Out and about

I usually have an idea of what I might write about before I sit down to compose (which is a good idea in itself) but this time, I seemed to be bereft of ideas.  I thought I might do another “black & white show” (and I will some time soon) and I have to do a display of fruit and vegetables mostly from the Friday morning Farmers’ Market at Tel Aviv Port, which always offers a treasury of colour.  However, looking through the images from the first three mornings of June suggested that I’d manage a post from those without too many problems.  

Purists might disapprove of me not using the stairs to descend but one floor but it’s my choice.  So here we go … literally.

Off we go

Out into the park and you realise that the park is a space for everyone.  Although at first glance, it seems that the joggers, the people with their personal trainers, the cyclists, the rowers, are all under 40, you look around you and realise that many of the people enjoying the park facilities are your age — or even older.

I observed this gentleman doing stretching exercises.  Getting the foot up was a bit of a struggle but not as much as extending the leg fully and  then getting it down again after the stretching was done with.

Leg Up

And then there’s Leon.  I’ve photographed him several times over the past couple of years as out paths cross frequently.  He tells me that he walks the park every day.  He manages to keep a steady pace, interspersed with rests on the park benches, and usually carries to small rubber balls with him as he walks to exercise his hands.  What I noticed the other day was the the two balls were actually miniature globes — and as a geographer I found that appealing!


Although you can see them most days, Friday morning is when you are most likely come across disabled tricyclists.  There is a large number of different models and designs.  In some, the rider sits up and in others (as below), they are almost supine.  How they manage to see clearly is a bit beyond me.  All these machines come equipped with some braking mechanism although to some not technically adept, it appears that the brakes must be difficult to operate because if you’re walking in front one one of these lethal weapons (and their operators seem not to enjoy riding slowly) you are likely to hear a call of alarm or a shrill blast on a soccer referee’s whistle from behind, the first indication that you are in bodily danger, as these machines all seem to lack any kind of bell, hooter, horn or whatever.

Disabled biker

Although you often come across them individually, as often as not they comes in convoys of twos and threes — and then you simply have to make room for them or suffer the consequences!

The tricycle lads

This Friday,  as I was walking over the footbridge that spans the Yarqon just before it enters the sea, I came across several tricyclists and as I stopped to photograph them, I noticed the municipal automobile removal team hard at work removing a car illegally parked in a space reserved for disabled drivers (something which occurs far too routinely in this congested city).  At any rate, this time, they got their man (or woman) and as far as I’m concerned, I hope the driver spent more than just a few anxious minutes thinking his/her automobile had been stolen and then trying to find out where it was.  The interesting thing is that as the car was being hoisted prior to being driven away to the pound, each of the tricyclists, to a man, cheered as they passed by.   

Disabled biker & car

Just before I walked across the bridge, I took a short detour to photograph this rack for parking bicycles.  At least, that’s what I think it is although I’ve never seen a bicycle parked there.  I’ve tried it several times, with different lenses on the camera and from both extremities, in colour and black & white, and I think I’ll settle for this one.

Bicycle Park 1

As I entered the port promenade, I came across a rare occurrence — and then another one.  Two of the many anglers who frequent the area had actually caught something on their lines, less than 200m from one another.  In eight years of walking this route, I’d only seen three “catches” before and here, together, was a double whammy.  The first had caught a crab, the second a catfish.  Both men were struggling with their victims and I wondered why.  So, on asking, I learned that neither wanted to kill the fish, both wanted to throw it back into the sea — but the hooks had caught and they couldn’t release them.  Returning them whence they came and would have meant cutting the line, which I presume means it costs money.  Big dilemma—but not mine, so I let them figure it out on their own and continued on my way.


Continuing through the port on Friday morning yielded these two images of the several I took as I walked through.

Exiting the market and continuing southward, I couldn’t resist this sweet picture of a couple engaged in taking a selfie.  It’s one of those pictures that street photographers take on the sly as they walk past, without as much as glancing through the viewfinder or looking at the monitor, but knowing that if you get it right, it’ll be a nice image.  And it is!

Selfie x 2

Just as I was exiting the port to walk home, something caught my eye.  In a skip (for non-Brits, a skip is “a large transportable open-topped container for building and other refuse”) there was a wooden frame with strips of mirror facing the port.  As I approached it, I saw the picture, with its caption “The hidden photographer”.  I thought it was a really good selfie, taken with a proper camera and not with a smartphone.  Unfortunately, none of my immediate family could understand what it was all about — a disappointment as I had nobody to share my enthusiasm with.  A pity — but if you look hard, you may just see me, the hidden photographer!

Hidden photographer

En route home, two items in particular drew my attention.  One was a series of bags designed to catch flies and other flying insects suspended from tree branches outside a café/restaurant on Dizengoff Street.  The other was a flower with the most brilliant yellow and orange hidden in a garden along the busy Nordau Boulevard.

TrappedYellow Flower

A detour from Nordau caught a scene somewhat reminiscent of the one I mentioned earlier in connection with the driver illegally parked in a disabled parking bay.  Here, the driver had solved the parking problem of the previous night by coming to the conclusion that as it was a one-way street and thus there was no right turn, drivers making a left turn on to Ben-Nun street would simply have to make it a rather wide one.

Wide turn

As I turned into Ibn Gvirol Street, I noticed this woman on a bike stopped at the crossing.  She was texting (or is it SMSing?).  It must have been a long message or else she simply hasn’t realised that you can talk the message into the machine.  I stood at some distance looking at the dog seated in the front basket.  It was really the very embodiment of canine patience.  Nevertheless, after about a minute, it did what dogs do best.  It looked up with those eyes and without uttering a bow or a wow or a woof, said: “Madam, don’t you think it’s time we made a move?”


Finally, as I continued down Ibn Gvirol, I was reminded that Friday June 3 was the date of  Tel Aviv’s annual gay pride parade, and the flags and banners announcing it had gone up a couple of weeks before.  I’m sure the parade went off peacefully and was very colourful.  However, as I’m not very keen on crowds, I gave it a miss!

T-A goes Gay



One thought on “Out and about

  1. Ilana Z. says:

    Good morning, I liked the diversity. The colors (this Wonder full sun like flower) and the most strking are the tricycles. I love them, I do not know if they suit to women?!! I dream of something like that to cross Tel Aviv!!

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