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This is Tel Aviv1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | Itinerary | Home
We later celebrated on the beach with hot falafels and sticky Cokes and then spent the better part of an hour letting the saltwater drain from our sinuses onto my 20-shekel towel. It was both painful and beautiful, our sun-baked bodies covered in sand and the warm water dripping from our noses. Come to think of it, it might have been one of the best days of my life. Tel Aviv has an undercurrent of its own. It’s a place with deep religious roots and raucous bars that don’t close. It’s a town in a nation where the people are known as Sabras – prickly on the outside but sweet within. It’s a city of indescribable beauty but pockmarked by the ravages of a turbulent past. Yet unlike the riptide near Jaffa, it’s not a place to fear. “In Jerusalem you pray, and in Tel Aviv you play,” says Irit, my guide for the first couple of days of my trip. “Tel Aviv is a combination of entertainment, food, architecture, beach, nightclubs; it’s all in one place.” Irit, thirtysomething, pretty and petite, lives in Jerusalem but likes to visit Tel Aviv for fun. As we stroll the tree-lined Rothschild Boulevard with its smart-looking sushi and coffee kiosks, shops and green spaces, she explains that this was the very beginning of the modern Tel Aviv. “Ben Gurion, Dizengoff – these are the kinds of people who started building it.” Most of the austere Bauhaus buildings are white and square with balconies and wooden shutters. Many are renovated; some are under construction. Others are crumbling, yet to be touched. All are squat and functional. This is a city designed around public spaces – a garden city built to bring people together. Truth is, no area is ever deserted in Tel Aviv, so there’s a real sense of security. A walkable metropolis, it’s meant to be traversed by foot. It’s also a living museum. With over 4,000 villa-style Bauhaus buildings, the largest concentration of its kind in the world, the White City of Tel Aviv was recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site in 2003. Parks and promenades, schools and residential areas are all tightly knotted together. We make our way through the boisterous Carmel Market and on to the ancient port of Old Jaffa, once the gateway to Israel. Napoleon even stayed here. Today it’s the gateway to cool. Like every hip area, first came the artists. Ilana Goor’s little enclave, with its authentic limestone building, eaten by years of sea salt, houses a museum, work studio and rooftop café. Curvy narrow alleys are everywhere, with lots of ancient steps and even more feral cats skulking about. Today is Tuesday, “the best day for a Jewish wedding,” explains Irit, “because in the book of Genesis, God said, ‘It was good’ twice.” There are, in fact, so many young couples having their wedding photos taken, it’s as if we’re caught up in the middle of a meringue dress swarming. Early afternoon in the lobby of my hotel, a gaggle of tourists is eating mousse nougat bombs and poppyseed pie while comparing notes. “Last time we were here was 1964,” declares the woman with frosted hair and oversize sunglasses, the gold chain around her neck sporting a dangling Star of David. “And I can’t believe it; in three days, I haven’t seen one thing that’s the same!” (I mean, honestly lady, the Six Day War hadn’t even happened.) |
