Last weekend, I was sitting in my aunt and uncle’s living room in Ra’anana, when I received an e-mail from El Al. After the airline had canceled my flight back to the Netherlands due to the war, they were offering me an alternative flight on March 10th. By now, I am back in the Netherlands, yet the war still rages and it is uncertain whether the Iranian theocracy will fall.

My second week in Israel was spent with family. In Ra’anana, a relatively quiet but very nice environment – especially, if you want to raise a family – the missile alerts did not stop, of course; the warnings continued with regular frequency. There is no pattern to discern either, as the Iranian theocracy tries to launch whenever it can, while Israel and the United States keep bombing hundreds of targets in Iran, in a bid to reduce the number of missiles and drones fired. The safe room becomes a familiar place, a location where I, my aunt, and uncle would spend much time. We could walk towards the safe room during the day, in the evening or meet each other there at night. While there, a dose of gallows humor was often applied as we waited for signals on our phones telling us that we could exit safely. While we as adults could deal with this situation in such a way, it is much more difficult for small children.

My aunt and uncle have three children, a son and two daughters. The latter two have small children of their own, my male cousin’s children are much older – his son is already serving in the military. In the case of my female cousins the mental toll of alerts and sirens was best visible in two of their children, both around the age of four years old. People always speak of the mental strength of children, pointing to the fact that children can instantly distract themselves from difficult situations, for instance by playing with toys. And yet, even though my cousins’ children are very resilient and usually laugh and run around when they are together, the fear that grips them should not be underestimated.

For example, a little girl, the middle child of my youngest cousin, once sat in a safe room and cried nonstop for twenty minutes; the child of my other cousin, a boy, refused to leave the house for the first few days of the war, because he wanted to be near the safe room. His parents could not convince him to go elsewhere, such as visit his grandparents. Though I have seen them on many occasions and they always laugh and play with each other when the entire family gathers, it still shows how terrifying the daily reality of this war can be for small children. Their parents do whatever they can to make the situation seem as normal as possible. They watch television with them, avoid the news, and have their children sleep in the safe room at night. The last method seems very effective, as they told me that the children are not bothered by sirens and even sleep through them, when they are there. My humble contribution was to buy them gifts, small attempts at distracting them from the war, if only for a few minutes.

While remaining in Ra’anana and occasionally venturing into Kfar Saba where my cousins live, I did return to Tel Aviv one more time. The reason was an Israeli friend of mine who runs a group of volunteers in Tel Aviv that provides aid for families in need. She created a WhatsApp group to organize efforts and regularly added items that were scarce and valued. So, I decided to bring her several blankets and boarded a bus to Tel Aviv.

My friend is typically Israeli and then some: direct, loud, and energetic. She is someone who knows how to organize and get things done. That is perhaps her greatest quality, aside from the fact that she has a heart of gold.

It did not surprise me that she was immediately involved in aid efforts, she had done this during the war with Hamas and in June 2025, during the war with Iran. She asked me to drop the blankets off in Dizengoff Center’s parking garage. During this journey to Tel Aviv, barrages were fired at Israel again. So, sirens started wailing before I boarded the bus to Tel Aviv from Ra’anana; halfway through, the bus driver ordered us off the bus on the highway, because reports were coming in of debris striking locations in the Tel Aviv area; after it was deemed safe, we continued our travels.

When I arrived at Dizengoff Center – a shopping mall, for those who do not know – directions to the parking garage which doubles as a safe area were applied in the shape of yellow arrows on the floor. Eventually, I reached the fourth level of the parking garage, deep underground. And here, I was confronted with another reality of war.

The fourth level of the parking garage is dotted with tents; every parking space is occupied by one. My friend was somewhere else and when I walked around, a woman was making a report about the situation. She told me that the parking garage was providing shelter to the homeless, a number of foreign laborers, and residents of the city who lacked safe rooms or were too afraid to remain above ground. Indeed, I even spotted families with children.

As I continued towards the free tea and coffee stand my friend had set up, the blankets were accepted by another volunteer. I texted her that I had dropped them off and asked, if she was en route. She was still tied up somewhere else, so I decided to take the bus back to Ra’anana, as it was getting late. I am sure that we will meet again in the future.

My last day, I spent with family. In the afternoon, my aunt and I decided to have coffee in one of the city’s new neighborhoods, a nice place with several amenities. As we were talking, alerts appeared on our phones, followed by sirens. The café’s employees guided us to their basement. As we stood there, we could hear the booms above. But this time, there were many.

As was recently reported, half the missiles used by the Iranian theocracy are ballistic missiles of the cluster bomb variety. From the start of this war, the regime has made clear that it simply wishes to target Israeli population centers. And these cluster missiles are more difficult to intercept. The warhead disintegrates into multiple smaller bombs, which fall down across a wide area. On some occasions, they do not explode upon impact, causing the authorities to warn people not to pick them up, when they find them. Therefore, Iron Dome launches many more interceptors in a short space of time, in a bid to eliminate all of them. The payload of these bombs is smaller, but lethal nonetheless.

