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The Secret Charms of Ramla

Mosques, churches and subterranean rowboats!  (Also the biggest radishes ever.)

Ramla is not a destination that jumps immediately to mind when planning a trip to Israel. In fact, a number of Israelis were puzzled when they heard we had gone there. It is however a very interesting place, and not without some eccentricities of its own. (It is in Israel after all).

We went on a field trip offered by Mike’s program at the university, so there was also an educational component to the visit.

Ramla was originally founded by one of the early Moslem Caliphs in 716 CE as the administrative capital of Palestine. It was strategically located at the intersection of the north-south road from Egypt to Syria,  and the road connecting Jerusalem with Jaffa. We were interested to learn that it was the first and only city in Israel founded by Moslems; all other cases they built on top of existing cities. Although most of what was built in the earliest years is no longer visible, there are remnants of the ancient town that are very interesting. Like Tel Aviv, it was built on sand dunes, hence its name, Ramla, which is the Arabic word for sand.

I’ll start with the part of town that has survived, virtually from its inception. The Pool of the Arches, built in 789 CE, served as an underground water reservoir for the city. It was fed by a sophisticated aqueduct, and possibly a spring below. It is  impressively large, with approximately  5000 square feet of underground lake, and it is covered with a roof supported by graceful  stone arches, like an underground cathedral.  It is a stunning piece of architecture that has survived both turmoil and earthquakes for over 1200 years. Seeing it today is not without its comic element, as the city has decided to allow people to row boats within it, to add to its appeal as a tourist attraction. Since the arches make the space too awkward for fixed oars, manoeuvering the boats requires a combination of canoeing and gondola skills, neither of which the average visitor possesses, as you can see.

Okay, how do we get out of here.

We also had a tour of the Great Mosque, which is still in use today.  It is large, open, beautiful, and…Gothic? Yes, it was originally built by the Crusaders, who took the town in 1096, and it is the best preserved example of a Crusader cathedral still in existence in Israel…even though it is now a mosque! Around 1268 when the Mamluks were in control, the steeple was re-built as a minaret, the pews were moved out…and voila!  But otherwise it is still very church-like.

The Crusaders would not be amused.

The Mamluks also built the White Tower,  a marvel of its time.  It was a minaret and, given its size, likely also a look-out tower,  forming part of a very large mosque complex that did not survive. The tower did endure however; it stands 90 feet high, and you can climb up 111 ancient steps to the very top which has a commanding view of…well… not that much.

A combination fortress/minaret

We  visited a large Franciscan church/monastery complex dating back to the 14th century, passing on our way a Greek orthodox church, even older.   In 1799, Napoleon was staying in the Franciscan hospice, and it is told that he was apparently so enraged at being woken up by the muezzin, (a mosque was in close proximity), that he got out of bed and shot him!

As we quickly learned, the town is very diverse by Israeli standards, including a mix of Arabs, both Muslim and Christian, and a large Jewish population.

In fact, even the Jewish population is also more diverse than usual, as it also includes the Karaite World Centre. This is a very small strand of Judaism that does not recognize the authority of Rabbinical Judaism,  or the Talmud, and that therefore does not follow the religious practices developed in the diaspora, which they consider to be man-made. They practise Judaism based on the plain text of what is written in the Torah/Tanach. So, just by way of example,  they would follow the commandment not to boil a kid in its mother’s milk as written in the Torah, but not the elaborate meat/dairy kosher laws that were later derived by the rabbis from that simple injunction.  For them, Jewish descent is patrilineal, as it is in the Bible;  and by the same token,  their new year starts in the spring, aligning it with  the first month in the Torah, (and with Passover);  and not in the 7th month, when our Rosh Hashana takes place… all very interesting, and new to me! (Although I have often wondered how it came to be that our New Year takes place in the 7th month.)

Another highlight of our tour was a visit to one of the loveliest open air markets I have seen in Israel, where in addition to the usual fine produce, including the biggest radishes I have ever seen, you can also buy anything else you might need, like say a fridge…or an evening gown.

Tennis ball sized radishes

 

Our final stop was for lunch in the old city, in a 700 year old building, where Samir’s restaurant now provides  an elaborate and lengthy meal of many courses, somewhat reminiscent of an Italian wedding in that it is designed to have you gain five pounds in one sitting. It was of course delicious!

Every bit as old as it looks
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Tel Aviv’s First Art Museum or…

( Dizengoff Rescued!)

