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Published: March 17th 2009
Bye-Bye Jordan Valley
On the road again. Destination: Tel Aviv!!!One can come to be used to new circumstances at an alarming speed. I have experienced this phenomenon on more than one occasion, and find it to be a theme running through my current travels as well. Where I currently reside, in Poriyya Illit on the south-western slopes above the Kinneret, the feeling is one of quiet, relaxed solitude. Unlike in the kibbutziem where the collective is the priority and I think you would be hard-pressed to ever feel alone, in this hilltop village people live in detached homes, behind gates and fences and more or less mind their own business without too much interaction with the rest of the 'community.' Despite my description, I have not in any way found this place to be lonely (yet... I reserve the right to alter this statement in the future, should the mood strike me.) In fact, it reminds me a lot of my home in Kilbride ON, where similarly, people live in big houses, bordered by big properties. And it is
as beautiful in it's natural splendor. It is a far cry from living in downtown Toronto though. I suppose the experience of living on the
East Shore of Kootenay Lake in British Columbia for 4 months served as
Hot Enough for the AC
A momentous enough occasion for photo-documentation. preparation for living in rural environment I currently find myself in. And I must say, I love it! Spacious quietness is a commodity that is not often boasted about especially by young people (among whom I still count myself), but I am ever aware of the comfort it provides in my day-to-day life, and I cherish it. However, with youthful blood still pumping through my veins, sometimes I long for the pulsing vibrancy of the urban experience... and luckily for me, Tel Aviv is but a 2 hour car ride away. So, with the forecast predicting 30 degree C temperatures with lots and lots of sun, Yotam and I decided to make a 2-day roadtrip to the nations capitol and urban hotspot.
The conception of proportions is something that will take some getting used to for me here, I do believe. What is a weekend roadtrip in Israel, is a morning commute for many in Ontario. Nonetheless, I was very excited to set out for our first "big" trip early on Friday morning, with the sun in our eyes, kissing goodbye to the rolling green hills of the Jordan Valley. Driving south, past the kibbutz where we typically never
First Glimpse of the Mediterranean
Needless to say, I was very excited. pass, I felt the familiar flood of excitement entering my body at the prospect of movement. I think I must be hopelessly addicted to travel! To be on the road, with nothing to limit movement save the course of the roadway, is exceptionally freeing to me. The experience of driving across Canada truly articulated this feeling for me, and now every time I set out on a trip by car, the same sensation visits me. And what a blessing it is!
As we approached the city, we came into the smaller cities (suburbs, I suppose) surrounding Tel Aviv; Netanya, Kfar Saba, Herzliya, and I began to really feel the density of the environment increasing. More cars, more lanes, more people, higher buildings, and the rush of entering a vibrant city. Also, the terrain had changed slowly, but remarkably as we drove south-west towards the coastal city. The lush rolling hills of the north had receded, to be replaced by sandy dunes, in promise of the sea-side, and the beach! Having so far experienced more cold and rain than I had anticipated when coming from Canada (aka the home of frigid cold), I was sooooooooo happy to have been blessed
with a weekend of sun and warmth, and even happier to be able to spend some of it on the Mediterranean beaches of Tel Aviv.
First though, we made our way into a hip district of the city, to Yotam's friend's home, in an upscale neighborhood. Tel Aviv, so I am told, is a relatively expensive city to live in, when comparing cost of living with average income. Our host, Tashi, told us as we parked our car in their apartment parking lot, that that spot alone costs him the equivalent of $150 USD a month. Thus, many people in Tel Aviv choose scooters and mopeds as their mode of transportation over cars, giving the city a slight stroke of Indian feel (to my sense, at least.) While unlike India these motorists do (more or less) obey lane and traffic control signals, they do find it appropriate to drive on the side walks, at rather alarming speeds. I am not at all surprised that what tourists to Israel are warned of most in terms of preserving their health, are the drivers. With no tone of judgment, I feel completely comfortable broadly labeling the lot of them as insane. This
E.T. Phone Home
The Extraterrestrial Advocates Society. They don't have a chapter in Poriyya. being said, in the HaCarmel Market and vicinity, given the lovely day, and it being Friday (Friday and Saturday are the weekend days in Israel, with Sunday being the first day of the work week) pedestrians had overtaken road and walkways alike, and were streaming in and out of shops, restaurants, and vending areas as far as the eye could see. This officially granted me, as Tashi pointed out, presence within the largest group of Israelis I had been amongst yet. An exciting, and overwhelming, moment indeed.
Making our way through a restaurant to another lunch spot, I was struck by a sight, once again reminiscent of India. And here, I feel I must make a note about these travel comparisons I find myself repeatedly forming. At the risk of offense, I must state for the record that I find Israel to be much closer to the "developing" world I saw in India (or whatever the currently politically correct term is - I'm sorry, I can't keep up with the constantly changing terminology) than to the North American standard in places like Toronto and New York. I take into account that the common quality of well-aged history that Israel
Art in the Park
Urban acts of art... love it. (the land, if not the "State") and India share, unlike the newbie cities and centers in North America, may account for this apparent similarity in feel. However, I feel there is something else to compare as well, although I cannot find the right words for it.... Disorganized sounds too negative, and doesn't describe the appealing vibrancy of both places aptly. Perhaps better to label the North American standard instead, as I feel I know that much more intimately; where Toronto feels rather sterile and orderly, this "developing" world feels like a mish mash of history, culture, sights, smells and sounds. Where New York feels meticulously developed, with not a square foot gone to waste (everything fitting within 'the grid') Indian and Israeli cities, feel more organic and meandering. I think this is the best I can describe what I have felt and experienced thus far... Perhaps deeper insight will come with time. But now back to the striking sight that prompted this digression.
