Day 33: I'm in Tel-Aviv!

I left my laptop in the village so I'm not going to pretend that I didn't and had it with me in Tel Aviv. I have lots of pictures and footage so I'll share some of them here. Here we go.

Friday, Jan.14th

Woke up relaxed and lazy. I was supposed to leave earlier than 10 but still I did a pretty good prep work for my trip. With a pack of veggie noodles, two shirts, money and my cameras, I was at the village square waiting for a car to take me to Ramla train station or even better to Tel Aviv. It's a warm and pretty day. I'm determined to do this today. I won't be back here until late Saturday. Alas, I waited at least for an hour for a car and finally got a ride for Ramla station. The train was comfy and I was confident that I wouldn't be missing my stop, since the ticket seller told me Tel Aviv is the last stop. We passed 3 stops that include Tel Aviv in their names. Then there was no Tel Aviv. I missed it! It was just two stops but still, I had to take another train from Herziyya back to Tel Aviv. Took a bus that would take me to Old Jaffa. The goal is to to find the two hostels and book a room in one of them. For that I needed to know where to get off at. This gentleman said he'd tell me, so I was standing in front of the door in the middle, watching the road. Suddenly the bus driver SCREAMED at the microphone! I think it was about me because everyone in the bus looked at me. Pretty embarrassing and yet funny situation. Apparently I wasn't supposed to stand that close to the door. Anyway, after passing by a neighborhood where I saw mostly African blacks and Asians, I got off at Florentine Street. Looks like an artsy fartsy place, lots of young people that look like students to me, wandering around, enjoying the sun, riding their low-seat bikes. Makes sense, it's shabat. I saw this cute little open air cafe called the Kabina at the beginning of Florentine:

I asked the two girls working there the way to Florentine Hostel. A guy sitting at the bar said he knew where it was and he could take me there after finishing his coffee. So I ordered some coffee for myself, started chatting with Guy [(that's the name of the guy, get it? :) ] and Yael, one of the coffee girls. Introducing myself is something I've been doing by heart. Yael was excited to find out I'm from Turkey. Her parents are apparently from Turkey too, Sephardic Jews. She even speaks a little bit of Turkish! Gave me her number, I might actually crush on her couch next time. After a while me and Guy left for Florentine Hostel. On the way we talked a little bit. Nice guy. (Huh! This is going to be funny.) He's studying sound engineering, working at a restaurant on the weekends. His family is Jewish but when I asked him what he was, he said he didn't know what he was. Doesn't like talking about politics. Came from a small town, a moshav to be more specific. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moshav) I don't know him, and this is merely based on my first impression of him but he stroke me as someone who is keen on communicating people almost to the point of pushing yourself into it, and yet he may not be actually enjoying it? Maybe that's because I felt some kind of a tension in his behavior when he said he doesn't like talking about politics that they're too complex to talk about while walking around. Anyway, I'm probably wrong. What do I know about people?

Finally Florentine Hostel. (http://florentinehostel.com/) Much cheaper than the Old Jaffa Hotel I've been wanting to stay in. And when I saw the street and he building of this one, I had a strong urge to pay more but stay at a nicer place. Then again, I just needed a place to sleep, unnecessary to pay twice as much. Two stories up, there's the reception area with the kitchen, the cute terrace, bathrooms and dorms. Girls dorm has two bunk beds and a single bed. I got one of the top beds (being tiny has some advantages in this world of hostels). Paid 66 Shekels, was told by Rafi the owner to come back around 7 to check in. He didn't want to do it at that moment. He's in his late 30s, looked way too sleepy and hangover to function, I can tell from the green arm band he's wearing that he was at a club last night.  Guy said he didn't have to go to work until 5, so he can accompany me to Jaffa and have lunch with me. It's only a 10-minute walk from the hostel, and I carefully memorized the way since I had to come back by myself after dark. Seeing the old clock tower I realized we arrived at the old city. It's famous. I wanted to have lunch first and thought a local would know a good place to go. We had lunch at this place called "Dr. Shakshuka." Very delicious, very. Check out the website for pictures, I really like the place: http://drshaksuka.rest-e.co.il/  After lunch Guy left for work and I started my Old Jaffa tour!

Leisurely I walked up the David Raziel Road, checking out some side streets and houses. Some, like this one above, have entrance doors with no walls around it. I found this interesting. I don't know if this door was actually what's left from the previous building there:

It's getting dark and I really want to see the sea, the Mediterranean. Entering the old port / old city from Mazal Shor Street. I now have an Old Jaffa map but it stayed in my backpack for a while; I like getting lost, making instinctual choices, trying to get a sense of this old labyrinth. Several narrow pathways, with pinkish cobble stones and stone buildings. 

