Eilat

Eilat is one of the youngest cities in Israel, but the head of the gulf has been used for far longer: the biblical harbours of Elath and Ezion-Geber are placed somewhere at the head of the gulf, perhaps on the Jordanian side, and copper from Timna to the north was worked from antiquity. Through the Islamic, Crusader and Ottoman centuries the shore held little more than a way station and wells, and by 1948 the site of Umm Rashrash held only an abandoned police post of five clay huts.

Israeli forces reached the Red Sea here in March 1949, at the close of the 1948 war, in an operation that raised an improvised flag over the site. The town was laid out in the 1950s as a strategic outpost, a port and a link to the Indian Ocean, and its harbour opened in 1957. The population grew slowly, drawn by port work, the Timna copper mines and a pipeline carrying oil north from the gulf. A frontier reputation for heat, hard work and cheap rent lasted well into the 1970s.

Tourism transformed the place from the 1970s onwards, as charter flights brought northern Europeans to guaranteed winter sun and the coral reef was recognised as a diving destination. Hotel towers filled the northern shore, a lagoon and marina were dug behind the beach, and the city was made a VAT-free zone in 1985 to encourage the trade. The peace treaty with Jordan in 1994 opened the crossing to neighbouring Aqaba. Ramon Airport, in the desert to the north, replaced the old runway that once cut through the middle of town, freeing land for building.

Eilat's culture is that of a resort at the end of a long road. Much of the working population arrives for a season, from elsewhere in Israel and from abroad, and the city has long attracted people looking for a place to start again; the result is an easy-going, informal town where beachwear is acceptable almost anywhere and religious observance is lighter than in most of the country.

Music and the sea shape the calendar. The Red Sea Jazz Festival, running since 1987, brings international musicians to open-air stages at the port, and smaller festivals and holiday concerts fill the hotels at Passover and Sukkot. Diving is more than a pastime: dive clubs, marine biologists working on the reef, and the research station studying coral in the gulf give the city a scientific side that visitors rarely see. Birdwatchers form another seasonal community, drawn by the migration that crosses the Arava twice a year.

The borders are close enough to be part of daily awareness. Aqaba's lights are visible across the water, the Egyptian frontier lies a few kilometres down the shore, and the Saudi coast is in view on a clear day. Residents are used to living in a small, remote city where everyone knows the same handful of streets, and to the seasonal rhythm of crowds arriving and leaving.

About 55,000 people live in Eilat, in apartment neighbourhoods climbing the slopes behind the hotels. The economy rests on tourism above all — hotels, restaurants, dive centres and boats — with some light industry and the desalination and services that keep a city alive in a place with no fresh water of its own. The port, long the other mainstay, shut down in July 2025 after the blockade of Red Sea shipping. Work is seasonal and often low-paid, and housing costs are high for the wages on offer, a long-standing local complaint.

The day is arranged around the heat. Shops and offices open early, the middle of the afternoon is quiet, and the promenade fills again at dusk, when families walk the seafront and the marina restaurants set out tables. The working week runs from Sunday to Thursday, and Eilat keeps more of its businesses open on Shabbat than most Israeli cities.

Isolation is the other constant: the nearest large city is several hours away across the Negev, deliveries come by a single road, and the weather in summer confines much of life indoors. Tourism numbers have fallen since the wider regional conflict began, and the airport, the hotels and the seasonal workforce feel that first. Water, power and the fragile reef just offshore are permanent subjects of local argument, as is the pressure of new building on the little open land the city has left.

Eating in Eilat is resort food with a Middle Eastern base. Fish and seafood from the Red Sea and further afield are grilled or fried and served with a spread of small salads, olives, pickles and warm pita, the meze table that opens almost every sit-down meal in Israel. Hummus, falafel and shawarma are the everyday staples in the town centre, where small grills feed residents and seasonal workers rather than tourists.

The city's mixed population shows on the menu. North African Jewish families from the Negev's older towns brought couscous and chraime, fish poached in a spicy red pepper and tomato sauce, and Yemenite kitchens contribute malawach and jachnun, rich layered breads eaten with grated tomato and a fenugreek relish called hilbeh. Bedouin hospitality in the surrounding desert runs to bitter cardamom coffee, sweet sage tea, flatbread baked on a domed griddle and rice with lamb.

The Arava valley to the north supplies much of what is eaten: Medjool dates from the plantations along Route 90, vegetables grown under desert irrigation, and dairy products from Kibbutz Yotvata, whose flavoured milk is a national institution and whose roadside stop is a fixture of the drive to Eilat. Israeli wines from the Negev highlands appear on most wine lists, and the promenade's cafés serve the strong coffee and fresh juices that are standard across the country.