Written by Miranda Murray, Secret Tel Aviv Guest Blogger
There’s an art to becoming a bar regular, but Salon Berlin makes it easier than others for a non-Hebrew-speaking expat. Somehow the re-purposed classroom chair I always sit in outside, smoking cigarettes and watching the patio at Pappas, is magically open whenever I swing by on a random Tuesday night. The only place I’ve found that serves Spaten beer, with a killer happy hour to boot, Salon Berlin rarely disappoints with its gruffly polite waitstaff and old-man regulars, who are always a few too many drinks in no matter what time it is. Foreigners, hipsters, old men, lovers – everyone comes here.
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