Soon you realize that most of these houses are actually art galleries, handicraft shops and art collectors.   Most shops are closed, it's shabat shalom. It's as if I'm the only person here. I like the feeling. I'm in Alaaddin's story. Heh! Well, this whole art gallery thing may become irritating after a while. Too refine, too pretentious, too invasive. I would have liked it more if they were given to local craftspeople, by local I mean both Jews and Arabs. The old folk. Not the "100 Shekels for a ceramic hamsa just because I made it" fiddle faddle. Anyway, the blue, ceramic street signs inside the old city (more so the gallery area) were named after zodiac signs. Here are some examples for you:

I finally made it to the port right before it got dark. The old historical Jaffa Port. Here's a google image search for you, just so know what I'm talking about: http://www.google.com.tr/images?q=Jaffa+port&hl=tr&prmd=ivns&source=lnms&tbs=isch:1&ei=8hIzTbDEOoaZOun6xLUC&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&cd=2&ved=0CBAQ_AUoAQ&biw=807&bih=607

The sea makes me feel cozy. I stood there for quite a while, looking straight into the sea, all romantic. Tried to think about things, but I couldn't do anything other than staring at the sea and thinking about the sea. And it relaxed me. Duh! Some old guys were fishing, they had flashlights on their foreheads. Old Jaffa is magnificent under the moon and the street lights. Walking along the port, I came to an area that looks like a shipyard. That's when I heard some classical music coming from a dimly lit workshop. First I saw the model light houses in the display window. Then I saw a man, sanding a white light house  made out of chalk-like material. I asked him if I could come in and look around. He smiled and kindly said yes. There were antic lamps and light houses in this super cool, and personal workshop. I really wanted to take pictures but couldn't even dare to ask and disturb him. Thought I could come the next day and take some pictures then. But as soon as I got out, I just couldn't resist any longer and took this. Walked back to the port, gazed at the people biking. I WANT A BIKE! *deep sighs* I caught sight of a small sign that says "To the Old Jaffa." It's a different entrance/exit, so I took it. An interesting jewelry store it leads to. Huh! They're using silver, gold and clay. I like the hamsas, too expensive though.While I was looking at the colorful hamsas, a Russian couple walked in. They had a debate with the girls in the shop about calling the necklaces goldfilled or goldfil. Very fun to watch. We got out together and talked about. They're Russian American, living in Jersey, have a boy studying at Boston University. The guy is proud of being a Jew. Arie and Irene.

It's almost 7PM. I thought it's best to go back to the hostel, get some good sleep and start Saturday early. I started walking back to the Clock Tower. Have I told you about the Napoleon statues all around the old city, pointing at some important landmarks related to his siege back in 1799? The statues are shorter than me, but then again, maybe so would the real Napoleon. On the way, I stopped by a pastry shop where a Palestinian man sells knafa. This is, as far as I know, Ottoman. And it's one of my favorites, despite the fact that it's too sweet for my taste. But I wanted to try a half of what they normally serve. They also have Turkish delight and baklava. Not as interesting as knafa, or rather kunefe. When they found out I was Turkish, I got the knafa for free. Sweet! The guy's younger assistant asked me if I like Polat Alemdar. This is the idiot character in the "Valley of Wolves", that Turkish film (and TV show) that had irritating scenes about Israel. I kindly said I hate him, and then tried to explain why I hate him. Then the store owner said something about how the Jews should also leave the Old Jaffa to the Arabs for during the war people had to leave but never given the permit to come back. But I was way to tired to discuss Erdogan government and the stuff about Old Jaffa now, so I left as soon as I finished my kunefe. I thanked them for their kindness and started walking back to the hostel. I saw, but didn't hear, the thunder. It started raining like crazy 5 minutes after I started reading my book at the terrace. We had a tent canvas above us so it was all right. I could only read couple of pages; the hostel is full, lots of fun people to talk to. And I do talk a lot. First it was me and this guy called Ben. He's from Boston, didn't study anything, traveling a lot, got family here, came to Haifa for a wedding. Nope, he doesn't know Ido, nor ever trained capoeira. Then a hematologist girl from Russia joined us. She's from St. Petersburg, came here for 2 weeks. Can't remember her name though. Then Matt came, a Canadian history student studying in Leeds, UK. On vacation after his finals. Greg is a Scottish traveler, didn't get much of his story. I finished the night talking to Anne, a French massage therapist who wants to move to Israel. She's not Jewish, but her "guts" told her this is where she should be. It's been 15 years she hasn't lived in France. Practicing m. therapy with trauma patients and victims of violence. Lived in Argentina and Malta, and just came to Israel last week. She talks very passionately about massage therapy and her "target group" but she hasn't found enough sponsorship yet. I told her that getting in touch with the relevant departments at the universities might help but I'm really not sure if it does.  It's interesting though. I climbed up to my bed around 1AM, already thinking about tomorrow. I checked the weather online, it's not rainy tomorrow.