I came across this little known story as a result of our visit to the Rubin museum. We were so fascinated by Rubin’s life story that I tracked down his (now out of print) autobiography in a local vintage book store.  This book, which is every bit as interesting as I thought it would be, includes an inside look at the lighter side of the founding of Tel Aviv’s first art museum.

Born in 1861, Meir Dizengoff, the driving force of this story, came to Israel from Russia where he had been trained as an engineer.  He was by all accounts a warm-hearted, ebullient and “get it done” kind of guy, who was prepared to move heaven and earth (and often did) to put his brand new city on the map. He and his wife were one of the 60 founding families who drew lots in 1908 to determine where each of them would build.  At the time, the city was just sand dunes as you can see below! He got # 16 Rothschild Blvd, and went on to become the city’s first mayor in 1921 when the city was formally recognized.

It is hard to imagine that Tel Aviv looked like this only 110 years ago

Rubin’s background is even more unusual.  Born in 1893 to an extremely poor Hassidic family in Galatz, Rumania, he was the 8th or 9th of 13 or 14 children. (He claims his mother was never quite sure!)  From an early age he was gifted at drawing, not exactly an esteemed skill in his community, where education was limited and prospects few. However, in a series of events that almost defy belief, he made his way to Israel in 1911 as a teenager, lived for a time in a tent on the dunes in Tel Aviv, went on to Paris and New York, survived the first world war in Rumania, came back to Tel Aviv, and in the process became an artist of some renown.

In 1932, when Rubin was living in Tel Aviv, Dizengoff  approached him with an idea. Since Tel Aviv now had schools, a hospital, a fire brigade, police, and even a prison (!), it was clearly time to have an “Art Museum”. His plan was that Rubin, who was by this time a reputable artist, would arrange the whole thing. Rubin thought it was a pretty improbable idea for Dizengoff to be focused on something like a museum so early in the city’s development, and he raised a number of practical objections to the concept. But no objection that Rubin came up with was enough to dissuade Dizengoff. (And this is one of the things I love about him!)

For example; where to put the museum?  No problem.  Dizengoff would donate his house!  Well then where would he live?  Dizengoff thought he could easily manage to live in a couple of rooms in the museum.  No, Rubin did not approve of that idea.  You cannot have someone eating and sleeping in a proper art museum.  Well then, after a little thought, Dizengoff had a solution for this too. He would build a small apartment for himself on the roof…and sure enough he did just that.

And what about art for the museum?  Well that was easy. They would put Rubin’s work on display to start with, and then Dizengoff would go to Europe to solicit donations of both money and artworks.  This really had Rubin concerned, because for all Dizengoff’s undoubted abilities, he knew truly nothing about art. However, Rubin had too much respect for the mayor to really argue the point. (Not to mention that he now knew he would be wasting his breath.)

In a matter of only months, the apartment was built on the roof, (times were clearly different then), and the museum opened with Rubin’s works on display. Tel Avivians were enthusiastic about this new addition to their fledgling city, a foundation was established, and money was raised for future development.

And off went Dizengoff to Europe to solicit support for the new venture.  By now, you will not be surprised to learn that he did indeed raise more money and also acquired some important art for the museum.  When he got back he told Rubin that, among other things, he had acquired two wonderful pieces of sculpture, perfect for a Jewish art museum: Michelangelo’s Moses, and Donatello’s David!   In his enthusiasm, he’d had his heart set on buying the originals, but of course had discovered that they were, most emphatically, not for sale. Not to be deterred, he kept trying and  was ultimately sold on a couple of bronze replicas, of the kind that you could pick up anywhere in Rome. Rubin had to break it to him that, sadly, these were not the sorts of things that could go into a museum, so in the end Dizengoff put them on his roof terrace, above the museum.

One night, the local police looked up, and in the moonlight they were convinced that they were seeing two thieves, or possibly murderers (!), crouching on the terrace, no doubt trying to break into the mayor’s apartment. One of them rushed upstairs and gave Moses a mighty whack on the head, breaking off his horns.  This clatter woke up Dizengoff who came out on to his terrace in his housecoat, to find his Moses in rough shape. He looked in astonishment at the policeman who sheepishly explained that he had mistaken the statue for a murderer.  But damaged or not, Dizengoff loved those statues, and both Moses and David remained on the terrace until the mayor passed away a few years later.

In 1948, it was there, at 16 Rothschild Blvd., that Israel formally declared independence. The museum remained at that site until 1971 when the modern new Tel Aviv art museum opened on King Saul Blvd.  The old museum is now known as Independence Hall. And considering his love of statues, it is only fitting that in front of the Hall is a statue of Dizengoff himself, on his horse.

 

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Levinsky Market Revisited or…

Beware the Halvah Witch!

