Life in Israel unfolds between air raid sirens and runs to bomb shelters, and unexpected moments of joy and creativity sometimes emerge precisely in places meant only for protection from missiles. That is exactly what happened this week in Florentin.
Two neighbors from the young, vibrant neighborhood in south Tel Aviv — Yonatan “Kimi” Kimelfeld, 28, a high-tech worker, and Omer Hikri, 31, an actor and comedian — found themselves creating together in a shelter a parody of the Israeli classic song “Come to Eilat.” The short video they filmed quickly spread online and racked up hundreds of thousands of views. But the story actually began during a different war.
When you discovered that Eilat is the least bombed city
(Credit: Yonatan 'Kimi' Kimelfeld and Omer Hikri)
It started with a song left in a drawer. Kimelfeld, an amateur musician who has lived in Florentin for the past year and a half, said the idea for the viral song was born about a year ago.
“I have a huge love for Brazilian music — samba and bossa nova,” he said. “From there I got into old Israeli music, and ‘Come to Eilat’ is one of those songs you hear and it just stays with you.”
The idea for the satirical cover emerged during a different period and against a different enemy.
“About a year ago, there was the whole situation with the Houthis and the missile strikes around Eilat,” he said. “Somehow it clicked in my head in a funny way — I suddenly realized I could write ‘Come to Eilat’ from the Houthis’ point of view, and it made me laugh.”
The high-tech worker wrote a new version of the song — but did nothing with it. “It was something I wrote for myself and never did anything with, and it just stayed with me.”
Fast forward to 2026 and the current war. Another factor behind the song was a trend that emerged in the early days of the conflict: many young Israelis living in older apartments without shelters, under constant bombardment and facing life-threatening danger, decided to simply head to Eilat for a few days.
Kimelfeld said he heard about the idea in almost every circle of friends he has.
“I have several groups of friends who don’t know each other at all, and independently they all started looking for someone to go down to Eilat with,” he said with amusement.
After several nights of sirens and little sleep, some people realized they could work remotely from there.
“People told themselves — if there are no flights and no routine anyway, we might as well go down to Eilat for a few days,” he said.
Thus, almost spontaneously, a small movement south began: groups of friends organizing last-minute rides or searching for available rooms, deciding to take a short break from the tension in central Israel — much like the temporary escape described in the song.
“That’s when I realized I could make the song relevant and change some of the lyrics,” Kimelfeld said of the inspiration.
One of the new lines in the cover was born this way.
“Originally I wrote, ‘Life is strawberries — a little fewer Houthis,’” he said. “Now I changed it to, ‘There are some tough guys here, but it’s better than Persians struggling to aim at night.’”
The creative connection between the two neighbors that launched the video began in the neighborhood’s improvised shelter. Like in many parts of south Tel Aviv, underground parking garages have become makeshift protected spaces during air raid sirens.
“There’s a huge parking garage on Herzl Street in Florentin that serves as a shelter,” Kimelfeld said, describing the local wartime scene. “Everyone stands outside calmly like everything’s fine — and then the moment the siren sounds everyone sprints inside.”
According to him, the scene is almost absurd and has even become a kind of social hub.
“There are huge numbers of people there. It’s a four-story parking garage, and on every floor there’s a different TikTok influencer. There are lots of internet personalities there. Our parking garage is really fertile ground for creativity.”
Hikri, his partner in the project, remembers the place just as well.
“Our friendship started in the shelter,” he said.
After one of the sirens, Kimelfeld decided to play him the song he had written.
“We came back from the shelter,” Hikri recalled, “and he said, ‘Want to hear the song I wrote about the Iranians and the Houthis?’ So I said, sure, play it.”
The reaction was immediate.
“I told him, ‘Bro, this has real potential to blow up online — but it has to be more current, because the Houthis aren’t the story anymore.’”
The two decided to update the lyrics to reflect the latest round of fighting with Iran — and the rest is history.
Later that evening Kimelfeld came over with his guitar to his neighbor’s apartment.
“We live really close,” Hikri emphasized. “He lives about 20 meters from me in a straight line — on the parallel street.”
The creative process itself was very simple.
“We sat on the couch,” he said. “We did about an hour of brainstorming — and this is what came out.”
Kimelfeld recalled:
“Omer likes to perform these things theatrically, with facial expressions and gestures. We never thought it would succeed like this — more than 700,000 views. Suddenly I saw people like Guy Mazig, Miri Mesika and Hanan Ben Ari liking our video.”
Then came a particularly moving moment.
“I saw that the son of Nurit Hirsh, who wrote the melody, shared the video on his Instagram story. That was a huge honor.”
Kimelfeld also makes sure to credit the original creators:
“You have to give credit to Yaron London for the lyrics and Nurit Hirsh for the melody. The moment that song came out, it was already a classic.”
Since the video spread online, Kimelfeld said he has experienced small moments of fame — ironically in the very place where it all began: the Herzl Street parking garage used as a shelter by Florentin residents.
“Sometimes people recognize me there,” he said with a laugh. “When I take off my glasses, suddenly someone says, ‘I saw your song.’ It makes me laugh. These really are my five minutes of fame.”