If you visit Tel Aviv, then you will probably have a long stroll up and down a few of the thirteen official beaches. From Jaffa up to the port you can stroll for several miles on a clean and pleasant promenade. However you will need to ignore the dull drone of the traffic and dodge speeding jews on electric scooters shouting ‘Oy these tourists!’ in Hebrew.
The seafront has a number of cafes as each of the beaches have a similar layout of chairs, facilities (toilets, lockers, showers) and a bar or caff of some description offering a close-up view of the waves of the Mediterranean.
It was raining so we escaped into Gazoz Beach a cafe/bar on Jerusalem beach (I don’t think there is an actual Gazoz beach) and got a seat by the window.
Israel seems like an outdoor nation. There’s nowt on telly and the climate is good enough to allow for alfresco pursuits; the locals keep themselves fit and so there are always a few beach bodies to distract you. I thought we could oggle at leisure. But no, it was the Shabbat (a lot of places shut from Friday sunset to Saturday evening) and we were told on arriving that they close in twenty minutes. We agreed to stay as there were a few other people in there that had only just started there Aperols and Iced Teas. I ordered two teas and a card fell out of my wallet with ‘Gazoz beach’ written on it given to me in a different part of town. It was fate perhaps that we would be here. Kismet?
So we gazed at the sea and around the cafe. Quite pleasant with a sort of predictable nautical / island theme (including parrot on fabrics, flowers above the bar, and a lifebelt on the wall). Rest of it including the white plastic or wicker chairs and a few odds and sods dotted about and is all pleasant enough but of course, the sea is the star of the show, and you would probably go outside if it wasn’t raining.
Hot tea served in a glass which has no handles and is too hot to hold. This seems to be popular in Israel (and some bloody artisan cafes). This is nearly a stupid an idea as the UK’s ‘Smart’ motorways which was conceived by the lobotomised with the imagination of a dead snail. The snail had wandered into a ‘dynamic hard shoulder’ no doubt and been crushed by a lorry.
After twenty minutes we had finished our drinks and it has stopped raining so we decided to leave, miffed that no only had they not shut the cafe, but other drinkers were carrying on regardless. Maybe they wanted it clear of Goys so we left, happy to have an excuse not to leave a tip.
The toilets were pretty crummy too. I found an old leather glove in one of the urinals. I was going to report it jokingly saying I had found a ‘pissmitt’. But maybe it was fate. Or Kismet. Or pissmitt.
Good: Chilled, Sea View.