The first time I went to the Levinsky market, I was doing a walk through Florentine, currently the most “up and coming” area in Tel Aviv. The Shuk Levinsky is located in the eastern end of the neighbourhood on, unsurprisingly, Levinsky street.  It is not a covered pedestrian market like Carmel, rather it is a few blocks, intensely crammed with small stores selling all kinds of spices, olives, coffees, dried fruits, nuts and other delicious things. Yes, and halvah. I’ll get to that.

A typical array of dried fruits and nuts

The area was first settled by Greek Jews, followed by immigrants from Iraq. Persia, and the Balkans, so the original focus was on selling ingredients for those cuisines. Today you can get pretty much any spice/ingredient you might need, if you can read Hebrew and decipher what is what.

The first time I strolled through, I could not even begin to choose from among the bewildering array of stores, many of which seemed to sell the same things. Who was who, and which should I choose?

This time, I went with Gili, one of my delightful Hebrew teachers, who promised we would go to all the best places.

We started with the only place I actually did know, and  which I have mentioned in an earlier post; 41 Levinsky, the kiosk that specializes in traditional Tel Aviv “gazoz”, sparkling water enlivened with all-organic fresh fruits, syrups, fresh herbs. Each one, custom made, almost too pretty to drink, and delicious. Even Gili was impressed.

The charming Anouk, (originally from Montreal), who makes a wonderful “gazoz”. It’s like drinking a bouquet of flowers.

Then to a little deli, fronted by a wide selection of olives, but actually specializing in such un-Israeli specialties as corned beef (!) and other cured meats.  (The Balkan influence at work.) Of course I had to buy something. It’s what I do. According to Mike, the corned beef was excellent. So were the olives.

It is amazing  how much can be fit into these little stores. Behind the olives you find a carefully chosen selection of cheeses and cured meats, and on the left side, out of view, even some wine!

From there, we went to get white coffee  ( ground coffee from beans that have only been very lightly roasted).  I had never even heard of this before, but Gili’s husband, upon hearing she would be in Shuk Levinsky, told her not to even think about coming home without it!  I went back to get some…just to try it. On balance I’d have to say that it is an acquired taste.  (And I have not acquired it.)

White coffee…who knew?

Then to the halvah store!  A clean, open, inviting store entirely devoted to halvah in every conceivable flavour…at least 20 different kinds. A little old lady stood, unsmiling, behind the counter in a little knitted cap. I asked for a small slice each of chocolate and vanilla.  Her knife hovered over the large loaf-like chocolate slab of halvah…”less”, I said, and her knife edged along …”no even less”,… the knife hovered, not moving much,…”please less”.  She gave me a look, and carved off exactly the big slice she wanted to cut the first time. And it was BIG.  The same process was repeated for the vanilla.  When we walked out of the store, I was the somewhat abashed owner of a kilo and a quarter of halvah! To put that in context, that is almost three pounds…or more to the point, around 6,000 (!) calories of trouble. (Yikes.)

oh halvah, so much halvah

What to do?  The polite Canadian in me of course paid up and left the store, scheming all the while as to how to save what is left of my waistline.  It did not take me long to decide that surely all those gorgeous (and slim!) young teachers at the Ulpan could help me out. And I was not disappointed. They rose magnificently to the occasion…and a good quarter of it vanished in a satisfactorily short time. They pronounced it a very high quality halvah, very delicious. It was a relief to know that it met their high standards.

This, by the way, is not the first time I have been snookered into buying more of something than I want, or something that I do not really need. You may remember the “boots incident”.  But usually I am charmed into the purchase, so I don’t really mind. This time there was no charm involved at all. Just steely-eyed determination.

Would you want to argue with her?

So how much halvah can one person (or even two) eat?  Not that much!  We surrendered on the weekend, and on Monday I personally delivered the rest to the Ulpan, where I am hopeful that I will never see it again.

This sign was in another store I went to previously on Allenby.  I thought it was a charming sentiment. That was before I bought three pounds of halvah.

 

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Tel Aviv Does Purim

Now THIS is a Purim party!

If Tel Aviv were a country, Purim would be its national holiday. This exuberant fling with hedonism has been its defining holiday since the founding of the city, when Dizengoff used to lead the annual Purim parade on his horse. It is fitting in a way, since Tel Aviv is the most secular of Israeli cities, and Purim is the most secular of the Jewish festivals. (God does not even get a mention in the story of Esther.)

