A small lane that does not even have a name, but only a cadastral number. Here is one of the entrances to the covered part of the flea market, here is a riot of graffiti and a few very small and quiet places where local youth hang out. Restaurants are not at all entourage. Everything to the impossible is simple and democratic. It seems that the furnishings are made by local craftsmen, who are in that much, and it is difficult to call it an interior. However, the indescribable friendliness and simplicity of these places and the people in them bribes with its immediacy and invites you to just sit down. You may not find value in drinking and eating here, but relax in the atmosphere. Translated with Google Translate
Jaffa, in the evening, on the streets of the flea market, becomes a completely different city. Midday noise, scorching sun, trade and junk disappear, and restaurants, boutiques, bars appear in the laboratory and people's faces become noticeable, and their smiles, music is heard and wine aroma appears in the air. Translated with Google Translate
Don't be afraid to get lost in new places!
