18. Markets, Meandering, and… 1/5/23. Jaffa
Greetings from Jaffa, Israel-
We began the day with a fabulous breakfast at the Market House Hotel in the flea market area of Jaffa. The hotel is extremely (!!!) family-friendly (and dog-friendly), with kids jumping on the couches in the lobby and lots of baby carriages. Also, one guest who always has her dog with her; either she or the dog (or both) are from Russia, but now lives in Brooklyn, based on our very limited conversation on the elevator. The hotel is pretty eclectic, but good for us. Breakfast was both a buffet and also additional ordering (we ordered the shakshuka—naturally!). The buffet had everything from lox and herring to salads to fruits to dips and cheeses, and of course breads and pastries, including two kinds of babkas. Definitely, a feast. And then we walked. Mike decided to take it easy to try to get rid of his cold, so he opted to sit in the sun in a nearby park. And I (who arrived in Cairo with a cold, three weeks ago but finally kicked it with Claritin and Flonase) meandered the streets of Jaffa (Yafo in Hebrew; Yafa in Arabic).
Jaffa is the southernmost and oldest part of Tel Aviv (and it seems that many people refer to it as Tel Aviv-Yafo; it’s a port city that is associated with many biblical stories and also mythological stories, It’s also known for its oranges. My mini-research effort says that approximately 37% of the city is Arab. The city’s history is complicated and I’m sure many of you reading this know a great deal more than I about the many different controversies surrounding the area over centuries. (And today, many just see Jaffa as an extension of Tel Aviv, but I think it is a lot more distinct than that.) I believe that Jaffa’s seaport is more than 4,000 years old (oldest harbor in continual use?) Because only small ships could enter the port’s narrow entrance, Jaffa eventually ceased to function as a trading harbor and now it’s home to small, local fishing boats and some small yachts. But as you meander the little streets and alleyways, it’s easy to imagine it filled with traders who arrived by sea transferring goods to camel caravans destined for Cairo, Jerusalem, and beyond. In any case, as I understand it, Jaffa always had a large Arab population; in the last half of the 20th Century, it was home to impoverished Arabs and Jewish immigrants from Arab countries.
I’ll skip the very complicated history that dates back to 14th Century BCE when the Egyptians were in power and all of the power switches with the Roman Empire and the crusaders and Napoleon and the Ashkenazi Jews coming from Europe in the 19th Century and settling here in Jaffa and cholera and the founding of Tel Aviv close by and expulsion of the population of Jaffa (Jews and Muslims) by orders of the Ottoman Empire and riots in the 1920s and Arab-Jewish unrest in the 30s and the Zionist takeover of Jaffa to incorporate it into the new state of Israel. But in 1968 a decision was made to rebuild Jaffa and old buildings were restored and parks were created. Naturally, it became filled with artist studios and galleries and lots of shops… and then young professionals followed, moving into modernized apartments in ancient buildings. The old harbor was restored, and tons of restaurants emerged; the old railway station is now home to restaurants as well. It’s a lively place, but I can’t help but wonder where all those low-income families (Arab and Jewish) went.
There are lots of murals that were probably vibrant a decade ago but are now fading and peeling; the galleries display pretty amateur art; and the prices of most goods are pretty high (unless they are “tacky.”) Still, it’s a fun place to be. I strolled through the flea market, which is really a web of streets lined with small shops. It’s an easy place to stroll and difficult to get lost, unlike places like the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul and the alleyways of cities and towns in Tunisia and Morocco or the African markets (really series of stalls) in cities like Nairobi. This is more similar to the souk at Khan al Khalili we just saw in Cairo, except that the streets are paved and the infrastructure is in good repair. It’s definitely a first world country, although I’m guessing that will not be the case when we visit Palestine and the West Bank in a few days (during our stay in Jerusalem).
Some of you asked about my comment a few days ago about never having visited Israel before this, given that I have travelled a lot. I’ll try to sum it up without going into a long personal autobiography:
I was raised in a Jewish household but we never belonged to a temple of synagogue; my father was quite schooled in Hebrew; my parents both spoke Yiddish when they didn’t want me or my brother to understand what they were saying—a great encouragement to try to learn some Yiddish. We ate “Jewish foods” and celebrated the holidays (without going to temple). My family were Ashkenazi Jews hailing from Romania (maternal side) and Poland (paternal side). If you grew up in NYC (Brooklyn) when I did and where I did (Boro Park), everyone was either Jewish or Italian—and we were sort of the same, except that they had Xmas trees and they had to study catechism. My brother was Bar Mitzvah-ed and forced to go to Hebrew school which he hated. It was never even discussed if I should go to Hebrew school because I was a girl. I was already in college when my brother had his Bar Mitzvah in a small Orthodox synagogue in our neighborhood. When I arrived for the ceremony, I was told I needed to go upstairs. Naturally, I protested and said I was the sister and needed to sit close in but was ushered upstairs. Frankly, and I’m not sure my brother even knows this, I left after a few minutes and came back for the party. My first sense that Jews (well, ok, Orthodox Jews) are sexist. My family never traveled (Pennsylvania was a big, exotic trip to see relatives in Philadelphia) so no one in my family ever went to Israel, and frankly I had no interest in coming here over all these years of travel to other places around the world. I was, however, (surprise, surprise) married by two rabbis in a reformed temple in Manhattan, and that was important to me at the time. So, firstly, I’m one of those Jews who doesn’t feel any attachment to Israel. According to some new poll, I’m part of the 16% of American Jews who feel that a connection to Israel is not essential to being Jewish.
And, from a political point of view, I have never supported the politics nor the actions of Israel over the years. Indeed I have been critical of its actions during my lifetime – the 1967 six-day war and its current occupation of the West Bank, East Jerusalem, and the Gaza strip.
Over these many years, I have rejected traveling in several countries—I didn’t go to Spain until after Franco died; I didn’t go to Chile until Pinochet was out of power; I didn’t go to South Africa until the end of apartheid. Still, I can be charged with inconsistency; I visited the Soviet Union in 1972 when Brezhnev was in power, and traveled to numerous Latin American countries whose governments were less than acceptable. And maybe that’s part of the reason I didn’t travel to Israel until now; I hoped for more from a country that has some kind of potential personal connection to me, But, hey, I expect more of my own country, and I continue to live there (albeit trying to be part of efforts to change our country).
Way too much information, and way too little on the fact side. I’m here now at this moment (despite it probably being the most vile political moment with the installation of Netanyahu and his far-right doctrine) because you only live once, and I’m curious enough to want to see as much of the world as I can. I’m also here because we had decided to go to Egypt and Jordan and Israel was too close not to add it to the itinerary.
OK.. that’s it.. enough soul searching. We’re off to dinner at a place highly recommended by many foodies— Popina.
Stay dry (those of you in CA).
Fern
PS – Mike is very happy to report that there is an abundance of benches in Jaffa and also handrails on the staircases! Small things that apparently can do wonders for one’s spirit.
Fern's Travel Notes 