When it comes to the other ballistic missiles, one or two interceptor missiles usually suffice. However, once intercepted, the debris that comes down can still cause considerable damage. The word “debris,” in fact, is somewhat misleading as parts of a ballistic missile can be several meters long, even the length of a bus. Much damage has been caused by the remnants of these missiles and, again, this can be lethal, too. It is why it is important to find the nearest safe area and remain there, until the authorities tell you that it is possible to exit.

Returning to the café’s basement, the booms we heard were interceptors engaging one of these cluster missiles. I would compare it to rapid thunderclaps, succeeding each other. One, two, three, six booms in quick succession. And, as is common in Israel, people went about their business again, after it was safe to leave the basement.

Later that day, it happened again. We were sitting on the balcony of my aunt and uncle’s apartment, when alerts appeared on our phones. This time, however, no warning was issued for the Ra’anana area, so we remained seated. Then, we could hear faint sirens to the south, and Israel’s aerial defense systems were activated again. Now, we heard even more booms, close to fifteen in several areas. While the high rate of interception is a marvel of Israeli technology and shows how far the state is prepared to go to ensure the safety of its citizens from missile barrages, that moment showed how vulnerable Israel is. Afterwards, we would learn that missiles had struck Ramla; and earlier in the day, a missile struck Yehud, claiming two lives.

As I sit here now, writing in the Netherlands, there are no booms, no sirens. It is calm, as I look outside my window and can only hear the sound of a car driving by and the occasional banging of yet another person renovating an apartment – truly, this endless tearing down of walls, kitchens, and bathrooms never ends. I think of something my youngest cousin’s husband said a few days ago, as he sighed and expressed how difficult life in Israel could be. He was referring to the threat of terror attacks and war, which to him were rather normal. After all, his generation grew up during the Second Intifada. But his sigh said much, as Israelis have adjusted to an abnormal situation, by considering it the normal way.

As I look at my family and the time I have spent with them, I noticed the common Israeli resilience, the wit used to make light of a difficult situation, and the determination to proceed with regular routines, whether that means going out for coffee, having Shabbat dinners or exercising. But despite the difficult reality of war, something happened that surprised my family.

It occurred when we were watching television after a missile barrage and a reporter was interviewing a young American Jewish woman in a safe area. She asked her how she felt and the woman smiled and said that she felt safe. It surprised the reporter and stunned my family. The woman explained how life for her in the United States had been, suffering from antisemitism and the hatred that has spilled out into the open. Contrasted with that, she enjoyed life in Israel, despite the lethal threat of war. As we discussed this, I told my family that her feelings were not abnormal. In fact, all the American Jewish volunteers I have met in Israel shared similar stories.

I am not saying this, because life in Europe is supposedly better – it most certainly is not and, as of now, Jewish sites have been targeted in the Netherlands over the last few days, with one attack proudly being claimed by a group of Islamic extremists. But many volunteers I have met over the past two years were American, coming from a country that was usually considered the best place outside of Israel to be Jewish – some would even argue better. Yet many of these people shared difficult experiences and some even broke down in tears at some point, explaining the hostility experienced on campuses or supposed friends ostracizing them overnight, after October 7th. So, for me, this woman was not an anomaly at all. And what makes it even more disturbing is that Diaspora Jews who feel safer and more comfortable in Israel, whether they come from North America or Europe, did not grow up in dictatorships; instead, they come from Western democracies.

The Iranian theocracy is invested in making sure that its regime survives. The preposterous claims of regime officials that they are “defending Iranians” is insulting, considering the fact that they slaughtered thousands of their fellow Iranians in January 2026. Moreover, defending Iranians, apparently, also means targeting Gulf states relentlessly – especially the United Arab Emirates. They have built a system that does not benefit all Iranians. Rather, it is a system of oppression that targets minorities especially, but is willing to subject Muslims to hardship as well. In addition, corruption is not an exception and its kleptocratic tendencies recently came to the fore when the Daily Mail reported that Mojtaba Khamenei owns several properties in the United Kingdom. The fall of the Iranian theocracy would be welcomed by many Iranians, especially in the diaspora. Yet, in the West, there are the common examples of loyal far-left and far-right foot soldiers – most of them not even Iranian – doing the theocracy’s bidding and even mourning Ali Khamenei. The fact that people living in democracies would use their freedom to support a dictatorship must be considered a fallacy of tremendous proportions.

By now, it is unclear if the Iranian theocracy will fall. But the daily reality of war means that the cost must be worth it. As Hezbollah keeps pounding northern communities and Israelis there have mere seconds to get to safety once sirens start to wail, such hardship cannot be repeated again a few months from now. And if the regime remains, another aerial campaign seems likely to prevent it from regaining its capabilities; the threat to the Gulf will remain; Tehran and its proxies could once again use their power to close the Strait of Hormuz or the Bab al-Mandab in the future; and the regime will probably turn on its own people more severely.

Because of all of this uncertainty, I simply hope for the following: I wish that my family and friends in Israel will remain safe; that Israeli pilots will keep returning safely and that soldiers in Lebanon can return home soon; that the men and women of the US Armed Forces will be able to return home soon as well; that Iranians will see the fall of the regime sooner, rather than later; and that all of Israel will see better days.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)