A marketing masterclass in the Middle East

Our string quartet diarist Anthea Kreston is in Israel this week:

Walking in the old market in the port town of Jaffa, a 4,000 year old city abutting bustling, cosmopolitan Tel Aviv, I took a deep breath in. The stands of roasting nuts, the men huddled in conversation over cups of steaming tea, the buildings, with wires sticking out, crumbling facades and large cracks running jaggedly across sagging balconies, the carpet merchants with their eyes an inch from their old, battered wares, needles going up, coming down. I first took a walk around the perimeter (this is of course a loose perimeter – the Jaffa Market spills over, slides down alleyways), took a few forays into one stall, then the next. You have to duck to enter, the clothing or bells or lamps hang low, the walls lined with rough shelves, stacks of textiles from the ground to the ceiling, the air is thick with the smells of food, cigarettes, mouldering cloth. Then, I turned the corner, and peered into the heart of the market. A skinny little walkway, filled with men bantering, just a hint of light coming through the open roof. Taking a deep breath, I entered. I knew what I was getting into – haggling, compliments, questions, and this was going to be fun. The entire row of merchants turned my way, waving me towards their stalls. The first man said “what are you, a model?  So tall and beautiful!”, and it went from there.

I was a little overwhelmed, and decided to see if I could keep a steady but slow pace and make it to the end of this alley. Beautiful things hung everywhere – parts of old chandeliers, Bedouin clothing, scarves, jewelry, inlayed chess sets. I made it, then took one more loop around before sucking in and going in with a purpose – to find memorable things to bring back to my family from my magical week in Israel.

I was attracted by the small metal purses, silver studded with rough-cut stones inlaid. As I reached forward, the seller came out, taking the purse off and hooking it over my finger. 200 shekels. “How many daughters? I feel close to you – you have a big spirit – for you – 2 purses for 300”. We were laughing and enjoying ourselves – and for some reason, he though he could clinch the sale by showing me something on his phone. I assumed a photo of his seven kids, but up popped a video of his wife giving birth – head coming out and wife in full out bloodcurdling scream. An interesting sales technique, I must say. As he held this very closely to my face, I quickly thanked him – he noticed my reticence somehow, deftly turning the conversation around – “you have the face of a wise woman – are you a doctor? What are the names of your children?”

I did make it through – some belly dancing accoutrements, two old rings, and matching silver perfume bottle necklaces tucked into my backpack.

We are in a huge traffic jam, in the van being driven back to Tel Aviv from our Jerusalem concert. Being on tour in Israel is an absolute treat. We are based in the same boutique hotel just off the beach in Tel Aviv for five days, and we are driven back and forth to Jerusalem and Haifa. The audiences are funny – involved, a mix of ages, and they clearly show their preferences of the pieces – clapping wildly, in rhythm, and a funny thing – many people wave at us while we are bowing. Tonight, in Jerusalem, I was told that there numbered over 100 Holocaust survivors in the audience.

Tomorrow we have the day off, and I will meet a local architect at the old clock tower in Jaffa, an hour’s walk from the hotel. I met her through an organization which has local volunteer guides who will show you around town. I gave her tickets to Tel Aviv, and she came back stage after – a middle-aged woman with wild hair (my hair here in Israel feels like it is having some sort of homecoming – it seems like every second person I see has exactly my same hairdo – crazy and out of control) and a vintage knee-length jacket retrofitted with an impressive array of odd buttons – I think we will get along handsomely.

This past Sunday, I was home for one of my 14 hour quick-fix visits – help with dinner, clean, grocery shop, practice with the girls, do laundry, when I woke up at 2 am. Jason found me in the bathroom, in bad shape with a nasty stomach virus. After a couple of rounds, I go back into the other room, and drag a blanket and pillow into the bathroom. By 5 am I texted Quartet, and by noon it became abundantly clear that the concert that evening in Dortmund would have to find another solution. The wonderful Armeda Quartet stepped in for us, ending their program with the Schubert Cello Quintet, the second cellist being our very own Artemis cellist.

I recovered sufficiently to get my 5 am cab to the airport for the flight to Israel, and am nearly back to full strength. The Tel Aviv concert was a stretch, because I hadn’t had anything solid to eat for 4 days, but it went without hitch and I really really really hope I can eat some of the amazing locals foods tomorrow.

We are almost back to the hotel – out driver is driving like a absolute maniac and the boys are drinking beer in the back seats. Fun times.