I’d become deeply entrenched in the daily grind when the invitation to Tel Aviv came. Like many my age (tweens under my roof), I’d become a slave to my to-do list, reluctant to try new things, slightly devoid of spark… Looking back, Tel Aviv (Hebrew for ‘renewal’ or ‘spring’) came just at the right time.
There is so much to love about the White City. It feels counter-culture. Subversive. Liberal. There’s a loucheness to it. No one is trying too hard. Street art, tattoos and electric scooters are commonplace. With its retro vibes and modernist architecture, it’s a bit like West Hollywood but more exotic. Ancient Banyan trees line the roads. Bats fly overhead at dusk. The sun bakes your shoulders in a matter of seconds. And no, ladies, you don’t need to cover them.
Hotel Montefiore, my base for the weekend, couldn’t have suited me better. Had I entered a list of hotel preferences into a matchmaking site, this charming boutique hotel may well have come up. It occupies a peach-hued 1920s listed building on a quiet residential street and has 12 en-suite bedrooms with high ceilings (many with balcony). The lobby brings to mind Rick’s Café from Casablanca – potted palms, Persian rugs and vintage lighting. Upstairs, rooms have a contemporary arty feel with shelves heaving with design books, well-stocked mini-bars and Jasper Conran coffee sets. In the bathroom, it’s all Bulgari, darling. Best of all, no fiddly iPad controls for anything. Nor keycards. I was handed a lovely brass key. Let me tell you reader, I have fallen for this hotel.
The bar is packed every night, such is the jazzy tempo of the place; the romance only amplified by vases of red roses, dribbling church candles and tureens of lemons threatening to topple onto cocktail-swilling patrons at any moment. The décor is silent-movie-chic with a hint of The Groucho: antique panelling, venetian blinds and stiff white tablecloths. Ten out of ten for ambiance. I soon learn that Hotel Montefiore’s restaurant is one of the hottest tables in the city, which makes perfect sense because the Israeli/French/Asian food is astonishing.
The moment I sit down, warm sourdough batons wend their way to my table in a pewter cup lined with wax paper reminiscent of those at The Wolseley – like I said, classy. My first course of leaf artichokes comes with a tightly packed stack of roasted celeriac similar to a pommes lyonnaise – soft, creamy and crispy at the edges. The flavours are earthy and rooty with a depth of richness only found at the bottom of a roasting pan. My main course of lamb chops comes accompanied by a dish of buttery mash potato the size of my head and a side of minted spinach. Every mouthful is sublime. I’m too stuffed to even contemplate dessert.
Service is on point. Speedy, schooled yet effortless. I’m touched to see members of staff hug at the end of their shift. As for the diners, ‘eclectic’ is the understatement of the year. One party-of-four comes in dressed so flamboyantly, I am forced to ask a waiter if they’ve come straight from a film set (flowing silk robes, sequin shawls and knee-length dreadlocks).
Not only is Hotel Montefiore cosy and characterful, it’s the ideal base from which to explore the city on foot. Located in a leafy neighbourhood peppered with Bauhaus buildings, it’s a stone’s throw from Rothschild Boulevard, Tel Aviv’s main promenade studded with cafés and restaurants. It’s easy to pop out to Carmel Market for falafel and fresh fruit smoothies or to the French quarter (Neve Tzedek) for gelato and jewellery shopping. The beach is 20 mins away and Old Jaffa is a bit of a hike (take a taxi) but worth it if you’re a member of Soho House.
When I learn that the powerhouse duo behind Hotel Montefiore (Ruti and Mati Broudo) have just unveiled a brand-new hotel around the corner, I immediately make tracks. Occupying one of the most splendid examples of Bauhaus architecture in the city, R48 Hotel & Garden has FT: How to Spend It written all over it. With just 11 suites and a rooftop pool, it’s sleek, curvy, glassy and perfect for, well, perfectionists – with deep pockets. Rooms are from £800 per night.
On my second evening, on the recommendation of a film producer friend, I head to Port Sa’id, a hipster hang-out walking distance from Hotel Montefiore. Knowing they don’t take bookings, I arrive early (at what looks like a car park) only to find every table taken. Someone with a lip-stud kindly stations me at the counter next to the DJ who I soon discover had a penchant for 90s pop – played loud. Sitting there in my Boden top, I couldn’t have felt more out of place. But then just as quickly, I didn’t care. Perhaps it was the cold beer hitting my bloodstream or maybe it was the familiar chords of ‘Freak Like Me’ by the Sugababes ringing out from the vinyl sound system. Whatever it was, I could feel the ‘old me’ bubbling back to the surface, and I liked it.
My main course (an aubergine charred to the point of collapse with a blob of smoky tahini) piqued the interest of the man on the stool next to me (a young Stanley Tucci type) and we got chatting. A couple of hours later I rolled back to the hotel feeling, dare I say it, quite hot-damn rock ‘n’ roll.
Photo Sivan Askayo
The weekend passed in a whirl of sight-seeing, shekel-spending and sun-worshipping and I found myself checking out of Hotel Montefiore with a heavy heart. I was sad to be leaving the hotel. Sad to be leaving the city. Ok, I had a hangover, which didn’t help. When I discovered my flight was delayed, my spirits lifted. I left my bags at front desk and scampered off to Tel Aviv’s newest urban green space, Park Hamesila (so new it’s not even on maps yet).
Well, I say ‘park’ but it’s actually a disused 1800s railway line. Picture New York’s Highline but at ground level. I was delighted to discover the entire 5km trail bursting with street art and sensitively planted banks of flowers and that despite its location minutes from the hubbub of Rothschild, it was blissfully tranquil. No queues for coffee. Barely a whisper of street noise. I exchanged friendly nods with the odd cyclist and dog-walker but, by and large, had the place to myself. What a wonderful parting gift.
By the time I’d got to Ben Gurion’s Terminal 3, my iPhone told me I’d done 12km. Smashed all my previous records. But what can I tell you? Tel Aviv has a way of putting a spring in your step.
Rooms at Hotel Montefiore start from £340 including breakfast. For more information, visit https://www.hotelmontefiore.co.il/. For more information about Tel Aviv, and to start planning your trip, please visit the official Israel tourism website at www.israel.travel.
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