"I hate it here", says our Israeli taxi driver, swerving, swearing and speeding through the streets of Tel Aviv at 3am.  

We were on our way back to our hotel after an interesting hipster bar crawl:  The Breakfast Club, Betty Ford and Evita (Israelis love camp), minus one member of our group who hadn't yet had enough.  He was on his way to the Russian discos that are pumping all night.  About half a million Russian emigres had settled in Israel as part of an unconditional tenant that allows anyone of Jewish heritage in.  Totally non-religious, the Russians have done a lot for Tel-Aviv nightlife, bringing a little bit of that nihilistic, oportunistic decadence with them.  If want it and you're willing to pay for it, its yours.

"Why do you hate it here sir?" I asked.  You should never be afraid to ask questions in Israel, even about politics.  Israelis love to talk, no subject is off limits.  "I use to live in New York City fifteen years, and I miss it."  he continued.  "This is the New York City of Israel, but these people, they are animals!"  

I had no idea what he was talking about, but wrote it off to a fit of road rage.  Tel Aviv was fabulous.  Like Rio de Janeiro in the early 90's.  A city on the beach, beautiful people, nightlife, fashion, artists, surfers.  Except for the occasional kosher bar and everything closing early on Friday afternoon for shabbat, you could forget you were actually somewhere dominated and defined by religion and conflict.  Except for the security guards of course.  Big, thick men with dark-sunglasses and guns who searched your bags before you entered any trendy restaurant or bar, day or night.

Earlier that day, we'd strolled along Sheinkin Street, according to Time Out Israel, once the bohemian mecca, now commercialized like St. Marks Place.  We lunched at Oma & Ella, whose sweet potato latkes and ceviche were out of this world. I shopped at NoName, Israel's answer to American Apparel (cotton casuals manufactured in the homeland).

We also wandered around Neve Tzedek, the Tribeca of Tel Aviv just outside the old city of Jaffa, with its cafes, wine bars and art galleries.  We felt so comfortable, we marveled at how gentrification looks and feels the same in so many places.

And then we wrapped up the afternoon with a stroll on the white sand oceanfront promenade.  The waves were blown out, but the winds were whipping: a good day for the kiteboarders, another sport invented in Hawaii.  A small drumming circle took place at sunset on the pier: hippie hold-outs, who must be cursing the growing commercial interests, transforming "beach" into "resort".

We'd had just a day and two nights to soak up the sensations of Tel-Aviv.  Too little by a week.  The World Heritage site of the "White City", the largest collection of Bauhaus and Art Deco buildings, was just a drive-by blur to me, and I never got to check-out the other scenes that intrigued me: the trendy bar "Jewish Princess"; the prison-themed dance club "Oz", and "C.U.N.T.", a roving lesbian party.

But even in a city that doesn't sleep, I had to.  I crawled into my plush bed at the towering David Intercontinental and opened the drapes wide, so I might continue exploring  the city 17-floors-below, in my dreams.

For more information about visiting Israel, see the official website: www.goisrael.com.