We had heard a lot about how enthusiastically Tel Aviv embraces Purim, and we were not disappointed.  But oddly, on the day of Purim itself, there was not much happening apart from the odd costumed person on the street, like two guys in full-on Louis the 14th garb , and a little party at our school… oh… and a lion, (or dog, if you want to get picky about it).

I had to look twice. When they said everyone gets involved, they were not kidding

There are kids’ parties all week, but for adults things get going at night on Thursday and into Friday when the streets were hopping all day.  Although many of the really over the top parties happen at night,  there is a massive open air celebration at Kikar Medina on Friday which attracts something in the order of a hundred thousand people.   Kikar Medina is a giant circular park which is lined with designer stores that no-one ever seems to go to.  It is normally as dead as a doornail,  but on Purim it is jammed.  The party starts at noon and features performances from top musicians, lots of dancing and general frivolity!    We could hear it going strong from our apartment which is about a 15 minute walk from the festivities.

So of course, we went over to have a look, but before doing that we had to outfit ourselves appropriately, which we did, all things considered.

we do our best to fit in

I also invested in a special Purim purse which I am quite fond of.

Okay…how cute is this. And when else could I ever wear it!

So what did we see.  Oh boy.  Lots of people in all kinds of fancy get-ups. Families, bands of friends, even some senior citizens getting into the act, lots of food stands, and a big stage for the musicians with giant speakers to match. There was a massive security presence as you might imagine.

Some of our individual picks: not an easy task in the throngs of people milling about.

Trump does Purim

 

Trudeau does Purim

 

Okay, no more politics. Just some folks having fun…lots of them.

Could we take them home?

 

the aforementioned senior citizens cutting a rug

 

And a pirate ship?

Purim is like Hallowe’en, Carnival and a giant street party all rolled into one. Inhibitions are frowned upon; costumes  are required, (the more fanciful the better), and drinking is mandatory.

Did I mention that I really like this place?

On the way home we ran into this charming group of minions.

Mike has always had a weakness for minions

 

Chag Purim Sameach!

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Seven Layers of Curiosities: The Bus Station only Escher Could Love

Of all the things I expected to do in Tel Aviv, touring the central bus station was surely at the bottom of the list…actually, it was nowhere near the list. But in my research on Brutalist architecture, it popped up as a building everyone loves to hate, and I also saw the following advertisement:

Come with us as we go into the belly of the New Central Bus Station of Tel Aviv. Two and half hours of mysterious oddities, located in one of the most notorious buildings in Israel. Join us to find out why it’s one of the craziest places in the country. Architecture, breakdancing, Yiddish and Tagalog. What’s with all the graffiti on the 7th floor? and WHAT?! There’s a bat cave?!!! Curious? Meeting point: Levinsky 118, Tel Aviv, gate #42-43.

Curious? You bet.  And when it turned out that my friend Steve knew a tour guide who did this tour…well, my fate was sealed.

In the “What Were They Thinking Category!!!”, surely this structure must take pride of place. Designed in the sixties, covering 5 city blocks and containing 2.5 million square feet of space over six floors, it had a novel, and dubious premise.

The active part of the building is now on the left, except for the GIGANTIC and very on-trend nightclub in the right wing, “The Block”.  Don’t even think of getting there before midnight. Discounts if you get there before 1:00. The party winds up around 8:00. (A.M.)

Two competing bus lines were to share the space, but as arch-rivals, the only way they would agree to do so was if they each got their own depot. So the Dan buses were assigned to the lowest of six levels (which was 3 below street level), while the Egged buses were to come and go on the sixth level, then the top floor.  Dan did not want to be somewhere called lower level “-3”, so the lowest level was called “1”,  which is why, when you now enter off  the street, you are on level  #4.

To transfer from one set of buses to the other, (or just to get in and out of the place), required passengers to navigate from three to six levels on foot, through winding circular hallways. These were meant to evoke streets running off a main boulevard, and just like in Tel Aviv proper, those streets curved all over the place!  Travellers would pass as they went, 4 floors of stores, (2300 of them at full capacity)  SIX movie theatres, a food market,  restaurants, sitting areas, and so on.

The ticket wicket for the 6 theatres, now abandoned.

The labyrinth-like design ensured that this would take as long as long as possible with maximum opportunity to lose one’s way….oh… and to shop. This was intentional…and to this day, even the employees in the place can, and do, lose their way. Those of you who have been to the Dizengoff centre have only to imagine that particular mall “on steroids” to get the idea of the baffling layout that was employed.

A sitting area to rest and ponder your next move when lost in transit. It was meant to be cosy.

The idea was that you would have plenty of things to do while waiting for your bus, like say: take in a film, have dinner, and do a little shopping. The mall owners wanted a captive audience, and the layout ensured they would have one!

