SIf Elad Horn found himself on Tuesday evening at the beginning of January in front of the central bus station in the south of Tel Aviv, one might hardly understand his words. Cars would honk, taxi drivers scream, homeless people beg, drug addicts let off steam. “The central bus station is one of the ugliest, most depressing places in the world, and at the same time it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen,” says Horn. And that he can be heard easily is because he is in his office, in front of his computer, having a video call. The 38-year-old architect offers tours for tourists, at least if they are allowed to visit Israel. “The bus station should actually be torn down now, I hope that I can show it to many visitors beforehand.”
Israel’s current pandemic policy is almost as confusing as Horn’s enthusiasm for the bus station. Given the Omicron variant, cases have more than tripled in the past week. Experts estimate that one in four Israelis will be infected in the coming weeks. Nevertheless, the government is now loosening the corona measures and moving away from one of the toughest rules to date, the entry ban for foreigners. From Sunday, January 9th, vaccinated tourists will be allowed to come once more, and that this will happen now, of all times, gives hope: Will Tel Aviv be a travel destination once more in 2022?
In any case, the central bus station is a good place to pick up future visitors and take them on a tour of a city that has changed radically in the two years of the pandemic. And to understand why the bus station should be demolished in the course of this change, one first has to imagine this building. The first construction work began in 1967, just a few months following the Six Day War. Three to four million people lived in Israel then, half as many as today. Investors were driven by the idea of building the world’s largest bus station in this small country – a megalomania made of steel and concrete. The dirty-gray block is called the “white elephant”, and the building has spread like an elephant – and flattened the village district around it.
The heart of Tel Aviv
It was opened in 1993 and has since been a nightmare on seven floors, especially for backpackers, exchange students and volunteers. Because the buses to Jerusalem, Eilat, Tiberias leave from the top floor. Thanks to a confusing system of stairs and stairs, criss-crossed by corridors with shops, even those familiar with the area can sometimes only find their way to the bus platform when the planned bus has left. “The wandering through the train station was part of my everyday life for years,” says Elad Horn, who, among other things, studied at the Bezalel Art School in Jerusalem – and lived in Tel Aviv. But the more familiar Horn became with the abysses of the building, the more his enthusiasm for it grew. “This place is the heart of Tel Aviv.”
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