Day 8, Tel Aviv and Back Home, 11 December 2017
Hmm, Last day of the trip. As they say all good things must come to an end. (All bad things also must). We had in mind, a shopping visit to the Jaffa flea market and a swim in the Mediterranean, besides leaving for airport in time without forgetting the passports. Our family is so scatterbrained, I can remember every single incidence of our forgetfulness. Of course everyone does that, but Chinnasamys are the first among equals.
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Artwork on the promenade wall
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Early in the morning, we went for a walk in the beautiful beach promenade. The long walk was the most satisfying and memorable travel experience in the whole trip. We had the whole stretch of beach for ourselves and the crispy sea breeze was making it invigorating and enjoyable. A walk in the sunset would have been very scenic, but we had missed it.
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Tayalet
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Tayelet means promenade. The beautiful walkway goes along the Tel Aviv coast, from north of the city where we were staying to its south, where the Jaffa Port is. There were landscaped gardens and lawns with artfully designed seating arenas between the beach and the boardwalk. There were steps to go down to the beach. Some parts were under renovation and construction workers were busy even in that time of the morning. They seemed to have worked all the night.
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Landscaped promenade
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Lucky city folks, what a nice place
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The Tayelet had been a dirty place till recently. Till 1980, Tel Aviv city was pouring its sewage into the sea and the beaches had been banned for bathing. Seaside was full of low end bars, gambling joints and brothels and the public was abstaining from the area. Then they built a new port 40 Kms away and closed down the Tel Aviv and Jaffa ports, built a new sewage treatment facility and transferred the muck to the plant and not to the sea. And the beaches came to be like this. That it has happened in the last 35 years is unbelievable. Hope Chennai Marina becomes one like this one day, devoid of its noisy hawkers, filthy garbage and sickeningly designed mausoleums.
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I had the whole beach for me
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We walked all the way to Jaffa and back, watching the beach and the city that was waking up. It was a lovely morning, a few people jogging in the promenade, a few cyclists burning up the road and an intrepid old man going for a swim in the chilly sea water.
Towards the old city of Jaffa, (now Yafo) there was a big mosque on the street. An Ottoman style mosque, in sharp contrast to the modern high rise buildings surrounding it, it was intriguing. Later I learnt that it was the Hassan Bek Mosque, a century old one. Once this was in the boundary between the old Arab port city of Jaffa and the Jewish neighbourhood of the Neve Tzedek in Tel Aviv. Neve Tzedek in Hebrew means ‘Abode of Justice’! Built in 1916, by the Turkish Governor of the same name, its history is closely woven with the various stages of the Jewish Arab conflict. Though it escaped demolition during the 1948 war, (Commander Menachem Begin, who became the Prime Minister later had vetoed the idea), it continues to be the subject of heated controversy. Jaffa Arabs holding on till date.
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Walking back on the Ha'Yarkon St
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On our way back, we could see the traffic bristling on the HaYarkon Street running along the coastline. Sunday is not a holiday in Israel. Weekend is Friday to Saturday only and today is the first day of the week. Perhaps people were going to their works with Sunday Blues.
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| walking back to hotel |
In the hotel, breakfast buffet was, as usual, sumptuous and the thought that it will take a few months to find another smorgasbord like this made me practice the art of gluttony with perfection. Helped myself with big scoops of Shakshouka, (poached eggs on a spicy tomato sauce) and mouthfuls of nuts and dry fruits. Filled up the available gastric volume with chunks of fruits and topped up it all with a cup of strongly brewed coffee.
Then we went back to the room, packed, checked and kept everything in order and then set out for the old city of Jaffa. It is just at the other end of the road. With some difficulty, found a place in a side lane to park the car and walked into the streets of the Jaffa.
Quaint Jaffa is both charming and quirky. Old Testament has a story that this city was built by Japheth, son of Noah, after the famous flood. Traditionally it has been an Arab city, (but now Jews outnumber Arabs by 2:1) but unlike Jerusalem’s Arab streets, the streets of were looking calm and nice with an element of European architecture. They are renovating the old city with an eye on tourism and it showing up.
