Final Day in Tel Aviv

 The morning after my excursion to Jerusalem I got to sleep in. Dad had to finish his time at his conference, so he woke up in the morning and left me be. I relaxed for a few hours, but by midday it was time to adventure some more. 

The conference, remember, was held in Rehovot, a town about 45 mins southeast of Tel Aviv. The conference organizers were splendid, partially because they had a lot of money to splurge on the attendees. This is because, from what I’ve gathered, they draw their money from a foundation wherein some rich person/people entrusted their fortune to be spent on science, technology, conferences, and the like. Plus it’s general Israeli policy to show non-Israelis how great Israel is. 

So therefore we (as in the conference goers, as in not me really, except that at this point I’ve been adopted by the Society as an honorable conference guest because I’ve been eating their dinners and snacks this whole time) had a big day ahead. The organizers set up this long day of tourism for us. At noon a tour bus came and toted all of us to Tel Aviv. Along the way a tour guide, who was phenomenally funny, told us tales of the land. Like the history of the Jaffa orange, the ins and outs of Israel’s water supply and usage (which is just such a big deal), and some other basic history of the reverse diaspora. 

Our guide also made sure to chat for a second about the elephant in the room that is the potentially offensive nature of his little jokes, being as the history of Israel is such a touchy subject. He ended this though with a quote that I wrote down immediately, “But just know that if you feel offended at some point today- You are offended, I did not offend you.”

Ok the tour bus driver dumps us all out at Jaffa Port, where we are escorted from little spot to little spot to hear certain little stories. Including a story involving the rocks you can see just off the coastline. He said these are the rocks that the Greek princess Andromeda was chained to and rescued from by Perseus. (I’m fact checking that now and everyone is calling the location of this event “Ethiopia,” which has confused me for 15 minutes. But to the Greeks Ethiopia was right there in Palestine at that time??) 

We followed this man like goslings through the old port and into the modern city of Tel Aviv. We had two armed guards in tow. They were introduced to us as medics. 

Eventually we get to the Food & Drink portion of the tour, which thank god because I’m always hungry. Our main guide is switched out with a new boy who is very passionate about foods and drinks. He began taking us through the windy streets of downtown Tel Aviv. First, through a gift market, with locally made crafts. Then to a little local sausage and bar joint. Next we scooted through the old fresh market, Shuk HarCarmel. This was the least-modern-looking space I’d seen since I’d arrived in the country, but that’s by design!! It’s a local legend, with the shop-owners technically being considered illegal squatters. There’s just no record of who owns what, never has been! A charming  market with no rules, no written records, and a busted crusty corrugated tin roof. Made for a splendid little stroll. 

We ate at a fish & chips spot here in the market, while our guide explained the weird legality of the place. 

I’ve not had an alcoholic drink in a year and a half, and my Dad’s not drinking either, so we were very pleased to always be greeted with a virgin version of whatever cocktails were being discussed throughout the afternoon.

Next up- Yemen. Yemen is a country way out there at the end of the Arabian peninsula. At some point the Jews traveled out that way. Then they came back. So Tel Aviv is home to a Yemenite Quarter that’s keeping their culture alive. I’d never had Yemeni food until this night. The restaurant we visited for this bit was owned by Yemenites whose cooking technique involves heating a big pot of soup up with basically a tea candle, which means they have to cook it for 24 hours. They’d made big batches for us beforehand. I had some of their typical breads and a bowl of yummy salty bean soup. 

Next, the Ethiopian coffee. The woman in charge of this last stop was a former fashion model from Ethiopia. Again, some of the Jewish people had moved down to Ethiopia, but have come back in relatively recent years. This woman, beautiful and successful as a model, quit her career because she knew she was actually called to share her culture with the people of the world. So she opened this restaurant. Full of passion, she explained to us the monumental importance of family coffee time. She said the 2.5 hour process of roasting, grinding, and soaking the coffee beans was a time for family and was cherished by all. The importance of this tradition is paramount. After this explanation, she served us all authentic Ethiopian coffee. Wow, bliss. It was dark, and I knew I’d have trouble sleeping, but I had to go in for seconds. Now, she did say that Ethiopian food is so good that you don’t need dessert, but she still served us little breads with honey on them as a treat. 

This coffee break was had out on the street in front of the restaurant. There were too many of us to fit in the place. But we all chatted and sipped our little cups of coffee. At some point during this, a few loud bangs rattled out from behind the bushes along the adjacent street. Our ‘medics’, who’d been enjoying the free drinky drinks throughout the afternoon, sprang into action, dipping around the bend to check out the cause of the noise. ‘Twas nothing, of course; just a man throwing out some large pieces of plywood. But the tension in our group was a bit high for just a moment there. 

The bus came to get us after this. Tomorrow Dad and I were renting a car and driving all the way across the country.