Time out in Tel Aviv

Wednesday + Thursday, February 12 + 13

Lea, Clara and I sleep in a bit longer, have a cozy breakfast, take another look at Ramallah from a bird's eye view from the hostel rooftop, and then walk to the bus stop. Once again, I realize how much I love the busy, loud, and lively streets of Ramallah. Unfortunately, we don't have time to linger in every city forever. Today we continue to Tel Aviv.

After a short stop in Jerusalem, we get on a minibus that takes us straight to the center of Tel Aviv. Upon arrival, we are greeted with a complete contrast in every way: unlike the freezing Ramallah, here we are welcomed by the warm sun. The streets are clean and well-maintained, hip young people sit in trendy bars, and there is a big city feel. The conflict that we have been intensely engaged with in the past days does not seem to exist here. But it's also good for us to take a break from it all once in a while.

After about 2 km of walking, we reach the "Florentine Hostel," which is unsurprisingly located in the Florentine district. It's exactly how you would imagine a hostel: brightly painted walls, friendly volunteers who take the hostel guests to a club every night, and a large communal area with a rooftop terrace that invites relaxation. We settle into our room and then walk to the waterfront to watch the evening sky over the beautiful coast of Tel Aviv. Afterwards, we relax with a drink near the sea, then later, we attend a Dancehall party in a small club situated in a very cozy courtyard complex. Dancing feels good. Really good.

The next day basically consists of sleeping in, letting the sun shine on our faces from the hostel rooftop terrace, and strolling through Tel Aviv's streets and the flea market. It's refreshing to do nothing but admire beautiful jewelry in long market lanes and colorful graffiti on garage doors. We make a stop at the famous hummus place Abu Hassan in between and then head back to the sea as the sun sets.

Just before reaching the beach, we make a small detour to a café on the promenade to grab a coffee to go and use the restroom. When I ask about the restroom, I initially don't get an answer, so I reflexively repeat it in Arabic. Actually, we try to avoid using our Arabic phrases as much as possible on the Israeli side – you never know who you might encounter. But sometimes it just slips out.

While I'm already regretting saying the Arabic word "Hamam" in that moment, his reaction is unexpected. "Hamam??! Hamam!! You speak Arabic!!!" I don't think anyone has ever been so excited about this word. The café owner comes out from behind his counter and dances with me through his shop. Obviously, he is Palestinian, and obviously it is rare for someone to speak Arabic to him here. Sometimes, it's the little things that brighten up your everyday life.