Tel Aviv — Day 3
42 — we all know it’s the meaning of life now, don’t we? It should then be abundantly clear to me why it is that it continues to pop up more often than I’d consider normal. Look up, there it is again. A mystery that will hopefully be solved in the not-to-distant future. I, like many of you, was 42 once, seems like a lifetime ago. The irony, be conscious of it and nothing will be revealed, let it go and who knows?
Like London, Tel Aviv is a metropolitan city drawing people from all corners. Baring the language, I feel a similarity which may attribute to the ease with which I’ve found myself able to write on a routine basis, something I had a harder time doing while in Southern Africa. Whatever it is I’m grateful, will just go with it. My plan for a book remains on the shelf for now as I’m still formulating the concept, finding my way as a writer, the process of which I continue to enjoy regardless of its inherent challenges. While in South Africa, the country of my formative years, I thought I’d be inspired to work on it since it will be based there, however, it just didn’t materialize. I’m relying on my subconscious to keep at it, formulate my vision, while I continue, through this medium, to hone my craft.
Settled in with my Americano, apparently, a term coined in WWII by American soldiers stationed in Italy wanting a watered-down version of the all-too-strong espresso they were being served, a bowl of muesli with yogurt and fruit. ‘Do you have anything other than green apples?’ ‘We have prune’ the guy tells me ‘that’s good for people our age’ my witty retort. Translation a wonderful thing, my bowl arrives with plums, well both start with a P so all good.
Typing away I’m approached by a young man, ‘What do you understand if I tell you?’ He, like many here, is a software engineer and entrepreneur working on a solution for software project management for none other than, entrepreneurs. We have an enjoyable conversation, he connects us via LinkedIn. Soon after a guy settles in next to me, I’m sitting in a ‘pew’. ‘Am I moving your seat when I move?’ he asks. We have a conversation touching on many of the issues of our time, he with two young kids, like so many, wants a better world for them. Unlike South Africa, there is but one official language here, however, most are able to hold conversations in English since they are heavily invested in the global economy.
Back down to the beach, no terrorist causing a blockade, I make my way north towards the newer parts of the city. Being Friday it’s the beginning of the weekend, lots of people, dressed/undressed for the weather, the beach. For a change, I see a guy wearing a New England Patriots hat, ‘do you like them?’ He has no idea ‘Baseball’ he says, then thanks me for the lesson in American Football logos. Next person accosting him will be suitably surprised assuming he cares to recall. Yankees, as in all the places I’ve been, continue to dominate. Scooters wiz by, people of all kinds sharing the boardwalk. Could be any seaside town anywhere in the world. An amazing planet we are so very fortunate to inhabit.
Not all are afforded the luxury of traipsing around scantily clad. No problem, say a group of women who, hopefully their choice, are covered head to toe, sitting, wading, frolicking, (sacre bleu!), in the cool, salty, gentle surf.
Restaurants have laid claim to swaths of beach, fortunately, some are quite expansive allowing plenty room for bathers. Some do just that, sun worship, most busy, showing off their ample skills attempting to keep a soccer ball in the air, beach bats, the rage back in my youth, still in vogue although the sound emanating not quite the same given advances in equipment. The parasailers are having a field day skipping across the water at speed. In the parks abutting the shore, activity abounds. A group of drummers has congregated for a mass jam. Throbbing infectious, as those around rendered powerless, can’t help but ‘feel-the-beat’. A couple of women are making the rounds with small paper cups, an elixir guaranteed to enhance.
This is a city in constant flux. Will it ever end? Juxtaposition of old new so pronounced. Looking over to see a mosque filling the skyline only to be flanked, dwarfed by no less than a half dozen massive cranes signaling in the future. It’s crowded here, nowhere to go but up, closer and closer to heaven.
‘Are you on the street with trees?’ a guy says, asking his ride where he might locate him. A bit odd given every street I’ve been on has trees. Not sure if this is a result of a communication gap or just exasperation as he was late for something. He had his suitcase in tow, hope he doesn’t suffer from Flying Anxiety. I’m making my way to a bar located near the newish Habima Theater, a modern version of an old Russian Hebrew theater forced to relocate from Moscow cause this is what Jews inevitably are encouraged to do.
The bar, attended by an indirect relative, is apparently one of the older ones around in what is a relatively young city, often host to exhausted performers in need of a pick-me-up. Ceviche, balanced with a bowl of fries, can’t just go cold turkey on my new Med Diet, is delicious. Ladies next to me, Israeli, now living in Los Angeles. Lots of ties with the US which houses in excess of 50% of the Jews. Interestingly enough more Jews still live outside Israel which about 30% call home.
It’s been a long day, lots of miles (kilometers) covered, the excitement however not quite over. My route back along Rothchilds Boulevard, a major street, brings with it a glimpse into this city’s evening activities. It continues to stay warm in the evenings bringing many out to eat, drink, walk, talk. The design is pure city with the traffic divided by a large expanse catering to walkers and bikers. There are play areas on this ‘island’ some food stands. Part of the entertainment for the evening is a man clad in Adidas sweats, did they sponsor him?, darting back and forth yelling something at the fully clad, bald-headed, policeman attempting to ‘talk’ to him. Some stop to observe, ‘this is hilarious’ I hear one young woman tell her friends.
The balance of my trip home a lot less eventful. Tomorrow, who knows, so much to see.
