Natalia would arrive this evening at around 9:30 p.m., so this day was my chance to, as quickly and efficiently as I could, get my hands on Tel-Aviv, and get a vague sense of the lay of the land. In this task, I believe I succeeded.
Even though, as usual, after a restless night sleep, I did not wake up until after 10:00 a.m., thus missing breakfast. And emerged outside into painfully hot and humid weather. I walked down Allenby Road to an internet cafe, and from there called Verizon in hopes of getting my Blackberry to work without using "Roaming." In this I was entirely unsuccessful.
An observation: Tel-Aviv is a little dirtier, for lack of a better word, than I expected. That is, it almost has a bit of a third world feel to it (this may partially be due to the heat). There is a certain smell that comes up from the street, many of the buildings look old.
Another observation: I thought that Tel-Aviv was supposed to be a super modern, western city, as opposed to religious Jerusalem. I have since discovered that it is MUCH less religious than Jerusalem, but I was shocked at how many yarmulkeled men I saw walking down the street.
Another observation: A lot of old Jews.
Another observation: Strange to see poor/homeless Jews on the street begging for money.
Another observation: There are many attractive women on the streets of Tel-Aviv.
Another: The young men are strikingly cheesy.
I walked down Allenby until I reached what I believe to have been the Carmel Market. This Carmel Market was lined up along a covered alleyway, people selling fruit, nuts, pastries, cheap clothes, and begging for money. I didn't buy anything, but it was a "cultural experience" and I good chance to get out of the sun.
Upon emerging from the market, I was inspired to purchase a glass of fresh squeezed carrot juice from a vendor for approximately 2 dollars or maybe 2 dollars 50 cents. The same glass of carrot juice would have cost me about 6 dollars at my gym, and it would have been sold based on its aging reversing anti-oxidants (a word so overused and misunderstood that it sometimes deters me from purchase). The carrot juice was delicious, and I was almost tempted to follow up with a glass of pomegranate juice.
Another observation. In Tel-Aviv, I've had a good deal of juice, all of it fresh squeezed, and there has been no hoighty toighty, fancy talk about the fact that it is fresh squeezed. The fact that it really isn't that complicated to run a few oranges through a squeezer seems to be acknowledged here, and for this I was happy.
I spent about 10 minutes after that lost in a small neighborhood with narrow streets, mazelike, with little shade. I was glad to get out and find my way to Rothschild Street, one of the major avenues of Tel-Aviv. Immediately, I found an outdoor espresso shack, planted myself on a stool, and continued reading Freedom, while the vendor played the Sunset Rubdown from his speakers. A glass of sparkling water came for free. Very nice!
Rothschild Street was worth walking down once, although there didn't seem to be as much going on as I had expected. I was very much impressed by the thick, shady trees lining the street, making it bearable in the unbelievable heat. I saw runners, women with strollers, couples, etc., and I listened to my iPod now. I walked past a cafe where I saw an old women dressed in 1920s style with thick, dark lipstick on.
When I crossed Dizengoff Street, once called the Champs Elysees of Tel-Aviv, and which I understand according to Wikipedia has declined since the 1970s, I turned left, and walked for a long time again past shoe shops, jewelry shops, money changing places with signs in Russian, cafes, but none of the falafel stands I had been hoping for. I did find a place to eat (the name I cannot remember), and had an omelet, one of those chopped middle eastern salads, a bottle of beet/apple juice, grilled eggplant, two large pieces of bread with jam, tahini and a small bowl of olives, which leads to another observation: Serving sizes in Israel are HUGE and not ridiculously expensive. Crazy value. These serving sizes are bigger than anywhere I've seen in America besides the Cheesecake Factory (which are truly sickening).
At one point, I kicked a dog by mistake because I stopped looking at the ground for just a few seconds. I felt really, really bad about this, and shouted out an apology.
When I got to what I believed was north enough, I turned left and walked down the beach until I found a spot I found satisfactory. I paid the 12 shekels for a chair to sit in, and the 50 shekels for a mojito to drink, while sitting on a very pretty beach (the water turned out to be very warm), and reading Freedom. I also eavesdropped on a conversation between what seemed to be an absolutely slimey youngish American guy and an irritatingly empty American girl. They seemed to be aggressively flirting with each other (which normally I have no problem with), except there seemed to be nothing redeeming about each such that the other would desire to continue such flirtation.
I returned to the hostel, took a shower, washed the sand off (most of it), spent an hour at the computer, charged my blackberry (just in case I felt like incurring roaming charges), and got back on Allenby, and walked towards the Nana Cafe, recommended by my friend Jonathan. Because it was only about 6:30, it was fairly empty when I arrived, but I was kept company by the bartendress/waitress Shira (sp?), who recommended the lamb burger (EXCELLENT), a trappist beer (familiar, but good), and two glasses of Israeli wine (!!). She gave me some recommendations about Israel (there are many orthodox in Jerusalem, Beersheba is boring, I do not need to go to Eilat), her perceptions of America (Brooklyn is all Orthodox, right? Not all? Then mostly, right?). family history (parents from Morocco), opinions on traveling to cold locations (never!) I also discovered that I had never made the connection that "L'chaim" is not just something you say before you drink, but the Hebrew form of "cheers!" (I asked to say "cheers" in Hebrew, and felt foolish when I heard this word I already knew). Laster in the evening, I met the owner of the restaurant and his girlfriend, who told me about how he had used to live in Los Angeles, near Jerry's Famous Deli on Ventura, and about how he wasn't kosher back then (but is now).
I walked back to the hostel, and read for about half an hour while waiting for Natalia to arrive. Which she did, sometimes after 10:00. After confirming that the hostel was acceptable, we took a walk to the ocean, swam (water was warm!), and got falafel sandwich from the same guy I dealt with the night before. We thought about going out, but it was already 1:00 a.m., and we felt like getting a good start on the next day, which we kind of did.
Indigo Girls -- Land of Canaan
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