Diary of would-be tenants: Two journalists struggle to move to Jerusalem in harsh market

As the one-year anniversary of Oct. 7 comes toward us like a fast train, The Jerusalem Post – like all other media outlets – has been focused on producing meaningful, comprehensive content about the still incomprehensible attacks. Yet everyday concerns continue to loom large.

When it comes to basic needs, having a comfortable, affordable place to live is up at the top. Two twentysomething “deskees” with varying religious needs, who work on the Post’s news desk and are embroiled in this Oct. 7 mission, talk about what it’s like to look for an apartment in today’s Jerusalem – always a difficult, expensive market – against this crackling-with-tension backdrop.

Can you get bang for your buck in a city with the demand of Silicon Valley, and decent supply of apartments the size of Rhode Island?

Shir’s search: Give her a call

If everyone is supposedly fleeing Israel, why can’t I find a place to live?

It’s been weeks since I decided it’s time to get my own place, and yet, here I am in my parents’ basement.

Going from an upper-class small-town life to the lower middle class of Jerusalem isn’t easy. The things I used to take for granted – like a bed that isn’t in a kitchen – are suddenly luxuries I can only dream of.

I don’t want much. At least, I don’t think I want much.

I’m a religious girl in my 20s, who’d like to live with other religious girls in their 20s. I’d like my own room, one that isn’t also a living room or a bathroom, and bonus points if I can bring a cat, or at least a plant.

And, if possible, I’d like to afford some food at the end of the month, but I’m willing to compromise for the starving artist aesthetic.

Over the course of a week I planned to look at five places, all of which met my meager standards, all within my meager price range. 

Except, they weren’t.

On my way to the first viewing, I double-checked the listing to make sure I had the right address, and, rereading the information, I saw, in the smallest font humanly possible, “Total monthly cost – NIS 6,000.” How did we get here, when the official price listed was NIS 2,200?

So I walked right past the building to the ice cream parlor down the road.

The next day, I decided to look for any hidden fees before leaving the house, and, lo and behold, suddenly that NIS 1,900 room was NIS 5,400. 

Why?

“Well, you see, it has a balcony,” they told me.

The third and fourth were both on the same street, right by the shuk, so I figured I’d hit them both up on the same day. The third had seven (!) roommates, including – shudder! – boys, so my family never even let me go to the viewing.

The fourth had seemed perfect. A two-bedroom, each with its own beautifully tiled bathroom, fully kosher, in-house laundry, the whole package.

I arrived full of hope, only to be greeted by four girls. At first, I thought three must be my competition, but no. There were four girls living in this place, and they wanted to add two more into the mix.

“The listing said two bedrooms,” I texted the landlord after all but running from the world’s briefest open house. 

He replied with a shrug emoji, and then told me he had a studio, if I was interested – NIS 5,800.

So, if you happen to be one of the many who are supposedly moving away from Israel to avoid the war and you’ll be leaving behind an empty one-bedroom for less than the price of a human soul, give me a call.

Please. 

Yuval’s search: SS/SK

The four letters that are the bane of my apartment-hunting experience: SS/SK.

I don’t keep kosher or Shabbat, and I don’t intend to. But if I want to find a reasonable place, it seems unavoidable. Every location with reasonable rent is almost invariably Shomer Shabbat/Shomer Kashrut. 

I open the roommate-search groups and scroll through endless posts of requests. With so many having SS/SK, I am already limited in my choices.

Then I think about costs, and I am limited further.

But I persevere nonetheless; you don’t find a place feeling sorry for yourself.

I’ve not mentioned one factor – gender. 

Women are far more likely to want to have single-gender house-shares, even if they aren’t religious. Male-only house-shares tend to be exclusively religious.

So before I even begin, the vast majority of apartments in Jerusalem are unavailable to me. I feel like I’m starting from a place of great disadvantage.

Think how many places you discount for one reason or another when looking for yourself.

Then begins the trudge through the forever-changing housing market. I must remember the list of wants and needs, and the ever-present SS/SK.

I become all the more depressed as I put on the meeting-new-people face multiple times a day.

The forced social interactions are more draining than running about the city –  the attempts to suss out whether you are a good match as roommates, small questions and subtle coaxes here and there. It often feels very much like a first date, but the person on the other end can be persons, and they can all want different things.

I could always take a studio. It costs more, but I get it my way. But you quickly learn that studios almost always come with a catch: loud neighbor, no sunlight, terrible landlord.

In the end you’re forced to make compromises to find somewhere, whether it’s on bills, location, roommates, or the ever-present SS/SK.

AS WE enter 5785, among our deeply felt prayers for peace and safety in our homeland, we pray that everyone finds a place to call home in Jerusalem.