January 31, 2009
On Shabbat, does Jewish law permit one to cross against the traffic light? Life slows on Shabbat in Tel Aviv, not nearly to the degree that it does in Jerusalem, but slows nevertheless. One good indicator is the diminished rush and whir of the cars racing down Namir or Pinkas, two of the main thoroughfares. During the week, I am impressed by the compliance with traffic signals and I myself am respectful of the regulations and would not consider taking my life in my hands by crossing against a light in any case. On Shabbat, even on Namir, cars are less common and easily visible one or two hundred yards from the intersection. Is it kosher to cross?
The Tel Aviv and Jaffo Cultural Office sponsors a walking tour about the Bauhaus architecture on Rothschild Boulevard. Edmond Rothschild, the son of James Rothschild, the Parisian banker and one of the five sons of the founder of the Rothschild banking enterprise, became a staunch and generous benefactor to Jews settling Palestine, beginning with the first aliyah in 1882. He was responding to the desperate plight of poor Jews in Eastern Europe and believed that Palestine was a safe haven. (Independently and coincidentally, Yemini Jews decided to establish a new life for themselves in Palestine in the same year.) Although not initially a Zionist, indeed he was in conflict with Herzl until the early 1890s, Rothschild invested or donated millions of francs to agricultural (including the wine vineyards of Zikaron Ha Yakov, named for his father) and small industrial efforts. He visited Palestine on five occasions, once on very short notice when he was at sea on his yacht and decided to stop in for a few days! Given Edmond Rothschild’s commitment of the Jews of Palestine it seemed appropriate to name the first street of the new city of Tel Aviv for him. Or, one never knows, perhaps he bought the naming rights.
A sherut brought us to Rothschild and Shadal, just two blocks or so from the beginning of this grand boulevard. A group of about 20 people was gathering for the 11 a.m. tour. Yona Wiseman, a spirited probably in her late 60s, conducted the tour. She came to Israel in 1960 and although she did not say her country of origin she sounded South African. She began with the story of the 66 families, many residents of nearby ancient Jaffo, who decided that in order to take more control of their circumstances they would build a new city, north of Jaffo. There is a famous picture of members of the families as they stand on the sand dunes that constituted the site of their new city. Although the city grew rapidly, initially along Rothschild, the main street, the founders would be stunned to see Tel Aviv today, as it celebrates its centennial in 2009.
The first building she pointed out was built for a wealthy Jew from Europe who fled WW I. It has undergone several changes of ownership, as well as renovations. The Soviets made it their embassy for a short while after the founding of the State, but moved out when an anti-communist worker set off a bomb in the kitchen. Recently, the building was purchased by a Canadian philanthropist who is turning it into a home away from home for members of the IDF who do not have families in Israel. In order to impede “Zionism by bulldozers” as Yona informed us, regulations in the 1960’s, I think, and certainly since Tel Aviv has been designated a landmark city by UNESCO, require that fascades be preserved. In exchange for the willingness to undertake a renovation, developers are permitted to develop adjoining property, but still with the expectation that it align with current structures. For example, one modern bank incorporated two funeral homes, probably built in the 1930s, into its structure. She showed us some pictures of totally, but totally gutted buildings, with the blue sky clearly visible, but the original facades in place. Another regulation with the early building was that each house must plant a tree, the precursors to the 300 million trees that have been planted.
In 1925, recognizing the chaotic growth of the city, leaders invited Patrick Gaddes, a Scottish planner living in Bombay, to consult. Yona noted that even coming from Bombay, not known for its organized development, Gaddes was appalled. He was responsible for establishing several of the major cross town boulevards. He also divided the city into a grid with 90 squares and encouraged small parks in each. Apparently 60 or so of these have small parks and green spaces.
Tel Aviv became a landmark for Bauhaus architecture for two reasons. First, the style, which developed in the late 20s and early 30s, underscores functionally of design, a feature that was attractive to the builders of Tel Aviv. Second, originating in Germany with Walter Gropius and others, the style was ridiculed by the Nazis when they came to power, forcing these architects to flee. Knows as the “White City” because so many of the buildings were covered with whilewash, other “earth” colors are permitted under UNESCO regulations. Don’t ask how UNESCO has the resources, much less the mechanisms and personnel to review, much less enforce these regulations. Yona pointed out one drawback, however. The ficus-like trees that line the boulevard produce a small berry that is a favorite of bats. Unfortunately, the proximity of the trees and their tasty berries to the houses results in a lot of bat “shmutz” as Yona put it and the stains cannot be cleaned, only painted over. Three other highlights of this fascinating, two hour excursion up the boulevard included: Yona noting the wooden shutters on one building, explaining that this former German Jewish house had these shutters because when Jews fled Germany in the early 30s, they were not permitted to take cash, so they converted cash to other valuables such as building materials. The Nissim kiosk, now under the ownership of the grandson, a stand that was offered to Nissim, an Iraqi Jew who helped many Jews escape to Palestine. When he himself immigrated in 1948, he was penniless so the government set him up in this small kiosk. It became a popular falafel stand under his son, and now the grandson serves coffees and gourmet sandwiches, as the times change. A third highlight occurred as we stopped for an explanation and the loud sounds of the song “Tel Aviv, Tel Aviv” filled the air. Yona smiled, laughed and waved to her friend, a man who lives in a small house on the boulevard and when he’s around, always offers this musical accompaniment for her.
Max Brenner, located on Rothschild across from where the tour started, is a chocolate heaven. Linda and I had stumbled upon it in our wanderings some weeks ago, so we took advantage of the chance to visit again at the end of the walking tour. Why not? It’s great chocolate. It is, for the record, 19 shekels, however, close to $5. This time we ordered one bread, jam and cheese basket which came with a dark Italian hot chocolate, and one additional Italian chocolate. The basket came with tiny, finger bowls, of chocolate, fig jam, and butter, and slightly larger tureens with cottage cheese, tuna salad, and labneh. This was all delicious and was more than sufficient for lunch. The host is a very friendly Asian young man, perfectly fluent in English, whom I recognized from our previous visit. I asked where he learned to speak English so well and he said that he was born in Israel of Thai Filipino parents and attended an international school. I was a little reluctant to ask, because I did not want him to think I was saying, “hey, you don’t look Jewish.” The influx of Thai and Filipino immigrants has been a significant demographic change in Israel, I am assuming from the time of the first intifada, when the Palestinian labor force was restricted in its movements into and out of Israel.
As we headed along the broad, tree-lined pedestrian walkway that serves as the median for Rothschild and several other boulevards, we found ourselves next to a mother trailing behind her two kids on bikes; a girl about 7, and a boy about 4. As the kids picked up speed, the mom also sped up, but not by walking or jogging--by skipping.
We took a different route back to Bavli, winding our way along several streets that are at angles to the grid. As I looked toward the end of one block, a person looked quite familiar and then I recognized that we was my doctor from Dizengoff. I don’t think that in 19 years in Chapel Hill, I have ever run into any of my physicians, so this was indeed a coincidence! He introduced us to his wife, an American, and we talked again about their havurah. We’ll probably attend their kabbalat Shabbat potluck and service on February 13th.