There I meet Or Aleksandrowicz, great-great-grandson of Yosef Eliyahu Chelouche, who worked all his life for coexistence between Jews and Arabs, and lamented the Ashkenazim's (European Jews) lack of knowledge of Arabic language and culture. The Chelouches spoke fluent Arabic and shared similar conservative social mores. They hoped to be a bridge between the two peoples but were eventually marginalized by the Ashkenazi establishment. Or Aleksandrowicz, an architect in his thirties, tells me over a glass of the BrewHouse's trademark dark ale, "Today we see the differences between Jews and Arabs as irreconcilable, but Yosef Eliyahu had a unique approach. The Chelouches were Palestinian-born Jews who wanted to modernize their homeland not as colonizers from outside but as people born there."

Many of the Chelouches were born in Neve Tsedek, Tel Aviv's oldest quarter, founded in the late nineteenth century and now one of the most sought-after areas in Tel Aviv. Its social center is the Suzanne Dellal Centre for Dance and Theatre, which opens onto a sunny plaza. Until the center was established in 1989, Neve Tsedek was run-down and neglected. Then Tel Aviv discovered its history, triggering a wave of gentrification. Property prices are far out of reach for many locals: An 800-square-foot apartment with an 86-square-foot terrace recently fetched $480,000. They complain that Jewish families from France and Russia are forcing up prices by purchasing apartments that they use only a few weeks a year, during the holidays. The thirty-three-floor Neve Tsedek Tower, which stands just outside the conservation area, has triggered particular anger. The building looms over the quarter, totally out of scale with its environs. But Tel Aviv's urban density means that skyscrapers, which offer the most profitable return for developers, are probably the future.

But for now at least, Neve Tsedek retains its single-story nineteenth-century pastel-colored houses, home to designer boutiques, ice-cream parlors, and antiques shops. Its narrow streets are surprisingly tranquil and retain a romantic village atmosphere.

Tel Aviv also has a hidden history. Neve Tsedek and Rothschild Boulevard were built on empty sands. But as the city spread inland and north, it swallowed up the remains of numerous Arab villages, whose inhabitants had fled or were driven out in 1948 (depending on which history books you read). Some villages were absorbed into Tel Aviv, others flattened. The Hilton Hotel is built on top of a Muslim cemetery. It is unimaginable that an Israeli hotel would be built over a Jewish cemetery. Salameh is now the Kfar Shalem neighborhood, home to poorer Jews from Arab countries, many of whom are threatened with eviction to make way for new developments. The Sumayil project, one of Tel Aviv's largest residential developments, smack in the middle of the city, will be constructed on the site of the former Arab village of the same name. The Tayelet, the seafront promenade, is built on the remains of Manshiyyeh, Jaffa's northernmost suburb.