Mom drove back home
Friday dinner was a bit sad.
Dad recovered quickly, returned to driving, we went back to the beach and swam together.
The quiet beach has changed its face
Years passed,
The quiet beach has changed its face.
A spectacular promenade was built in its continuation.
On Rosh Hashanah, the beach is filled with many people. Secular and religious for Tishlik prayer and in general, for moments of gathering and peace.
But I, when I looked from the first floor of the hematology department at Rambam Hospital, connected to the medicine column, this is the image that came to my mind every time I watched the Pacific Coast.
A lame father surrounded by strong waves.
The beach is not quiet, our quiet beach.
I will always have this image.
As soon as I saw the picture I remembered the smell of the Pacific coast. Mixing the fried pepper at the entrance, the salt and green zipzip. I loved the Pacific Coast.
I really enjoyed reading! Thanks
Thank you. Destined for joy.
A great article full of nostalgia. I lived in Bat Galim and every Friday we would go to the beach with a basket of food from my parents and siblings
You are amazing Hannah. In your writing, you immediately succeed in bringing me into your world. Wow, how I loved the quiet beach, until one time when I tried to get to the raft with my brother we were surrounded by jellyfish. We got to the raft and I don't remember how we got back to the beach in the end. We left anyway with a lot of burns.
The jellyfish were also a chapter chapter.
They didn't know what was useful. Tried all the natural ones…. Ice, vinegar, rinsing...
In the meantime, a smart and sophisticated generation of jellyfish arose.
Hana, how many memories you flooded me with your personal stories that seem to be a little bit of mine too... childhood, a basket full of fruit, castles in the sand, swimming lessons, swimming in rafts and watching the city from them, youth and much more and much more and we are from the same creative house...
Thank you, I really liked it
How we didn't miss any opportunity
Direct bus to the beach, three times a week.
This bridge that shortened the slide on the bottom of greenish algae, smelly and slippery... The permanent shed so that those who need it know where we are...
(There were hardly any phones at home...so we arrange meetings on the street corner)
I really, really enjoyed following the nostalgic and exciting story, a picture of the family conduct of the past. Everything is slower and more significant. Hope for your speedy health because people like you are badly needed in this changing world.
thank you Uncle.
Happy New Year
Wow
Nostalgia
There were quiet beach days
There is not and will not be a special atmosphere
Right.
The "regulars" of the Pacific Coast.
The "regulars" of five in the morning.
A real pleasure
Nostalgia, the quiet beach, swimming to the rafts, learning to swim by your father are indeed moving experiences and quite familiar to me, thank you for a wonderful article.
Thank you Ronit
The beach where I grew up. I lived 2 steps from Mambam and the lovely beach. I even remember that they built the breakwater. And the amazing rafts, I would spend hours there. I loved the strange feeling
Go down the steps of the bridge and swim to the rafts.
to arrive and find that there is a free place to sit and rest.
Were these also moments of privilege?
There will always be a picture... Fascinating writing Hannah. The descriptions are so tangible and picturesque, bringing up memories and sights of the past. Closing a circle into Yossi's photos.
Haifa of old.
Every corner and its memory.
The Pacific Coast was a focal point of regular recreation. Several times a week.
Hi Hana, I'm Nirit's mother, and I enjoyed reading your article, it brought back memories of the past.. we went by bus to the pool in Bat Galim near the casino.. and later to the legendary quiet beach. Thank you for a fascinating piece of writing that brought me back in time. Happy New Year and a good signing.
Thanks. Haifa of old.
fragrances
tastes
mirrors
that I try to pass on to my grandchildren.
I eagerly read every word
Reminded me of childhood memories
As a childhood friend of Hana's, I know for sure how talented she is in writing music, and to my delight, she is getting better over the years.
Remember the attack on the raft?