The unfinished city
Tel Aviv is a city under constant construction, which makes it both beautiful and ugly
My Tel Aviv is an unfinished city. This is what makes it both beautiful and ugly. There isn’t even one corner in Tel Aviv that one can say has been finished. There’s always some kind of unfinished sidewalk, some kind of peeling plaster, some forgotten scaffolding, some temporary tin fence, or some kind of junkyard waiting for salvation.
I like to walk through Tel Aviv’s streets, and when I pass by office buildings coated with imported marble or near residential apartments that cost $7,000 per square meter (these days, this is the price of a whole house in Detroit,) I always encounter the remains of unfinished Hebrew work; Be cautious, they’re building around here; building forever.
The Azrieli towers are an example of this. Even after the construction of all three of them reached its official end, after a decade and a half, the construction site that surrounds them has remained intact. Old construction materials are scattered on cracked sidewalk tiles that have not been repaired. Meanwhile, the stores facing the street boarded up their windows, as if in a week or two they will be exposed to the passersby. No chance: They’ve been boarded up for six years now.
At the bus stops that block the sidewalk (temporarily – for five years now) you will usually find a sign that announces that the stop had been moved a little forward or backward. Even a hotel that was recently opened there looks as though it’s going through a constant trial-run, which will never end.
Is the state of train stations any better? Not at all. In my modest estimate, the train station on Hahagana Street has been built ever since they started to build Tel Aviv’s most failed construction project – the new central bus station. In 1969, as a young rookie journalist, I appeared on television and predicted that the new central bus station will become an urban disaster, that its location is insane, and that building it will take double the time planned for it. I was wrong on the last count: The construction of the new central bus station has not been completed in 40 years, and it will not be completed in this century either.
Confused tourists
Meanwhile, the beach front, from the Tel Aviv port to the old Jaffa port, has the look of a slow construction site. Here something is razed, there something is renovated, here they’re digging a pit, there we see a crane, and in the midst of it one can find a few confused tourists walking around, looking in vain for the map in their hand to match the reality before their eyes.
And then there are the balconies, of course. How could I forget them? There are few residential buildings in this town that at this time are not subjected to renovation work aimed at turning at least one of these balconies into a room.
I could go on with such descriptions, but there is no point. Tel Aviv is an unfinished city because it’s dynamic, and also because authorities do not adopt a firm hand against those who build without permits. It is unfinished because it’s groundbreaking, and also because no contractor is ever required to pay a million-shekel fine for failing to meet his commitments. It is unfinished because it happily absorbs and adopts diverse population groups, but also because it does not have a strong urban core that sets firm standards. It is unfinished because it constantly takes new shapes, but also because it is a symbol of the improvising, disorderly Israel.
Everything will be alright, and if not, we’ll fix it and it will be a little more alright, and if not, we shall fix it again and make it a little better. Is there even one street in Tel Aviv that had not been renovated three times at least?
We are an imperfect nation, and so is our city.
My Tel Aviv is a city under constant construction. This is its secret; this reveals its wild, creative, changing, and unrestrained character. It’s annoying to live here. It’s also fun to live here.