This is what happens when you put a mall developer, a high profile  Brutalist architect and an ambitious city administration together and shake well. Had any of them ever actually taken a bus?

Of course it never quite worked out as “planned” (if you can use such a word for the whole debacle). For one thing, shortly after construction started the country was at war and ran out of concrete. Once back on track, multiple redesigns delayed construction.  Several bankruptcies, and almost 30 years later, the “New” terminal finally opened for use in 1993.

To give Tel Avivis credit, they knew pretty early on that this was a disaster in the making, and it was soon nicknamed the “white elephant”. At the official opening ceremony, a giant helium balloon in the shape of  …yes… a white elephant… was released.  This is the kind of thing I love about this place.

Within three years, the lower Dan bus level was abandoned because the exhaust from the buses made the floors around  it unfit for human use. ( I am no expert, but it strikes me that this is the sort of thing that might have been considered before putting buses in the basement.)  Anyway, some of the buses were moved to the 6th floor,  and the rest to yet another NEW floor #7! (Why not double down!). Today the bottom level is used only on Sundays for soldiers returning to base. What a way to start the week!

All the stores that were on the levels 1-3, below grade, were abandoned due to lack of traffic, and air pollution…as were the movie theatres which were conveniently located next to the  basement  bus ramps.  More lawsuits ensued, as all those store owners lost their investments.  Today, only about 40% of the structure is occupied.

So what is left? Well, lots of abandoned stores, some 1300 of them.  Many long, scary, dark, empty corridors.

Sadly, there is a lot of this…if you venture off the beaten path, which I don’t recommend without a guide.

But in a tribute to the human spirit, and the enterprising nature of the hardscrabble neighbourhood surrounding the station, you can also find about 1,000 little businesses, most of them crowded into a bazaar like atmosphere at ground level (#4,) and up to the second floor (#5.) The overall effect is one of mass confusion.

You can start your trip with the purchase of a bird, or giant goldfish
or maybe pick up a guitar

And there are  countless shoe stores, hallways and hallways of them, clustered together into a kind of crazy “shoe neighbourhood”…hmmm…maybe this place does have some redeeming features.

Shoe, shoes, shoes…as far as the eye can see

“Little Manila”, which might have been the busiest part of the place; grocery stores, restaurants, and money-wiring services for the Philipina community which is as integral to elder care here as anywhere else.

Little Manila…check out the sign.

What else?  Let’s see.  A dance studio, a church, a synagogue, endless space for skateboard fanatics and breakdancers,  and Israel’s biggest, (of course), and most notorious nightclub, The Block.   Also a few artist’s studios. Like this one.

The rent is cheap…but you have to put up with the buses rumbling overhead…and they are pretty loud.

This fellow is a ceramic artist and sells his goods in the Nahalat Binyamin market.  He also has the keys to to the Yiddish Museum which is across the way, and which he opened up to show us around. Yes, of all things, there is a Yiddish Museum, in what looks like a tiny storefront, but which is much bigger when you get inside. It houses thousands of old books, old newspapers, other memorabilia, and a stage for klezmer concerts.  And as we all know, where there is music… there must be a bar…and indeed there was one, which our ceramic artist put to immediate use.  The whole museum is a labour of love staffed entirely by volunteers.

A modest storefront for the Yiddish Museum. How anyone could find it is a mystery to me. There are no obvious opening hours.
The Klezmer stage, and a small fraction of the books that are stored there. They make a nice backdrop.
Old Yiddish newspapers

 

On the lowest level, there is also a bomb shelter that can hold 16,000 people. It has actually been used once.

It would take a bomb threat to get me back down there

And  right by the bomb shelter, possibly the most peculiar feature of the whole crazy structure, a giant bat colony. Yes, nature abhors a vacuum, and when the buses left, the bats moved in. Thousands and thousands of them. So naturally, a decision was made to protect them, by walling off their own 200 metre long concrete bat cave. Then it was declared a nature preserve, under the supervision of Israel’s Nature and Garden Department (!)…(I have no words). You cannot actually see into it, but you can hear the little critters when standing by the wall.  They are there…trust me.

And what about the buses, the “raison d’etre” of the whole place?  Well they got a brand new floor on the top of the structure  (# 7 !), which is actually quite nice, especially compared to the rest of the building.  It has a great view of Tel Aviv.

