buying furniture in israel: Ikea for dummies
The other day I went to Netanya with my friends Elisabeth and Alessia to buy some furniture at Ikea. Now Ikea is a bit like McDonalds. You can go anywhere in the world and it will look exactly the same wherever you go. I don't know what I was expecting exactly, but maybe instead of the "Svenska" bedside table or the "Kumpfnot" cutlery range, I thought there might be a little localisation going on here in Israel. Perhaps I was expecting to see the "Yehonatan" sofa or the "Galil" cheese grater. Nope. Unpronounceable Swedish furniture reigns supreme here in Israel. For the life of me though, I have no idea how the Israelis cope with the pronunciation! They have enough trouble with my Anglo-Saxon sounding surname!
And one thing I have always wanted to know was where heck do all those Swedish books that they use to fill the display bookcases come from? Am I the only one who has ever stopped to browse through those weird books?
Now I realise that the whole ethos behind Ikea is that it's the self-service of furniture buying. You walk through the pretty little mock rooms, taking mental notes for your own interior decorating, you sit in every armchair, and check out the mattress on every bed because... well just because. That's part of the whole Ikea shopping experience.
You can even have Swedish meatballs for lunch (we did).
Ok. So I was a woman with a mission. I had to find a good sofa that a) I could afford b) looked nice and c) was comfortable enough to sleep on for possibly up to two months while I wait for my container to arrive from Australia.
Amazingly, I found a sofa that met all three criteria and although I know that Pink Sofa would be heartbroken if she found out, New Sofa is actually way, way more comfy. New Sofa is pristine and white and super fluffy (again, pick the single, childless woman. What woman with kids in her right mind would buy a white sofa?) The good thing is that New Sofa comes with a fully removable cover, so I see it as a good investment for the future should my marital or child status alter, I can always re-cover New Sofa with a more sensible, stain-resistant cover (plastic?)
Ok. So with my main mission accomplished, I was free to roam through Ikea to oooh and aaahhh at all the pretty little householdy things that I covet, but cannot have right now. I did, however purchase a bookshelf and matching CD tower which were pretty cheap and bought a bunch of very reasonably priced kitchenware that will tide me over quite comfortably until my lift arrives. I only bought stuff I have not got coming in the container, so it's not like I am doubling up on things. Ok, now I am sounding like one of those women who feels the need to justify all their purchases. "But honey, it was half price!" Oi vey already.
Right. So with my shopping list all ticked off, it was time to go to the checkout counter. Now, I will sidetrack for one second: in Australia, when you purchase a large item of furniture like a THREE SEATER SOFA, you simply write all the item information down and take that to the cashier and they process the order from that. You don't actually physically see your furniture until it gets delivered.
Ohhhhhhhhh noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. Not in Israel's Ikea. No sirrrreee! So, here's the deal.
1. The kitchen stuff I bought that fit into a trolley was put through the counter and paid for normally.
2. The bookcase and CD tower (flat packed in a cardboard box but really, really heavy!) I bought had to be physically picked up from the adjoining warehouse (ok, we got a cute Israeli boy to help us lift it onto the trolley) and then scanned with the barcode scannery thing. Not so hard.
3. The sofa, it turned out, had to be ordered upstairs in the sofa department itself. They would give me a piece of paper which printed out my order, but I couldn't pay there. I had to then take the piece of paper to another woman somewhere else on the floor who takes your payment and gives you a second piece of paper. Then this lady tells me that I will have to wait up to 60 minutes for the order to somehow make its way downstairs to the warehouse.
"What?" I asked. "60 minutes? But you process everything on a central database. How can it take 6o minutes to make its way downstairs? Does the little order form sprout legs, and walk downstairs while making a detour through Stockholm?"
The clerk looked at me with a vacant expression. This, clearly, was not her concern. "Next" she yelled.
So the three of us traipse downstairs once again and take the new piece of paper to another clerk at the entrance to the warehouse. We're told that they will call me when it is ready. "When what's ready?" I ask. "The sofa" comes the reply.
"But why are you bringing out the sofa? I need to have it delivered."
"Yes. I know. But you must take the sofa first to the delivery desk."
"You mean literally take the sofa all of 5 metres to another clerk?"
"Yes."
"Are you mad?"
Smile.
Fast forward 20 minutes.
"Tanya? Ha sapa shelach" (translation: "Tanya. Your sofa.")
So. Picture this: 3 girls. 3 massive trolleys. We maneuver ourselves to the delivery desk and I tell them I want them to deliver the lot.
"We can't deliver anything in bags. Only boxes and furniture." "But I don't have a car! I live in Jerusalem!" This kitchen stuff weighs a ton!" "Slicha (sorry) but you must to take it with you. We cannot deliver it."
(5 more minutes of please, buts and minor begging got me nowhere).
Finally, the order was complete. I was paid up. Delivery was sorted out and Elisabeth, Alessia and I each took a massive great Ikea carry bag and managed somehow to get back to the bus station in Tel Aviv (via taxi to the train station and then the train from Netanya to Tel Aviv). The girls helped me as far as the Jerusalem bus where I put everything in the hold below.
I spent most of the one hour ride back to Jerusalem stressing about how I was going to navigate my way through the hoards of crowds trying to make their way through security at the Central Bus Station. I knew they would ALL hate me - the girl with all the bloody bags holding up the line. Oh joy.
I am the last one off the bus. I grab all my bags from underneath the bus and the bus driver took one look at me and laughed. "What are you moving house or something? How are you going to manage all that?" "I need to get a cab" I reply.
"Don't move sweetie. Stay there. I will order a cab for you."
Five minutes later, a cab pulls into the station, which normally never happens for security reasons, and the driver got out and put all my bags in the boot for me. I got dropped right outside my front door and all I ended up having to do is get them up one flight of stairs to my room.
So. After all that, what did I learn?
- Well, as usual in Israel - if you think you need 3 hours to do something, set aside about 7.
- Israel loves its bureaucracy, but even more than that, Israelis love to bitch about it (it gives them something to do).
- Keep a cool head. Try not to get stressed (it gets you nowhere here!) and just know that in the end it will probably all work out (exactly how, I am not so sure!)
My lovely new sofa and bookcase/CD tower got delivered today to my lovely new apartment (that I can't move into for two more weeks!) because the current tenant still has to move out. It's fine though because I have a good friend I can stay with for a couple of weeks. When it is time to move in, I am going to have to enlist the help of a rocket scientist to help me assemble the damn things.
So. My lease is signed, the city municipality already have me on their system so I can start paying taxes (oh yippee!) and slowly slowly, I am becoming a real, bona fide Israeli.
I think it's almost time to pop the bubbly.
4:22 pm
Sofas are essential to life as we know it.
Frazier’s brother Niles had a Victorian fainting couch and one of the two had a couch from Coco Channel’s Paris apartment.
I suppose that only goes to show that there are various levels of sofaness.
I can see the possibility of a novel or a film of the stages of a life based on sofa ownership. I think you can see where the Ikea one fits in. top