Design Anthology - Asia Pacific Edition
A Postcard of the Past
A flâneur is an urban explorer — a connoisseur of the street. In our rotating column, guests share their musings, observations and critiques of the urban environment in cities around the world. In this issue, travel writer Theresa Christine shows us a side to Tel Aviv that left her feeling at peace
‘If there's one word I want you to know while you're here,' my guide advised when we met in the hotel lobby, ‘it's shalom. It's how we say hello and goodbye, but its literal translation is peace.'
Peace isn't the first thing I associated with Israel — but as it turns out,Tel Aviv is full of surprises. When I imagined the city, I envisioned street after street of worn, faded facades and quiet locals in modest dress. Instead, I discovered people lounging beachside and soaking up the sun, warmly greeting friends for a relaxed al fresco lunch at the latest cafe, or partying with fervour well into the night.
Despite my naive, narrow view of this part of the world, everyone insisted Tel Aviv is a modern city. And they were right, sort of.
Take Neve Tzedek, a posh neighbourhood filled with boutiques selling high-end, handmade jewellery, one-of-a-kind art and elegant home goods. The main drag, Shabazi Street, was exactly the picture of a modern city I'd heard it is. Lush ivy blankets the storefronts as morning light casts a golden glow on the clean streets — photographs wouldn't even do the tranquil scene justice.
Wandering into the nearby neighbourhood of Florentin, I sensed a shift as properties became more dilapidated and streets less orderly; Tel Aviv's up-and-coming bohemian district has more edge. At times I found myself wandering empty streets alone, even in broad daylight, admiring the colourful spray-painted murals that pop against the sandy, sun-worn buildings. Interspersed throughout the streets are cosy coffee shops inviting passers-by to pause and enjoy the quiet.
These coexisting realities meet mere blocks away at the bustling Rothschild Boulevard. One of the first established streets in Tel Aviv, this artery pulses with the life of a simpler time. I watched residents laugh with friends as they casually strolled down the tree-lined pedestrian walkway, flanked on either side by sleek Bauhaus architecture. Lining the path, however, were groups of dockless e-scooters, a fresh-on-the-scene mode of transportation in Tel Aviv. An endless stream of them zoomed by, some no doubt destined for the wares at the Jaffa flea market or the mouth-watering fare at Sarona market.
I hopped on one myself to head west, where the edge of the city kisses the Mediterranean. The promenade led to Gordon Beach, where I saw sunseekers playing volleyball, dining at a laidback waterfront cafe or reclining on the sand. And while this vibrant, modern city sprawled behind me, what I saw here was a postcard from the past. Faded beach umbrellas dotting the waterfront. Pristine water for miles. A place and a people so carefree that the stresses of modern life simply washed out to sea.
Leaning back on my elbows with eyes closed, I felt the sand grind between my toes, smelt the salt in the air and listened as waves crashed on the shore. I found peace.