"It ain't pink mate, it's purple"

Aye, this place was my first home in Israel, a place I called home for almost a year. It was once painted all pink and purple, and called, remarkably, The Purple House. A legend amongst us backpackers at the start of the 90's.

Its heyday was pre-pre-Internet, I'm afraid, and the only link I could find was this little one (they're wrong in saying that the place closed down during the Gulf War - I was there, complete with my gas mask and a few other hardy souls - this is the same place I ran back to when the sirens blasted out, as told here)...

There's a lot of memories behind the rundown, dirty facade, some of which I'd better not go into, what with the ancestors looking on...let's just say a lot of beers were downed, a lot of sand was brought home from the beach across the road, and local girls were, well, lusted after. I won't mention the water-bombing incident, or the drug OD-er, or the Arab employees getting beaten up by police...

My first night in Israel was spent here (as well as most of the nights for the subsequent year), so despite its current sorry state, I still have a big spot for the place in my heart. I'm looking at each of the windows and balconies, and there's a flood of faces coming back to me...

Extra bonus point to anyone who can give me the street it sits in. Clue: it's mighty close to the sea.