After six floors of gloom, getting up here was like arriving in heaven

The 7th floor also has a vast and exuberant collection of street art. The city invited some of the better known street artists to decorate the walls to celebrate the new floor, and this was such a success that it has been left there permanently. It was certainly worth seeing and I would go back for that alone.  It casts Florentine into the shade. A couple of examples:

Not your average graffiti… and certainly fits its location
the floor is huge and full of wonderful pieces like this

There is little certainty about the future of this bizarre structure. It is much too big for its purpose, and it  squats right in the middle of a run-down neighbourhood that is in dire need of revival and refurbishment.  All that empty dark space attracts all kinds of illicit activity, which drags the area down even further.  City planners are desperate to get rid of it, but it is privately owned and nothing is simple in Israel, even in the rare case when all parties agree.  Demolishing it would cause all kinds of pollution…and  most importantly…let us not forget the bats.  This is their home.

Not your everyday bus station

 

 

 

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On the Quirky Side…

Just the other day I read an article from the CTV news feed about an Ontario woman who was issued a $110.00 traffic ticket for driving with a green parrot on her shoulder.  (You can’t make this stuff up.)

She should move to Tel Aviv.

Here, the parrot would be made welcome in a Tel Aviv bar, as you can see below.  Ben met one when he was out recently, perched on a fellow patron’s shoulder, but happy to be sociable with others. No big deal at all.

Ben and friend. Parrots welcome here, and who knows what else.

Throughout the city there are lots of formal art installations, in parks, on street corners and so on, like this mosaic egg.

Mike and the Egg in the Noga Neighbourhood

 

But there are also what I would call informal, and often eccentric, personal expressions of creativity that pop up when you least expect them.

For example, walking down Frishman, a nearby residential street, there is an apartment building with a rare lower level apartment which has a nice stone patio a few steps down.  Populating this little terrace is a whole collection of almost life-size  ceramic figures; there is also a small table where regular people can sit. They won’t be lonely.

A bit of the Shire right in the heart of Tel Aviv

…and above them to the left, cats, also ceramic. And why not?

In fact there is something about this whole set-up that says “cat lover” to me.

On a nearby street, a downed tree limb, repurposed, with exposed ends modestly covered.

 

And in the Yemeni quarter, a lovely wall full of inset ceramic odds and ends, plates, painted tiles, and whatnot, which just popped up out of nowhere.

Ceramic graffiti

 

On King George, on top of a pink store, a full size yellow car, driven by a mouse…or at least I think that is what it is.

And you’ll notice part of a menorah on the right. It comes down to street level for Hanukkah. The store below is selling Purim costumes.

As you can see, there is plenty of colour in the White City!

 

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Old and New at the Glass Museum

A while ago I signed up for a full day tour of Tel Aviv’s archeological museum, The Eretz Israel Museum. This was a bit  (very) over-ambitious as I have about 2 hours of “museum stamina” in me.  It was a special offer tied to the archeology lectures I have been attending, and featured tours given by the curators of three different collections, Glass, Pottery, and Man and his Work, so I went for it!  It was exhausting, but worth it, to listen to the curators, all of whom are practising archeologists, and who were passionate about these collections which they had been instrumental in building.

The storage area of the Pottery Museum. What visitors don’t get to see.
A life-size glass crusader!
A millstone from the Roman-Byzantine period. Note the menorah etched on the side.

The museum itself is built on the site of an archeological dig, Tel Quasile, (over 3,000 years old), on beautiful grounds overlooking Tel Aviv. As the dynamic curator of the “Man and his Work” pavilion said, it seemed a brilliant idea at the time to put an archeology museum right at a dig site.  However, every time they sunk a shovel, the builders would find some new antiquity, everything stopped dead, and so it took quite a while to finish.  The site is now home to several individual pavilions, each operating as a separate museum focused on a particular theme, including oddly, a museum of postal history, covering mail-service in the area from the 15 century to 1948!  (I may have to go back for that one. I have never really thought about mail service that way.) Interspersed with all of these, are the original dig sites, and subsequent finds such as Byzantine olive presses etc.

The curator of the ethnography museum (Man and his Work), showing us re-created workshops of antiquity.

Of the three museums we toured, the loveliest from a visual standpoint was the Glass Museum, featuring glass from the 15th century BC to the present.  It was amazing to see how well preserved these ancient glass items were, especially compared to the pottery museum, where many pots were found in fragments and reassembled.  As the curator pointed out, this is because glass items were precious in their day, and were often buried with their owners.

The most striking piece was a remarkable glass mosaic from Caesarea circa late 6th century (Byzantine period) unique in the world for its condition.

The glass mosaic. Gorgeous. Amazing that it survived.