Making our way through one restaurant to access another, I saw on the sidewalk patio two little boys with grubby clothes, a bag on wheels and wide eyes, just standing there amongst the hustle and bustle
No Poo!
Another hallmark of city life. of the Friday lunch rush. They had adopted a stance half discreet, half pitiable, not pushing themselves upon the patrons but also quite obviously not with any adult in the vicinity, nor moving with the more typical carefree nature that small children should exhibit. Just standing there. Perhaps my sensitivity to this scene, which I saw all too often in Chennai, Bangalore, Delhi and Jaipur (but with considerably more force) had been resurfaced by seeing
Slum Dog Millionaire recently, but I think not that I was creating this scene in my mind. These children were beggars, and had the good enough sense (or perhaps training) not to draw too much attention to themselves, as they undoubtedly would have been immediately removed by the restaurant staff. One does not see child beggars in Toronto or New York... by this I am not denying child poverty and homelessness in North America. However, no one can argue that it takes on the same public character as it does in "developing' nations. It just isn't the same. So, it was here that I saw very clearly (and with sadness in my heart) a tie between these places I have traveled to. Child poverty, unfortunately,
is an international phenomenon, and I can only wonder if it has the same sort of industriousness in Israel as it does in India...
After a loud lunch in one of the market restaurants (of yummy hummus - although apparently, not the best) and mediocre tabuli (even
I could make this distinction), we headed into the heart of the market, I in search of white sage (for smudging) and flip flops. Again, flashbacks to India, this time to Pushkar, where things are chill enough (and touristy enough, I guess) not to be constantly assaulted by merit of having white skin, and there is good shopping and authentic Indian culture at every turn. Small walkways, lined with rising apartments, we made our way as directed not along the main street entering into the market but one one of the side streets, where the spice vendors were reported to be. Market culture is a beautiful thing, and will never,
never be successfully co-opted by corporate entities like Whole Foods, try as they might. You can't manufacture uneven walkways, shanty vending booths, the smell of over-ripe fruit and the sounds of hawking vendors. This is organic-grown market culture, and I love it.
In the Midst of It
The throngs of market goers. And a little bit'a bling :) Like I love Kensington Market in Toronto, but this is a whole other level. I could almost picture Jesus (or some other appropriately ancient person) walking through these narrow walkways, squeezing through the thronging masses, in full delight of the sensory overload. The sensation of antiquity is palpable here, and perfectly translates my perception of this place being more like India than Canada, with utter positivity and due respect.
A waterfront drive that evening approaching sunset took us into the streets of
Jaffa , a municipality of Tel Aviv boasting a heterogeneous population of Jews, Christians, and Muslims. Jaffa (or Yafo in Latinized Hebrew) is an ancient port town, and has structures remaining from ages past. Cobblestone streets add to the historical feel of the place, although we didn't have too much daylight time for exploration... I hope to go back and have more time to get into the place in the future.
That evening, after dining with Yotam's friends Ariel & Mayrav at their home where we were staying for the night, we set out to hear a band play at a bar called The Third Ear. And here, I must rant. Smoking is an unarguably disgusting habit,
Rooftops
Kinda reminds me of the chimney sweeps in Mary Poppins... sans chimneys, of course. but one that I would not forcibly prevent any adult from in indulging in, if s/he so wishes. This being said, I resent being forced to share air in enclosed spaces with smokers. It is gross. It stings the eyes, burns the throat, and makes your hair and clothes smell like an ashtray. Blagh. Apparently, some law was passed in Israel, forbidding people from smoking indoors in public places. But, god forbid anyone actually enforce the natural right of Israelis to smoke indoors. No, no, no!!! It is
far too much to ask that people go outside, into the gentle, dry 20 degree environment to consume their nicotine and carbon monoxide.
(insert tone of extreme sarcasm here) Sigh. So, while the show itself was enjoyable, the dense second-hand smoke was
not, and we left early (at Yotam's behest - he both a smoker
and an Israeli) in search of clean air elsewhere.
The next day was gorgeous as well, and we made for the beach, a novel experience for me. I have never been to a beach where it was actually hot, and in March no less! Yes, I summered in Goose Rocks Beach, Maine for many years with
View from Above
Looking down at the posh 'hood. my family, but I assure you, the Atlantic coastline in Maine is an arctic tundra (as beautiful as it is) when compared to the warm Mediterranean waters of Tel Aviv. So, we lay on the sand and soaked in the rays of warmth, until the sun began to sink into the water and we decided to make our way home, back to the clean quiet of the Jordan Valley. Sitting on our balcony eating dinner that night, I reflected on our time in the big city with positivity, it was a very enjoyable trip. However, looking up at the starry night, and listening to the sound of near silence, I am happy to live in a place where nature reigns in all of Her glory, yet is only a short car ride from all of the delights of urbanity. Simply put, life is good...
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