Initial Impressions: Hakuk Balev means “inscribed in the heart” and indeed the two showers I took here will remain with me forever. Upon walking into the bathroom, I noticed it was a shoilet. I also noticed it was disgusting. The bathroom was very small and it was evident someone spent a great deal of time making it as useless as possible. There was a complete lack of hooks or shelves. Even the top of the toilet tank—usually a safe bet—was angled to keep from being useful. Alas, this was not my first time at the rodeo:
Looking skyward to the heavens, I noticed a chain dangling from the ceiling:
While useless, it served as a sort of Yad and Shem to a previous to a previous curtain rod. I paused in quiet reflection at the thought of that shower and what had caused its untimely end. Finally, the room included a handy wall toaster, turning an everyday shoilet into a one-of-a-kind shoitchen. If they could find a place to put the bed, you’d never have to leave.
The Experience: Pretty much what you would expect. Everything got wet. The floor, the toilet, the sink, the stack of toilet paper that was practically dry from the previous guest. I soon realized that the wall toaster was there as a (poor) substitute for hot water. The shampoo/conditioner/soap/personal lubricant left an oily residue on my hair and face.
It rained later that night and I came home to the room to see this directly outside the door:
There was a hole in the gutter—no doubt drilled by the staff—directly in front of the room. It was pretty much impossible to enter the room without getting wet. The temperature of this “green” shower was comparable to the one inside, but the pressure was somewhat improved.
Flooding: Flooded, with a vengeance.
They say you can never go home again. That may be true, but you can go back to the same hotel a day later and see essentially the same shower. Same re-enforced glass door, same PHP dispenser, same stalactite-covered shower head. It does not necessitate a full review, but needless to say bravo to M5 for taking a flawed design and flawlessly replicating it down the hall.
Initial Impressions: Ma’ale Hachamisha (aka: High Five) is a sprawling resort kibbutz with as many separate room layouts as letters in its name. This was my first stay in this particular type of room and the shower certainly made an impression. The most obvious feature being the swinging glass door which seemed both awkward and unnecessary. Upon entering the shower I noticed a support brace securing the glass wall:
Now, intentional design of any kind is not a hallmark of Israeli showers. Looking at the brace, I could not help but reflect on the many, many horrible mishaps that occurred to necessitate its installation.
The Experience: The shower would be right at home in any college dorm next to the extra-long/extra-narrow twin bed. The proximity of the re-enforced glass wall meant showering with my arms never leaving my sides. While strange for Americans, this is something all Israelis are used to. (“In de ahmy we don’t use ohw hands”) The water pressure never reached beyond more than a trickle, due mostly from the stalactites on the shower head as a result of the disgusting mineral-rich Jerusalem water.
Flooding: The shower did not flood, as a result of the glass door catching the water. That same door then deposited the accumulated water evenly throughout the middle of the bathroom. Nonetheless, one of the better showers in Israel.
Initial Impressions: I knew from the moment I stepped foot in the room that I was in for a treat. This was a classic Glass Cube, inserted in a room far too small for a Cube. On the right, the door is blocked by the sink and on the left by the toilet. The designer clearly intended for the bather not to take hygiene for granted, but rather to approach the experience with intention, something one rarely sees in modern shower design.
The experience: Given the setup of the doors, there is no way to turn on the shower without pre-flooding the room. There is also not a clear place to put the towel, other than on the toilet or in the sink. I chose the toilet. After closing the shower door, I watched as the spray hit the hinge of the door and passed directly through on its way to the floor. The Personal Hygiene Product was mounted about six feet off the floor, making it possible to apply it directly to the head. It was also closer to hand soap than traditional PHP. This led me to bring in my own back-up bottle of shampoo, although there was no shelf for it. The Glass Cube was far too small to pick it up from the floor, so I was forced to put it on the only available surface—the top of the PHP dispenser. This was thoughtfully curved, ensuring anything placed on top would immediately slide off and not be left behind.
Flooding: The bathroom flooded all three times I used the shower, getting worse each day.
Initial Impressions: This is a fine example of one of the most common setups in Israel. In this design, the shower and toilet area form one complete room, with the only demarcation being the Israeli-made, quasi-waterproof curtain. A friend of mine has dubbed this arrangement the “shoilet,” cleverly combining the words shower and toilet. Her defense, which initially seemed reasonable, was that the shoilet was born out of necessity as a way to maximize limited space (Israel is a small country) by not having to waste square footage with a shower door. However, this bathroom is far bigger than my bathroom at home, which is not a shoilet. So she’s wrong. On the one hand, the shoilet requires that you spend at least three minutes after your shower squeegee-ing the entire room sloshing water toward the drain. As water tends to be clear, you can’t see it and will all but certainly leave a good 2-3 liters waiting for the next person who walks in the room. On the other hand, it forces you to weirdly hang clothing and toiletry bags (this is a hotel after all) all over the room, or pile them in the sink. There really is nothing good to say about the shoilet.
The experience: The water pressure was quite good and the heat was adequate. The shower head fit securely in the receptacle and did not oscillate. There was no way to adjust the angle of the shower head which is common in Israel, probably because Israelis are all exactly the same height. The curtain did not extend all the way to the floor, but really, what’s the point? Come to think of it, what’s the point of a curtain at all?
Flooding: The bathroom flooded, as designed.