It was a pleasure to finish with some contemporary pieces. I especially like the splashing water.

splashing water in glass from the side
and from the front
and an  apple
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Tel Aviv Architecture: the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

When it comes to architecture, Tel Aviv is full of surprises.

On the plus side, you can lose yourself in the exoticism of the middle east (the Shuk, Jaffa, or the Yemenite quarter), wander in what looks like a charming European village (Neve Tzedek,), or stroll on a beautiful European style boulevard (Rothschild).

Entry to the Shuk. Classic eclectic style.
The Yemenite quarter has the feel of a Greek Island.

 

Equally, you can find yourself in a modern downtown, in an impressive cultural complex (Habima), or in a charming Bauhaus neighbourhood for which the town is famous. There is even a small neighbourhood of American colonial wood buildings (as far as I know, the only ones in Israel) which were built in 1866 by a group of settlers from Maine. They went so far as to bring their own wood with them, and thought they were coming to the Garden of Eden. (They lasted two years.) For some of this, you need to go looking, and it is worth the effort.

One of the rare wooden houses built by settlers from Maine!
Modern Tel Aviv

 

But this is no architectural paradise, by any stretch of the imagination. Most streets, even in expensive neighbourhoods, are lined with boxy, utilitarian, low-rise flats, covered in stucco that has weathered to a tired tan colour.  (Fortunately there are lots of trees that soften the effect.)

There are also plenty of gritty commercial stretches, sometimes right next to, or interspersed with, nicer buildings. (One of the worst of them is right behind the seaside stretch of hotels, which can immediately give tourists the wrong idea about this city). This sort of thing serves to weaken the overall aesthetic considerably.  For example, I post two pictures below of once identical buildings across the street from another in the centre of town; one restored, the other not. This is Tel Aviv in a nutshell…be prepared for both.

There are also some very prominent buildings that fall into the “What were they thinking category?” For example, the city hall. When I first saw it, I took it  for a shabby office building, or even an apartment building.)

When I say the city hall is brutal, it is not my personal opinion.  It is the formal term for pretty much the ugliest building style to afflict the planet, the aptly named “Brutalist” movement; and sadly Tel Aviv has an unfortunate amount of it. (Okay, so it also happens to be my personal opinion…)

Yes, this is the city hall

I had trouble understanding how this happened. Perhaps it was built in a period when money was short? (Surely it wasn’t meant to look like that!)  A little research proved me wrong. Brutalist buildings were expensive to build, prominent architects designed them, and the city is full of them. Clearly the planning department in the mid-twentieth century was infatuated with the movement. Most of beachfront hotels are (sadly) also in this style, and many other prominent buildings: the EL Al building, the Dizengoff Tower, the Shalom Tower and so forth. I pass a few of them every day…and they do not add to the pleasure of the walk. (Of course, who has time to look up when dodging bicycles and scooters.)

The El Al building
The Dizengoff Tower. The great man would not be amused.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Toronto has its fair share of brutalist architecture as well, (the Robarts Library, being a prime example) , but the look seems less jarring in the concrete jungle of downtown north American cities, than in what was fundamentally a low-rise Mediterranean city. Here they pop up like a bunch of sore thumbs.

 

View from our apartment. The squat grey building in the middle is the city hall, seen from the side.

And while the City Hall is bad, apparently it pales in comparison with the Central Bus Terminal, a 2.2 million s.f. behemoth, spread over 5 city blocks and originally meant to house 2,300 stores! It is apparently the largest bus terminal in the world and reputedly the most hated structure in Israel.  Every so often, planners talk about tearing it down, but apparently that is almost impossible, so thick is the concrete, and the fear is that the resultant dust would choke Tel Aviv for weeks.  Needless to say, the architect was a Brutalist, and likely someone who never took a bus anywhere.

I have never been there, and most Tel Avivis avoid it like the plague, but the structure is now so full of so many bizarre things, that at least one enterprising company offers monthly tours…and since it is not in the nicest part of town, that might be the safest way to go. I am trying to persuade Mike to come along, but I may have to lean on Ben for this one.  Either way, I think it will deserve its own post! Stay tuned.

 

 

 

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The weather: Lots of sun!  Also water and sand…not always where you expect them.

I hate to bring this up, but the weather here has been amazing, mostly mild and sunny since we have arrived.

Just down the street from us…yes, this is winter

The weather does have some quirks however.

