... because of curiosity of a foreigner

The "Shorashim" gallery on Habima square had opened yesterday a new exposition called "View from here - light from there". The exhibition includes the works of painters from the former Soviet Union who work and live here, in Israel, but who naturally bring their background, education and culture into their creations. Kind of a boiling point in the form of art.
In the opening speech, the curators talked about a newfound love to the Israeli landscapes seen in the presented artworks. This got me thinking about a "curiosity of a foreigner".
This is a line of the poem by Anna Akhmatova, Russian poet of the first half of 20 century. In the poem Akhmatova describes a newfound sense of happiness when she looks on the streets of her beloved city, St. Petersburg, "with a curiosity of a foreigner". Then everything that she was long accustomed with, looks fresh and wonderful and new.
And so the artists who hadn't been born here in Israel look on everything with a curiosity of a foreigner. They keep this fresh perspective and wonder for the things that to people who were born into this reality might look mundane: Israeli landscapes, streets of Tel Aviv, the Mediterranean sea.
My friend Lesya Bershov is one of the artists of the exhibition. Good luck Lesya and thanks for your curiosity of a foreigner for Tel Aviv streets, cafes and people!

...because the street is everyone's front yard

If you walk along Nordau boulevard in the morning hours of a fine winter day, you'll see a bunch of people sitting on the benches, drinking coffee, reading newspapers, talking - getting their day started in the open air.
One of the things I like about Tel Aviv is that people actually consider street as an extension of their home. It's not unusual to see someone sitting on a park bench, drinking a coffee from a mug, talking over the phone. So like almost unconsciously one is going from room to room while talking on the phone, one can just as easy go outside. The street is just another room. The city is an extension of the apartment.
One early Saturday morning Lesya and I were taking a walk on Pinsker street. It was pretty early, the street empty, most of the people still asleep. Suddenly one of the doors opened, and out went this guy with a cup of coffee. He sat on the staircase leading to the building, drank his coffee, and then returned inside. And I thought how cool was it that the outside stairs were his porch, and that the city is everyone's front yard.

... because of sunlit winters

Elisabet, my French tutor, gave me an assignment: write a poem about Tel Aviv, inspired by the hit song "A Paris" by Riff Cohen that tells about ... well, Paris, in a "grocery store list" style.

Here goes:
In Tel Aviv, there are
Beaches and boulevards
Cafes and toddlers
Bicycles and surfing boards
And parks and dogs

In Tel Aviv, there are
Sunlit winters and endless summers
Banana beach and Gordon pool
The old Jaffa and Neve Tsedek
And flip flops and swimming suits

And balconies and rooftop gardens
Tiny flats and lack of space
Noisy streets and greasy alleys
And hummus and hamsin

And Bauhaus and Opera house
Allenby and Shenkin
Hacarmel market and holy land souvenirs
And poets and snobs

In Tel Aviv, there are
Beaches and boulevards
Cafes and toddlers
Bicycles and surfing boards
And parks and dogs

And reins over this all
The Mediterranean sea

Elisabeth, I'll have this in French for our class :)