<p>“What’s in a name?” Shakespeare had once wondered. The rose, the bard thought, would smell as sweet even if we called it by any other name. Perhaps. But cities are not roses. Cities are not about fragrance. Nor of sweet smell. <br /><br /></p>.<p>History lies buried in the heart of every city. And some cities live their past, their conflict, their cheer, their hope in their names. Tangibly. Palpably. Like, Tel Aviv, Israel’s second-most populous city that takes its name from the title of a book. When Nahum Sokolow translated Theodor Herzl’s Altnewland (Old New Land), he adopted the name of a Mesopotamian site near the city of Babylon mentioned in Ezekiel, “Then I came to them of the captivity at Tel Abib that lived by the river Chebar…..” Tel Aviv got its name in 1910 — Tel is a man-made mound accumulating layers of civilisation built one over the other while Aviv is Hebrew for ‘spring’ which is symbolic of renewal. This is one city where there is something in the name. In Tel Aviv, the bard stands corrected. <br /><br />New dimensions<br /><br />If I could soar like a falcon over the 20-sq km city, I could see the tel, the mound that has accumulated over centuries. Not a mound of stone. But an intangible mound of city’s changing fate. And the two worlds that are so anomalous, yet live like cordial next-door neighbours. Tel Aviv, Israel’s financial centre, a start-up hub, an incubator for ideas, a perfect pub hub, a city incredibly courteous to gay and lesbians.<br /><br /> A city with skyscrapers, psychedelic lights, neon signs… Just round the bend is Jaffa, the old city which is part of the Tel Aviv municipality. A city with cobbled pathways, ancient clock tower, arches, souq… A city cluttered with Biblical connections of Jonah, Solomon and Saint Peter. An ancient port where trade thrived. And invaders stepped in. Greeks. Romans. Arabs. Then, one day, Jaffa was forgotten. In this forgetfulness was born the modern city of Tel Aviv. In 1909. The two worlds are a study in contrast, but they are not discordant. In incongruity lives Tel Aviv’s harmony. <br /><br />In Tel Aviv, I begin with the beginning. In the White City which is a collection of 4,000 Bauhaus buildings, a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage Site which is an “outstanding example of new town planning and architecture in the early 20th century.” After the rise of the Nazis in Germany, Jewish architects immigrated to Israel and built houses in the typical Bauhaus style — windows in, balconies out, cubic, loads of right angles, smooth facades, functional, asymmetrical and an open floor plan. I drive by Rothschild Boulevard and gape at old houses that seem caught in a time warp with no aspiration or pretence to turn contemporary chic. In the sycamore-lined street, time sits still in a kiosk — Tel Aviv’s first kiosk that started serving soda in 1910 and now — if you believe the foodies — the best espresso in town. <br /><br />Tasty treats<br /><br />I shunned the espresso for hummus. The best hummus in town at Abu Hassan (Ali Karavan). This is where the hungry head for a triple hummus. Not the mundane hummus that you have ever known. Ask for the triple. Hummus. Full. Masabacha. The plain hummus. The ful (fave beans) hummus spiced with cumin, paprika, olive oil, and some hot pepper sauce on the side. The masabacha laden with tahini, garlic and lemon. At Abu Hassan, the triple comes with fluffy pita and large chunks of onion. The place is so crowded that I had to wait for the table, but the service is so quick that I imagined the servers in black as cats on helium. You order. And food is on the table in a jiffy. I had made it on time. Abu Hassan has a rule — when the hummus of the day finishes, he downs the shutters.<br /><br />Strangely, that warm day in Tel Aviv, I was settling only for the superlatives. The best espresso. The best hummus. And now the best-known artist — Ilana Goor. I step into her Museum where every corner is art. Strange chairs stand against walls. A figurine in pink sits with a knife in her mouth. A long table has countless candle stands. Antique pots and pans hang from a rod. And all over there are portraits of Ilana Goor. I was staring at a painted Ilana when suddenly I was startled by the portrait coming alive. There stood the real Ilana Goor, a 79-year old artist who started her career making arty belt buckles in sterling silver and has travelled to India several times. Under a white parasol, she talks of Mumbai and Delhi. “How much have the cities changed?” Ilana asks. I do not answer. I admire a sculpted monk on the terrace.