The plan was to spend half term week in Tenerife to catch some sunshine before my daughter’s bat mitzvah. But while Costa Adeje scores highly for the convenience and the UV, it doesn’t smash it when it comes to it spiritually. Deciding whether to go, however, was not straightforward. There are plenty of reasons to be cautious and I don’t underestimate how scary it is to be woken up by a siren and have to run for shelter in the middle of the night. (Although, as my cousin explained, the daytime sirens - when you don’t know where everyone is and where to find the nearest shelter - are often more frightening).
I felt everything there is to feel, often all at once: anger, heartbreak, love and at times grief too
But the ceasefire meant sirens had subsided - a rare moment of calm amidst months of chaos. Calm isn’t exactly how I would describe the trip. It certainly wasn’t conducive to zoning out and switching off. In fact, I felt everything there is to feel, often all at once: anger, heartbreak, love, and at times grief. I’ve seen the posters of hostages line the airport walkway on so many Instagram feeds, but seeing them stretching out in front of me down that familiar slope in Ben Gurion took me aback. It was the personal touches - the Hapoel Tel Aviv scarf, the basketball stickers and the teddies, left by people for whom these were more than just names and faces. Driving into Tel Aviv, another such moment - on seeing one of the Azrieli buildings emblazoned with a yellow ribbon and the words ‘Kulanu machakim lachem’. ‘We’re all waiting for you’. The posters of beautiful young faces were everywhere. Some taken hostage, but many just gone. There was no escaping the sadness, but it also felt like a relief to be able to feel that sadness without it needing explanation, qualification, apology or vigilance. Later in the week, without my kids, I saw the bullet holes in those homes in Kfar Azza and the sea of faces at the Nova sight - hundreds of photographs to symbolise all those young lives lost. Those scenes will stay with me forever.
There was no escaping the sadness, but it also felt like a relief to be able to feel that sadness without it needing explanation, qualification, apology or vigilance
But equally, there were moments that lifted the spirit. Opening the curtains onto Tel Aviv sunrise that first morning was worth a million Tenerife vistas. Running along the beachfront, soaking up the unwavering energy of that resilient city. Visiting the Old City in Jerusalem, a place which time never seems to touch. And heading to Tel Aviv’s Menora Mivtachim Stadium to see Omer Adam, whose voice has been filling my house and my car for the last year and a half. When an entire stadium knows every word to every song (and the singer behaves more like a brilliant madrich than a narcissistic popstar) it makes for one hell of an atmosphere. There were faces and flags there too. Groups of friends who should have had one more among them, keeping their lost friends or loves still close - a reminder that this young generation will always be missing pieces in its puzzle.
On our last day, the Bibas bodies were released. For Israelis and many of us, Shiri and her babies represented the myriad others who left this world without anyone to witness their last moments. They became the faces of all those anonymous parents and children who left us without a story to tell. But, until then, for the Bibas family we still could hope. And how the country clung to that hope until the very end. It was a heavy day, but it would have been heavy anywhere. Perhaps, the communal grief was cathartic.
That evening, three buses exploded in Tel Aviv within 15 minutes of each other in a suspected terror attack. Thankfully and miraculously, no one was hurt. Later that night when police sirens wailed past my hotel, probably on totally unrelated business, I found it hard to get back to sleep. Were these explosions the start of another wave of terror? I don’t want to candy-coat it all. I’m so happy we went, but there were brief moments of anxiety too.
Go if you feel compelled to connect, to understand, to grieve a little too - and perhaps to remind yourself what it is we are fighting for, with the war of warped words and narratives all around us
So my advice is: don’t go to Israel if you feel obligated to visit. Go if you feel compelled to connect, to understand, to grieve a little too - and perhaps to remind yourself what it is we are fighting for, with the war of warped words and narratives all around us. Go to take a moment to breathe in a country where there is no judgement - about being Jewish, or about being critical or supportive of the government. For good or for bad, Israel is a place where people speak their minds. Go to remind yourself of that sweeping Tel Aviv coastline, that Jerusalem stone that transports you back in time and that energy and beauty that’s impossible to replicate anywhere else in the world. I can’t guarantee the March sunshine will be holiday weather, but I’m willing to bet it will be strong enough to warm the soul.
The perfect 24hrs in Tel Aviv
Sleep
The David Kempinski
Over the years I’ve stayed in practically every hotel on Tel Aviv beachfront, but the Kempinski comes top of the charts. The location is perfect, the views from the picture-windows in the rooms are magnificent and the little details take the luxury up a notch: Dyson hairdryers, Molton Brown toiletries, you get the picture. Word on the street is that the breakfast is ‘the best in the Middle East’. I can’t say I’ve tried them all, but with a groaning buffet and an egg chef at the ready, it would certainly be hard to beat. A buzzy lobby serving ace sushi and a business lounge with an Ottolenghi-level buffet, both up the wow-factor. kempinski.com/en/the-david-kempinski-tel-aviv
Kempinsi Hotel[Missing Credit]
Eat
Dovra, by Eyal Shani
This lovely spot on Ben Yehuda is one of celebrity chef Eyal Shani’s few kosher offerings. If you know his London street food restaurant chain, Miznon, you’ll know that everything he does is cool, pared back - but delicious. At Dvora the vibe is more bar than canteen and the food is hearty meaty tapas for sharing.
@dvora.tlv on Instagram
Shop
Neve Tzedek
This little enclave of boutiques is always my favourite place to wander. Down the main street, Shabazi, you’ll find everything from fashion to baby clothes, art and jewellery. There are now some chains among the individual shops, but often it’s the designer who will welcome you in. Don’t leave without your Golda ice-cream.
