Taking in trendy Tel Aviv

In the window of a small independent art gallery in Tel Aviv’s trendy Florentin district a teenage girl wearing army combats sat by the front desk, sending text messages with one hand and propping up an assault rifle with the other. Surrounding her was the work of the feminist Israeli artist Noa Liberman – a series of huge naked self-portraits of herself bent over and peeking out from between her legs (among other jaunty positions). But this teen soldier was not part of any earnest political performance art, she was simply a young girl with a big gun visiting a gallery-worker friend.

Such sights are a part of everyday life in Israel’s financial capital, which is buzzing with great food, art, shopping and a surprisingly thriving gay scene (it was recently voted the best gay destination in the world by gaycities.com). Meanwhile, 18-year-olds (unless insane, disabled or Orthodox Jewish, whose national service is done through prayer instead) must join the Israel Defense Forces for three years (two for girls) and be prepared to fight for their country at the drop of a shekel.

After a week in Tel Aviv I barely noticed the gun-wielding youths, they became just another thread in the fabric of this complicated city. My local friend Helena told me over dinner at the opulent modern French restaurant Cordelia: ‘People in Tel Aviv live in a bubble. There’s this sense of euphoria. The issues – what’s happening around us – don’t affect us.’ The young creative types Helena introduced me to were less keen to talk politics or religion than to tell me about new ‘Sex Manifesto’ (by women, for women) club nights, street art or start-up web companies. Or to sneak me into a huge artists’ studio complex in a derelict office block by the beach, lead me through workshops, hand me a beer from the honesty fridge and take me up on to the roof where fairy lights illuminated a couple of battered sofas and overturned crates – a makeshift bar for those in the know, offering panoramic views along the coast to Jaffa.

‘You’re going to a women’s music concert now, OK?’ another new friend, Anat Nir, queen of Tel Aviv’s rampant lesbian clubbing scene, told me with what I was coming to recognise as a uniquely Israeli kind of insistence. With military precision I was escorted off the roof, into the back of a taxi, told that my name was on the guest list and waved off. An hour later I was standing next to the ex-opposition leader Tzipi Livni, watching the transsexual Eurovision winner Dana International sing Israeli power ballads.

If only I could have got the pair of them back to Brown, my boutique hotel, for an after-party. Imagine the Facebook photos! Alas, the next day I woke up with neither a pop star nor a politician in my bed, so headed out for brunch, a Tel Avivian institution. The hotel is too small to have its own restaurant but offers vouchers for a choice of nearby hip cafés.

It’s a short walk into Jaffa, the ancient port town that modern Tel Aviv grew up around, where steep winding alleys named for signs of the zodiac are dense with artisan shops and quaint little restaurants. Ilana Goor, an art collector and friend of the Israeli Lanvin designer Alber Elbaz (who studied in Tel Aviv), has a home and museum overlooking the historic port and it’s well worth visiting her cornucopia of treasures and charming roof terrace. Also within the confines of the old city is a flea market open from 10am, and a cluster of antiques shops selling bundles of old keys, broken doorbells and doll’s eyes. One shop had a notice above the door reading: ‘No bargaining. The owner is crazy.’ Inconceivably, amid all this is a sparkling Urban Sushi restaurant, but in Jaffa there’s really only one place to eat: you’ll have the best bagel of your life at the street kiosk Abuelafia & Sons.

Over the next few days, Anat insisted I experience all Tel Aviv has to offer. We embarked on an exhausting itinerary at the Museum of Art, a spectacularly sleek, light-flooded building containing interesting local works, great American expressionism and currently home to an Anselm Kiefer show. Lunch was at the Arab-owned hummus bar Ali Karavan on Ha’Dolfin Street. Anat and her TV news reporter friend Irit had a heated discussion in Hebrew to establish that this was without a doubt the best hummus in the capital. It was certainly the best I’d ever tasted, rich, creamy and served with a side bowl of lemon juice, garlic and onion to dribble over it. But what really made this no-frills experience was the sheer joy of eating: everyone dug in with a pile of flatbreads; dipping, sharing and generally not giving a chickpea about table manners.

More sophisticated dining can be found in the leafy Neve Tzedek area. Shabazi Street is all chic homeware stores, jewellery shops and al fresco restaurants (be sure to pop into Anita’s for a gourmet ice cream). Despite being just a ten-minute walk from last August’s terror attack near the club Haoman 17, the area is home to the city’s most desirable and expensive real estate. In Tel Aviv the good life must go on.

We explored the North Port, a snazzy, redeveloped area home to what Helena described as the ‘female mafia’ – there’s a women’s centre here that offers feminist tours of the city. But you might find a tour of its Bauhaus and modern architecture more appealing. Don’t miss the recently converted Hatachana railway station in Jaffa, now a covered shopping and dining complex, where you can stock up on art books, Dead Sea cosmetics and fancy furniture.

But what Anat was most excited for me to experience was the nightlife. ‘Most people are freelance,’ she explained, ‘so we wake up when we want and party all night.’ That they do. I was paraded through designer bars including Shpagat, into Social Club for cocktails and then to the Berlin-style nightclub Block for dancing. Clubbers were coolly but casually dressed, friendly and all spoke impeccable English. One man I chatted to claimed to sell fake Kabbalah wine to Madonna and Donna Karan.