<br /><br />Tel Aviv is evolving. Assimilating the old into the new. The ancient into the contemporary. And nowhere is it more evident than at the Manshia Train Station in Jaffa which was built in 1892 to link the ancient port town with Jerusalem. Trains no longer chug here; the hoot of the engine has fallen silent. The station was abandoned for 60 years. Now, in the restored Ottoman buildings, I heard the onomatopoeic sound of the shoppers’ stilettos who walk in and out of boutique shops with designer-stuff that dreams are made of. There’s a restaurant that serves 180 different kinds of beer and the four-acre leisure park now resonates with life and laughter of children.<br /><br />When the sun gets ready to dip into the Mediterranean, I sit by the Jaffa port. I think of the old traders of the 19th century. Orange traders — rough estimate is 10 million oranges annually. Soapmakers who hunched hours to make soap bars. Templers who excelled in metal work. Of four shoemakers, three tailors, one silversmith and one watchmaker — the ones that Jewish visitor, L A Frankl, found in 1859. In Tel Aviv, the city was not caught in the time warp. I was. <br /><br />Fact file<br /><br />How to get there<br /><br />El Al Airline has direct Mumbai-Tel Aviv flight. El Al does not allow locked checked-in bags.<br /><br />What to do/see<br /><br />Bauhaus houses + Centre, Rothschild Promenade, Eretz Israel Museum, Ilana Goor Museum, Independence Hall, Great Synagogue. Do a city tour on a Segway. Spare an entire day for Jaffa, the old city. Do a day trip to Caesarea, a historic town. <br /><br />Where/what to eat<br /><br />Abu Hassan (hummus), Dr Shakshuka (shakshuka), Abulafiya (sweet meats, bread, halwa), Mizlala (modern European), Mul-yam (seafood), Toto (Mediterranean). <br /><br />Travel tip<br /><br />If you are in Israel on a Saturday, please respect the Sabbath rules. <br /><br /></p>
<p>“What’s in a name?” Shakespeare had once wondered. The rose, the bard thought, would smell as sweet even if we called it by any other name. Perhaps. But cities are not roses. Cities are not about fragrance. Nor of sweet smell. <br /><br /></p>.<p>History lies buried in the heart of every city. And some cities live their past, their conflict, their cheer, their hope in their names. Tangibly. Palpably. Like, Tel Aviv, Israel’s second-most populous city that takes its name from the title of a book. When Nahum Sokolow translated Theodor Herzl’s Altnewland (Old New Land), he adopted the name of a Mesopotamian site near the city of Babylon mentioned in Ezekiel, “Then I came to them of the captivity at Tel Abib that lived by the river Chebar…..” Tel Aviv got its name in 1910 — Tel is a man-made mound accumulating layers of civilisation built one over the other while Aviv is Hebrew for ‘spring’ which is symbolic of renewal. This is one city where there is something in the name. In Tel Aviv, the bard stands corrected. <br /><br />New dimensions<br /><br />If I could soar like a falcon over the 20-sq km city, I could see the tel, the mound that has accumulated over centuries. Not a mound of stone. But an intangible mound of city’s changing fate. And the two worlds that are so anomalous, yet live like cordial next-door neighbours. Tel Aviv, Israel’s financial centre, a start-up hub, an incubator for ideas, a perfect pub hub, a city incredibly courteous to gay and lesbians.<br /><br /> A city with skyscrapers, psychedelic lights, neon signs… Just round the bend is Jaffa, the old city which is part of the Tel Aviv municipality. A city with cobbled pathways, ancient clock tower, arches, souq… A city cluttered with Biblical connections of Jonah, Solomon and Saint Peter. An ancient port where trade thrived. And invaders stepped in. Greeks. Romans. Arabs. Then, one day, Jaffa was forgotten. In this forgetfulness was born the modern city of Tel Aviv. In 1909. The two worlds are a study in contrast, but they are not discordant. In incongruity lives Tel Aviv’s harmony. <br /><br />In Tel Aviv, I begin with the beginning. In the White City which is a