I went walking through Jaffa.
I could talk about the 7,500 years of history this magical city heralds, but that wasn’t what captivated me most. It was the flea market, the shops and galleries, the restaurants and the harbor. It was the culture.
It began near the clock tower where we were gifted with music and theatrical improvisation from a local youth group. The crowds brought their Borekas (a breakfast pastry filled with cheese, potatoes or vegetables) and gathered around the center to enjoy the show. This is just the taste of culture I most enjoy when I travel, the impromptu performances and surprise festivals that bring me into the heart of the people. There’s something captivating and irresistible in the illusion of being a one with the people and not just a tourist on the inside, yet still on the outside looking in.
We made our way to the Flea Market where local artists, consignment & junk dealers, and craftsmen alike sold their wares beneath tents and along busy street corners. It was much like a neighborhood garage sale in the United States, and yet how incredible to get a glimpse into the vintage toys, games, fashions and arts of the region. Inquiring about an item can easily result in the telling of childhood stories and sharing of local folklore from the sellers.
The small alleyways and streets which make up this city are lined with interesting shops to accentuate the flea market experience. There’s an intriguing balance of history and modernism to the area: the graffiti lined walls and artists sculptures intermixed with modern architecture easily transition to a Napoleon era stone buildings and monuments.
We come across a fountain with a large whale sculpture. I immediately think of the Biblical story Jonah and the Whale, but my friend isn’t convinced Jaffa was even a real port or city in Biblical times. I disagreed.
“Jonah was ordered by God to go to Nineveh to prophesy against it because of their great wickedness,” I explained to my friend. “Jonah went to Jaffa instead and sailed from there to Tarshish. A storm came and the people on the boat became afraid. They blamed the storm on Jonah because of his disobedience and tossed him overboard so that they would survive. A whale came and swallowed him and he stayed in the stomach of the whale for three days before finally being puked up on dry land. Needless to say, he went to Nineveh.”
It turns out the sculpture was indeed inspired by the story of Jonah. It was created by the local artist Ilana Goor.
Our journey takes up passed a missing section of Jaffa’s walls, where they were breached by Napoleon’s soldiers in 1799, and up a set up stairs that take up to Mazal Dagim Street. Narrow covered streets with artwork installed on the walls make up this section of the city. Many of the streets in Old Jaffa are named for zodiac signs. As we peruse the various shops and galleries, we keep an eye out for the streets that represent our signs so we can take a cheesy tourist picture, until we come across an organic sculpture of a suspended orange tree. It was created by artist Ran Morin and was inspired by the great Israeli icon the Jaffa Orange. I slid beneath the tree since it’s important to capitalize on the moments when you’re working for cheesy photos.
We come across an archaeological site with a sculpture representing an Egyptian gate (Ramses Gate), a memorial of Pharaoh Thutmose III who conquered the city in the 15th century B.C.E. by sending baskets of gifts to the king of Jaffa with Egyptian soldiers hidden inside. “Clearly a Trojan Horse is more cinematically appealing than a Pharaoh Basket, but apparently the dramatic results are the same,” we can’t help but note as we follow the stone paved path up to the top of Tel Jaffa to a gate-like sculpture by artist Dan Kafri. It’s called the Statue of Faith and depicts several biblical scenes carved on the sculpture, including the binding of Isaac, the conquest of Jericho and Jacob’s ladder. But my attention is quickly pulled away from identifying the scenes by the breathtaking view of Tel Aviv’s Mediterranean coast.
It’s peaceful and serene as we stare out into the horizon over the water. For a moment I can feel the weight of history upon me, but it is quickly interrupted by the chants coming from the nearby mosque. It’s prayer time and the al-Bahr mosque is broadcasting it from the tower. It is Jaffa’s oldest existing mosque that was renovated in 1997.
As we descend the tell, there is a surreal feel to the experience. The chants continue to surround us as we approach St. Peter’s Church, a basilica and hospice built in the late 19th century by the Franciscan Order with funding from the Spanish royal house. One of the chapels is part of an earlier church built on the same location by the Crusader king Louis IX. The church is dedicated to where Peter had a vision while in a trance on the roof of Simon the Tanner.
Just north of the church we can see the rocks at the entrance to Jaffa Port. My friend explains Greek mythology tells the story of Perseus saving Andromeda and the city of Jaffa by slaying the sea monster Ketos Aithiopios along these rocks. I’m impressed and find myself yelling “Release the Cracken,” quoting the movie Clash of the Titans. I have to catch up to my embarrassed friend. She’s now on a quest, perusing the market along the harbor for something to drink.
I am enjoying a cinnamon infused lemonade as we meander through the busy port when we discover an art exhibit in one of the vacant warehouses. The artists are from Israel and Palestine, and the exhibit unites the countries through the talent of young artists. It is interesting to note the contrast in the overall feel and expression in the pieces from the two countries: hope vs. despair, depression vs. anger. We discuss politics and the desire for peace that isn’t always represented in propaganda in the States. It’s a look inside a generation who’ve never known peace, but dream of a time when their leaders will break the pattern and hear their cries.
Much of the graffiti in the area represents this theme. As we take photos and discuss the images on the walls and buildings, a local points us toward the best hummus stand in Jaffa. How could we resist such a suggestion?
Within minutes we’re standing in line on a crowded residential street corner making our way toward the small building that houses a kitchen, six tables and a takeaway window. We carry our order down the street a bit and straddle a wall overlooking the Jaffa Lighthouse. It is there I learn to scoop hummus like a native and learn a few Hebrew words. It is there I begin to feel a little more at home.
We return to the port to watch the sunset. It’s a kaleidoscope of color, accompanied by the songs of the street musicians. I feel the breeze off the Mediterranean and I’m in awe of the beauty of this country.
by G. Anne Bassett 