As Israel entered its second lockdown, hordes of Tel Avivians began to congregate at the square with takeaway food, snacks, blankets, cigarettes and a variety of beer and wine in tow.
By ABIGAIL ADLERPEOPLE GATHER at Dizengoff Square last week.(photo credit: ABIGAIL ADLER)
Canceling plans and staying in with cozy sweatpants and a glass of red wine sounded appealing at the beginning of the pandemic. However, after a while, the soul simply itches for a night out on the town. With no open bars, restaurants, or nightlife in general during the corona era, what’s your typical twenty-something Tel Avivian to do? As the old saying goes, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. And make lemonade they did, right in Tel Aviv’s iconic Dizengoff Square.The square was established in the late 1930s as the first public open space, symbolizing the city’s aspiration toward modernization. Throughout the years, it was the stimulating social center that molded Tel Aviv into the vibrant city it is today. The coronavirus era reminded Tel Aviv’s young residents just how integral the square is to the city’s social fabric.As Israel entered its second lockdown, hordes of Tel Avivians began to congregate at the square with takeaway food, snacks, blankets, cigarettes and a variety of beer and wine in tow. It was as if the White City community had collectively decided that if they couldn’t go to the party, they were going to create the party, lockdown be damned. By the third lockdown, the party is still going strong.“I started coming here two months ago. I didn’t know so many people yet and I just loved the place,” said 24-year-old Sapir, a new resident of Tel Aviv. “There are lots of people and there’s an ambiance. People sit here, drink wine, smoke. I started bringing my puppy and coming here more often because it’s part of his daily trip.” He added, “There are people from all different walks of life here, from the craziest to the calmest to the strangest. Everyone brings their own flavor. It’s a melting pot. We nicknamed Kikar Dizengoff (Dizengoff Square) Kikar Abarbanel (an Israeli mental health center) because everyone here is crazy.”However, when asked if the kikar was a good temporary replacement for the city’s nightlife scene, he said: “I miss the music and the bar’s atmosphere of darkness. The lights, the music, the drinking… but coming here is nice and it’s better than nothing.”“It’s always been a fun space to sit and hang out on a Friday night after a fun meal, a place we would go to before corona. Now it’s kind of the only place that there is. It’s either the beach or Kikar Dizengoff,” said 25-year-old Jen, who has lived in Tel Aviv for a year and a half.“What’s nice about it is that it’s surrounded by bars. So you can go to any bar, get a drink, or get food, and go sit in the square. It feels like this is public communal space to hang out, without it being this enclosed space, like a bar, which feels a little sketchier. You can be in your own space with your own group of people, while still being around a lot of people. I don’t feel so guilty about it corona-wise because we’re outside, and people are spread out and doing their own thing.”When asked if she was nervous about getting a ticket from the police for being out and about, Jen replied: “sometimes we’ll just move over, get up for five minutes and come back. Once we left because the police were going around talking to every single group of people there. Overall, they seem really powerless. One time, there were two policemen riding around on rollerblades in neon outfits. They looked like they were models or actors pretending to be policemen, because it was the most ridiculous thing. But they were really policemen, because there were a bunch of them. The police just put on a show like they actually care.”The square’s social climate is reminiscent of US speakeasies during the 1920s Prohibition era. Back then, many low-paid police officers were bribed by speakeasy owners with money and drinks to look the other way. Evidently, a century later across the ocean, some of Tel Aviv’s police officers are also choosing to look the other way. While speakeasies were hidden from the public eye and password-protected, the White City’s square is out in the open, seemingly inviting everyone in the neighborhood to the only block party in town.“The municipality is working together with the Israel Police to ensure that rules against banned gatherings are enforced,” said a Tel Aviv Municipality representative.When the city’s nightlife begins to come back to life after the corona era, the first bar Sapir plans to patronize is Dizzy Frishdon, a popular dance bar on Dizengoff Street conveniently close to his apartment. On the other hand, Jen doesn’t really care, as long as it’s “a seedy night where we don’t know where it’s going and get hit on by creepy guys. It doesn’t matter – anywhere where it’s sweaty and just a lot of fun.”Until then, the square is the place to be, constantly evolving and shaping Tel Aviv’s social sphere.
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