collection of 4,000 Bauhaus buildings, a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage Site which is an “outstanding example of new town planning and architecture in the early 20th century.” After the rise of the Nazis in Germany, Jewish architects immigrated to Israel and built houses in the typical Bauhaus style — windows in, balconies out, cubic, loads of right angles, smooth facades, functional, asymmetrical and an open floor plan. I drive by Rothschild Boulevard and gape at old houses that seem caught in a time warp with no aspiration or pretence to turn contemporary chic. In the sycamore-lined street, time sits still in a kiosk — Tel Aviv’s first kiosk that started serving soda in 1910 and now — if you believe the foodies — the best espresso in town. <br /><br />Tasty treats<br /><br />I shunned the espresso for hummus. The best hummus in town at Abu Hassan (Ali Karavan). This is where the hungry head for a triple hummus. Not the mundane hummus that you have ever known. Ask for the triple. Hummus. Full. Masabacha. The plain hummus. The ful (fave beans) hummus spiced with cumin, paprika, olive oil, and some hot pepper sauce on the side. The masabacha laden with tahini, garlic and lemon. At Abu Hassan, the triple comes with fluffy pita and large chunks of onion. The place is so crowded that I had to wait for the table, but the service is so quick that I imagined the servers in black as cats on helium. You order. And food is on the table in a jiffy. I had made it on time. Abu Hassan has a rule — when the hummus of the day finishes, he downs the shutters.<br /><br />Strangely, that warm day in Tel Aviv, I was settling only for the superlatives. The best espresso. The best hummus. And now the best-known artist — Ilana Goor. I step into her Museum where every corner is art. Strange chairs stand against walls. A figurine in pink sits with a knife in her mouth. A long table has countless candle stands. Antique pots and pans hang from a rod. And all over there are portraits of Ilana Goor. I was staring at a painted Ilana when suddenly I was startled by the portrait coming alive. There stood the real Ilana Goor, a 79-year old artist who started her career making arty belt buckles in sterling silver and has travelled to India several times. Under a white parasol, she talks of Mumbai and Delhi. “How much have the cities changed?” Ilana asks. I do not answer. I admire a sculpted monk on the terrace.<br /><br />Tel Aviv is evolving. Assimilating the old into the new. The ancient into the contemporary. And nowhere is it more evident than at the Manshia Train Station in Jaffa which was built in 1892 to link the ancient port town with Jerusalem. Trains no longer chug here; the hoot of the engine has fallen silent. The station was abandoned for 60 years. Now, in the restored Ottoman buildings, I heard the onomatopoeic sound of the shoppers’ stilettos who walk in and out of boutique shops with designer-stuff that dreams are made of. There’s a restaurant that serves 180 different kinds of beer and the four-acre leisure park now resonates with life and laughter of children.<br /><br />When the sun gets ready to dip into the Mediterranean, I sit by the Jaffa port. I think of the old traders of the 19th century. Orange traders — rough estimate is 10 million oranges annually. Soapmakers who hunched hours to make soap bars. Templers who excelled in metal work. Of four shoemakers, three tailors, one silversmith and one watchmaker — the ones that Jewish visitor, L A Frankl, found in 1859. In Tel Aviv, the city was not caught in the time warp. I was. <br /><br />Fact file<br /><br />How to get there<br /><br />El Al Airline has direct Mumbai-Tel Aviv flight. El Al does not allow locked checked-in bags.<br /><br />What to do/see<br /><br />Bauhaus houses + Centre, Rothschild Promenade, Eretz Israel Museum, Ilana Goor Museum, Independence Hall, Great Synagogue. Do a city tour on a Segway. Spare an entire day for Jaffa, the old city. Do a day trip to Caesarea, a historic town. <br /><br />Where/what to eat<br /><br />Abu Hassan (hummus), Dr Shakshuka (shakshuka), Abulafiya (sweet meats, bread, halwa), Mizlala (modern European), Mul-yam (seafood), Toto (Mediterranean). <br /><br />Travel tip<br /><br />If you are in Israel on a Saturday, please respect the Sabbath rules. <br /><br /></p>