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Historic Jaffa
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Jaffa’s flea market is its star attraction. Spread in grids of narrow streets around a majestic old clock tower, this market is full of stylish boutiques, street side cafes and colourful shops selling vintage furniture, trinkets and antique items. It had the potential for some treasure hunting, in fact I had spotted a weather wane (weather-cock?), but as always, Sampoo disposed of the idea. A brilliant canvass painting of a rebel (usually stone pelting) Palestine holding out a bouquet was also vetoed. Then, in accordance with Sampoo’s decision, as it is always, we settled for a set of beautiful glass plates with some delicate artwork, for a throwaway price. For Sampoo’s great haggling skills, we should have got the trays for free.
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Flea market
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Then we went to a laid back street side café, sat down for some coffee and watched the interesting crowd of travelers thronging the market. After some time we left and drove back to the hotel. It was time to check out.
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Jaffa Street scene
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| Pretty much like Indian city street |
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| Another Street |
We kept our bags in the cloak room and went down to the basement swimming pool. Before entering the warm pool, we checked out the Finnish sauna for some time. It is understandable for the Finnish to have saunas in their homes and hotels, but why Israel, of all the places, has a hot steam spewing room? As though they don’t perspire outside.
Anyway, the sauna experience was very refreshing and we enjoyed some time in the Jacuzzi too. Then did some laps in the big heated swimming pool. Afterwards, we changed and stepped out for lunch. At three PM, various eateries were open for lunch by then and we chose a sea food restaurant. Had a chowder (served in a big bread bowl) and some fried shrimp. OK.
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Beach side restaurant
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Tel Aviv Chilly beach
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By 5 PM, it was time to say good bye to Renaissance and Tel Aviv. Took the car and drove to airport. Dropping off the car was smooth, I was expecting a horrible experience like the one we had while picking it up in Jerusalem. Fortunately, the guys let us off in a few minutes.
Back at the airport, the queues were long and they took forever in various security gates. Finally we reached the departure lounge and had some extra time to spend in the Dan lounge on the airside. By then we were hungry and had a good time in the well-stocked lounge.
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Good Bye, Israel, We love you.
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The flight back to India was loaded with many observant Jews. Saw many of them praying, with the skull caps. Some were seen swaying well with all the extra fittings like the Tefillins and shawls. The Tefillins are a set of two small leather boxes, one tied to the left arm so as to rest against the heart, and the other one on the forehead (like the ENT doctor’s head lamp) with black leather straps.-l I had read it somewhere that men usually wear them during their morning prayers only, but my fellow passengers must be hard core Jews. Surreptitiously observing the Jewish prayer was a good time pass.
The food was good. By this time we were accustomed to the falafel and hummus. Still, I was struggling with some other items in the menu like the characteristic non chewable, non-bitable tasteless bread (they give it in all the flights) and the Pulao (anything but Pulao). What all I can say is it tasted like a plane food.
As it was an overnight flight, we slept it away and reached Mumbai safely. India, the great easy going country, is a breeze. Despite thoroughly unprofessional conduct of the airport officials, the comfort level I feel as soon as I land in India is unparalleled. Any airport, for that matter.
It may be unfair to judge an entire nation by a just weeklong travel experience, but Israel, despite the collective achievements of its valiant and brainy people, will never be a place I would like to go and settle in retirement. Not only is the desert’s lack of greenery, there are many other reasons like the prices, the taxi drivers and the parking lot meters. Compared to other nationalities, Israelis are of the somewhat informal kind. Generally unblessed with English language skills could be a reason for their communication style (or lack of it). Nobody smiles back. Japanese (whom I admire too much) also have an English language problem, but in courtesy and helpfulness, they excel.
In fact, Israel is like India in many ways. Apart from being the birthplaces of some great religions and homes to many a brilliant people, both have religious animosity and racial issues, both have a hostile Islamic neighbourhood, both have extremely partisan politicians who often have scuffles in parliaments and both have the world’s worst cheating taxi drivers. Both nations now want to prove themselves too much.
But Israel is one country that loves Indians. At least I felt so. In none of the countries I had travelled to so far, there are more than a dozen of them, I felt so recognized. Most of the people recognized that we were from India. Many of them acknowledged it expressively. With some warmth.
Thank you, Israel.
Thank you, Israel.
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