How To Entertain A Ruined-Out Child #1

After Egypt, Jordan and Lebanon, it would be fair to say that my spawn is a little ruined-out. The Middle East does that to you, you see.

In the same way that after a few months in South-East Asia, you’re pretty much over wats, and approaching max tolerance for jungle and fascinating tribal peoples, or after a few weeks in Western Europe you are sick to the guts of cathedrals and castles, Zac is, frankly, completely over ruins.

It’s not just about the pyramids, Luxor, Petra and the like. It’s about the Romans, and the Greeks.

(Yes, it’s also about the Phoenicians, the Nabateans, the Edomites, the Canaanites, the Nubians, the Jews, the Byzantines and the early Arab empires, not to mention the Phrygians, Lycians, Hittites and Assyrians, but it’s the Romans and the Greeks which get so repetitious after a while… Them and the Crusader-Mamluk-Ottoman castles.)

And, while I don’t wish to appear ungrateful, or unduly ruined-out, it could be said that once you’ve seen a couple of well-preserved Roman theatres, you’ve pretty much seen them all. (I would personally make an exception for Herod’s – yes, that Herod’s! – megalomaniacal fortress-palaces, but Zac… Well, like I said, he’s ruined-out.)

Further, my pocket atheist is also completely over locations where Biblical events may or may not have happened.

The Western Wall worked. The grotto at Bethlehem was worthwhile. But after that, it’s kind of a zero-sum game.

The Shepherd’s Fields? Yes, the very same fields where shepherds were watching their flocks four centuries before Byzantine enquirers came along, and approximately 100 years before Christianity had any sort of foothold in the region whatsoever…

Well, they have all the credibility of the real live burning bush on Mount Sinai (a spot which, itself, may well not be the Mount Sinai of the Bible).

The sea where Jesus walked on water? The cliff the Gadarene swine jumped over?

Nuh-uh.

He would rather play in a waterfall, thank you very much.

Now, I shouldn’t really be surprised by this. In fact, I should only really be surprised that he’s lasted this long.

But it is especially unfortunate as we are headed next to Turkey, and then to Greece, neither of which is exactly short on ruins or, in the case of Turkey, religious sites, that when I mention the vague possibility of just taking a quick look at something historic he gives me the death stare.

Anywise, Tel Aviv, a city established all of 120 years ago on a strip of beach that nobody wanted at the time, proved just the ticket. And not only because it’s a ruin-free zone.

What did we do?

WE ATE. A LOT.

Tragically for the wallet, and the waistline, our little flat was right round the corner from a strip lined with the sort of absolutely fabulous neighbourhood bistros that feature foodstuffs like foie gras, bone marrow, ceviche and carpaccio (and, yes, pork products too!).

Or, as Zac put it on his first encounter with foie gras, “Mmmm… This is definitely for special occasions only, isn’t it? Or, at least, that’s what the geese would say….”

My friend Miki fed us to the gunnels, also, with the jumbo Israeli breakfast, and definitively THE best hummus we’ve tried in the Middle East…

WE LOOKED AT ART.

The Tel Aviv Museum of Art is seriously amazing. Not just for the architecture (we loved their controversial new extension), not just for the big name artists (Picasso, Miro, Renoir, Van Gogh, Liechtenstein, Monet, Manet and the like), not just for the photography, but also for their fantastic interactive kiddie section.

Yes, you can make digital post-Impressionist portraits of yourself. How cool is that?

WE WENT TO THE BEACH

Now, narrow Mediterranean beaches crammed with umbrellas and paid-for sun loungers are normally my idea of tourist hell (this is my kind of beach!), but in fact a splash on Tel Aviv’s splendid city beaches worked perfectly.

The Red Sea is wonderful for diving, for treasure hunting, and for snorkelling, but it’s rather short on waves that you can actually jump in.

It is also, after Egypt, rather nice to be somewhere where you can wear a bikini and not feel like a slab of raw meat surrounded by a wolf pack.

WE DID SOME DRUMMING

“A drumming show?” quoth my spawn, hippie alert sirens flashing almost visibly over his head. “A drumming show?!”

But Sama Sama was the interactive drumming show to end all interactive drumming shows, and infinitely more high-tech than hippie.

Luminous smoke ring drums; video booths where you could record your own little rhythm clip for display on a mass screen; old stone buildings full of water tanks and bubble machines; laser harps to twangle; gigantic wobbly towers with electronic pads in the base and a rhythm to drum along to; all set amid the olives and palm trees of the Eretz-Israel museum.

They’re hoping to tour it internationally. Grab it, if they do.

HE HAD SOME KIDDIE TIME

Now he has attained the ripe old age of eleven, Zac loves hanging out with little kids.

Even when, as with Miki’s daughter, Rio, said little kid only speaks Hebrew (though Mum Hebrew is remarkably easy to pick up – “Boy!” (come) “Yalla!” (let’s go) “Dov!” (good) “Ken” (yes) “Lo” (no) and you’re away.)

A trip to the playground, some cartoons on TV and, yes, the not-so-hippie drumming show worked perfectly.

I wish we’d stayed longer, I really do. But we had friends to meet on the Turkish coast, and in a travel cockup quite spectacular in its imbecility, I had booked our flights out of Amman. Yes, Amman in Jordan.

I mean, it’s only 120k from Tel Aviv, right? No distance…

And it’s not like there are 15 flights a day direct from Tel Aviv to Turkey. Oh, wait…