Yaffo, Tel Aviv

My last days in Israel were not the best ones.
Nothing dramatic happened to me.
No desire to get back to Paris, i checked my flight the early morning before leaving. They have changed the time. That's bohemian life.

graffiti in Yaffo, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

Ten years ago, i spent time in Tel-Aviv: a shabbat, a quick visit of Yaffo at night…
Nothing that i have actually kept in memory.

Kids of Yaffo, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

Hasidic behind a dirty window of a café in Yaffo, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

I enjoy living in big cities because of the culture.
But one thing has changed: i need religious culture more than before.
If i don't feel a certain devotion, i feel like living my faith dangerously.
The majority of families where i rented a room doesn't keep kosher and shabbos.
For the kosher, i was fine, eating outside, too lazy to cook.
I like observing people, like the Parisians do it at the terraces. That's our favorite sport.
Without terraces, Parisians won't be the same.
I socialized in cafés like Israeli.

Hasidic who came to enjoy the view, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

Shul in Yaffo, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein 

Shul in Yaffo, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

I was living in the main street of Yaffo. Across the street, there was a mosque. The muezzin stops at 6:30 pm fortunately.
In Turkey, in Cappadoccia, the muezzin calls for prayers at night too.
The first nights, you think that you are in a horror movie to be waken up in the middle of the night.
The sound is very loud. I too was impressed at the kotel when i heard the muezzin, when the Jews pray in silence.
In Turkey, the muezzin often has a problem of microphone. That was funny sometimes.

Tel Aviv market before Shabbos, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein 

Tel Aviv market before Shabbos, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

Breslev showing his belly, Tel Aviv market before Shabbos, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

Tel Aviv market before Shabbos, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

"Don't worry, i am Jewish", February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

Stealing pistachios at the market before Shabbos , February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

Yaffo is a population mixed with Jews and Arabs. That's a safe neighborhood, i was lost in small streets many times, and i never felt some tensions. Same than in Haifa where Arabs are well integrated.
One middle-aged man talked to me in the street. I thought that i knew him. Shabbos saved me from his hands. I didn't feel to go for a drink with him. He seemed weird. I took his phone number not to hurt him.
On Shabbos, i walked from Yaffo to Tel Aviv. I spent time at the beach, enjoying the sun. Then, walked again and i found by chance the district of old houses. That was nice, but nothing that appealed me devoutly.

Arch of LOVE: if you want to get married go beneath it, same if you want to get divorced,
February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

I spent the last day with my friend from the kibbutz. She showed me another district with old German houses. Pleasant place. I enjoy her company a lot. She is like a mother for me.

At the beach, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

Tel Aviv is a big city and there is something impersonal like you can feel in big city.
You are drowned in the crowd.
I have been enough drowned in the mass in New York.
Paris is only different because i have most of my friends here.

I have a deep attachment to Hasidic culture indisputably.
The best for me will be to find my place in Yerushalayim, and to spend some Shabbos in Tzfat with that Breslev family or my new Breslev friends.

Horse in Yaffo, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein

When i arrived in the plane, there was man who acted like a guide in Tzfat.
I was surprised to see him, because he told me to get back to Paris later in the month.
He was totally different from what i have seen from him in Tzfat.
First, i didn't understand what was going on.
His face was faded, he lost his smile.
I think that something serious happened to him, and he was not able to talk to anyone.
I felt so sorry for him, and i preferred not to bother him and let him in his bubble.

I didn't feel weird to get back to Paris, because i often moved. I killed a pair of shoes, my suitcase…
That's a bohemian life…

Two black men and one shadow along the beach, February 2015, ©emmarubinstein