First, it is the rainy season, and although it has been drier than normal for this time of year, it does occasionally rain.  And when it rains, well…pardon the expression… but it can be biblical.  The winds sweep in off the Mediterranean, and the rain comes down in torrents, and with little warning…it feels as though there is someone throwing buckets of water from the sky.  Since there are few or no storm sewers, the water rises quickly and before you know it you can be ankle deep in water as you step off a curb, tempting you to leap over giant puddles…which is a risky strategy, since the streets can be very slippery. So waterproof boots are a must; oddly so are sunglasses since it clears up in a hurry.

This can take only minutes

I was out on a walking tour the other day as part of my Hebrew course (trying desperately to put a coherent sentence together…not succeeding), and the skies opened. We had to duck into a construction site for shelter, which unfortunately was only marginally drier due to its sieve-like roof… As we dodged the interior rain drops, my instructor took a selfie of the two of us…you’ll note our friendly photo-bomber!  After about 10 minutes huddling there, we made a dash for a local café…very crowded with like-minded rain refugees and spent a pleasant half an hour waiting for a break in the weather. (I am happy to report that I can now order coffee in Hebrew. Also wine and beer on other occasions…you will note I do have my language learning priorities straight).

Notice our new friend

Fortunately for us, but not for the country, it has rained rarely during our stay, and the rest of the time it has been bone dry here.  I was surprised by this because I am used to humid weather in Tel Aviv, but in the winter, the winds often blow in from the east, i.e. from the desert, and they bring in very dry air.  I am not the sort that takes a water bottle everywhere, but there are many times I wish I had. I even had to go out and buy a super intense moisturizer from AHAVA to battle my parchment-like skin. I figured if anyone understood how to combat desert air it would be them…and I was right.

Sometimes during those very dry periods, we see a brownish haze over the city.  A little like Toronto on a very humid day. But there is no humidity and It is not pollution as we know it either. So our good friend, Eran, filled us in…Carried along by the dry winds from the desert, this haze is actually a very fine sand!  It does not really feel like sand as we think of it, more like a very fine dust so you don’t see the particles, but it is pervasive, and sneaks into all kinds of nooks and crannies, including your throat.  Tel Aviv can also have stronger and more obvious sandstorms, but so far we have only experienced the sneaky kind.

Our view with dust
And without

But mostly we have had days like this.

Tel Aviv University Dec 25, 2018

 

 

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Parking or “Oy…What a Balagan” (mess)

Tel Aviv is a young city, established only in 1909, (younger than my daughter’s Toronto house!), on sand dunes north of Jaffa.  It was meant from the beginning to be a modern city, with sewage and running water, and with plans to create an orderly grid structure.  A city for the future!

Well the grid did not really happen, as Mike and I have often discovered as we set out in one direction, say west, and find the street has sneakily wound around and we are facing north, or south.

The grid plan

And for all the planning, the notion that people might acquire cars, did not appear to cross anyone’s mind.

As a consequence, the majority of apartment buildings, which line every street in Tel Aviv, have no parking at all, and the residents are obliged to park on the street. Since these buildings are generally four-five stories, with anywhere from 8-12 units within, and space in front (if any) for maybe 3 cars…you can see where the supply/demand equation for parking can quickly get out of hand. Most streets are one way, so as to allow parking on both sides.

And even so they are on the sidewalk

And it is not unusual to see cars parked in creative ways, at right angles between two parallel parked cars, for example.

Smart cars…very handy
Who is this handsome guy?

 

Sometimes they are on the sidewalk  Actually…often they are on the sidewalk. Sidewalk parking is something I encounter every day as I walk along King George.  This creates short bottlenecks where hapless pedestrians (like me) have even less room to compete with the ever aggressive bicycles and scooters that dominate the sidewalks. I can’t imagine that parking this way is legal, but clearly whatever penalty might be attached to such an action, it pales in comparison with what a bus driver might do if a driver dared to pull over and block his lane.

Typical day on King George

 

There is little point driving within the city, but not so much because of traffic.  It is because having actually secured a street parking spot within walking distance of home, it is very risky to get in the car and drive anywhere in town; i) because there will be no parking at the destination, and ii) because when you come back your spot will undoubtedly be gone.  And good luck finding a new one!

The search for parking can provide plenty of opportunity for drama, as cars jockey for position and prepare to pounce on an empty spot (think Yorkdale on the weekend).  A driver with a passenger is at an advantage in this game. Once a spot is identified, the passenger is dispatched to stand in the spot and fight off the competition, while the driver takes the necessary circuitous route through the one-way side streets to get there.  The passenger then provides an extra pair of eyes to ensure that there is at least one centimetre left between the newly parked car and both its neighbours. How drivers manage to squeeze into some of these spots, and then get out again, is a mystery to me.

How do they do this?