“There's nightlife in Sderot?” – That’s the standard surprised reaction I got from everyone who heard I was planning to head there on Thursday night to party in the capital of the Gaza border area, have a few drinks, listen to music, and meet new people. We start at Basel Bar, a lively and refreshing student pub, where the smiling face of the founder of the Jewish state is painted on the wall—his eyes gleaming, gazing proudly at the bar coming back to life after the war.
The stylish container village run by the Ayalim Association in the city of Sderot is a well-appointed student housing complex, where the strong scent of oven-baked pizzas and a sweet tropical cocktail that smells like a vacation in Thailand fills the air.
Hanging out in Sderot
(Video: Assaf Kamar)
“Welcome to Basel Bar,” greets us Michal Yofedov, a communications student at Sapir College and one of the dedicated entrepreneurs behind the local student pub. “Basel Bar was created by students, for students, but it also welcomes families and the broader community in Sderot and the Gaza border area.”
The south is licking its wounds and trying to return to normalcy, and the start of the academic year has brought a young and diverse crowd from across the country to the new pub in the Gaza border area—an intimate atmosphere reminiscent of Ko Pha Ngan. They eat pizza, drink beer, smoke nonstop, talk about the best parties in South America, and try to get to know one another.
A long line forms at the bar as the hardworking bartender keeps up with demand. Yofedov fixes me a yellow cocktail with a sweet tropical flavor and emphasizes that “Basel Bar isn’t just another bar, it’s a social initiative with affordable prices for students, and all the profits go back to them. We host different music nights, stand-up evenings, and local musicians—it’s a really nice vibe here.”
So, are there any good-looking guys?
Yofedov laughs: “I think so, there are definitely a lot of handsome singles here, I promise. Sderot is gradually becoming the center of the Gaza border region, and Basel draws a lot of people, especially in the evenings. There’s not much to do in Sderot, and this amazing student pub brings us all together like one big family.”
What’s on the menu?
“Focaccia with dips, labneh and olive oil salad, grilled halloumi salad, and a baby mozzarella salad with crispy sweet potato. There are oven-baked pizzas, beer and pasta, mostly Italian food. The menu was designed to give a sense of home, especially for students living far from their families, without inflated prices.”
Two first-year communications students sitting at the bar offer me a dramatic interview with a scoop, in exchange for free cocktails. Their names are Ofek and Shaked, originally from Petah Tikva, and tonight they’re taking their first steps into Sderot’s nightlife scene. “Honestly, it’s really fun here" Ofek says "Look how many people showed up, it’s a kosher bar with a great vibe, it feels like home, and it really adds to the student atmosphere.”
We move on to Resek, one of the liberal strongholds in the Gaza border region, bringing together local partygoers, eccentric filmmakers, musicians, and artists—kibbutzniks, moshavniks, and city folk alike. A white light illuminates the ruins of the city’s well-known police station, destroyed in the bloody battles that raged in Sderot. In the freezing desert night, a haunting memorial to the victims murdered in Sderot on October 7 lights up the darkness, colliding with the buzz of the evening and pulling us back into the reality of a wounded city trying to return to life after war.
At the heart of Resek’s story is talented filmmaker and local entrepreneur Ela Dagan, who had the courage to open an optimistic and authentic bar last year, in a city under bombardment and in the midst of war.
“Resek was meant to be a refuge for those who live here, to offer something uplifting. That’s the goal, and it didn’t come from a place of naive optimism but from a real need. People had nowhere to go. Nothing to do. We wanted to be together, to find strength, to enjoy ourselves.”
After everything we’ve been through in the past two years—is it really possible to enjoy life?
“Yes, and even along the way we found moments to enjoy. It’s not black and white, it’s still hard and people are still suffering, but joy, love and togetherness are important at all times.”
At the bar, I meet Shahar Amran, who oversees the artistic side of Resek, including parties, DJ sets, stand-up performances, rock bands, film nights—anything that gets people out of the house in the evening. “I work in the kitchen here and organize the parties and DJ sets,” he says with a half-smile. “I’m the spiritual resident of Resek.”
When he describes Sderot’s nightlife, it sounds like an authentic community with a deep appreciation for music and contemporary culture: “There are a lot of parties and a lot of fun. People come here from all over the Gaza border region, and this is where they meet each other. They listen to music; things are happening here. Everyone’s at home, alone, drinking a glass of wine, so don’t stay home alone. Just come here and let’s be together.”
I ask if it’s possible to find love at Resek, and he laughs: “I haven’t seen it happen yet, but the potential is high.”
And then we move into the culinary phase of the evening. After an excellent Negroni cocktail, I dive into a fantastic house-made pizza—and regardless of Sderot, the war, or the spirit of resilience—Resek’s pizza is simply outstanding, on par with Tel Aviv’s best. I also sampled a top-notch pasta dish and went back to my Negroni. In true Florentin-style fashion, a talented young filmmaker—who met her musician partner exactly one year ago at the very table where I’m now sitting—has come down from Tel Aviv for a deliberate reenactment of that romantic first date.
“We drink and have fun, but there’s pressure"
A young man with a well-groomed beard from one of the nearby kibbutzim joins the conversation about the romance of Sderot’s nightlife and reminds us that just a few days ago, there was a Red Alert here.
“We’re still not at ease,” he shares with a kind of uncharacteristic masculine candor. “We drink and have fun—but there’s pressure, this lingering feeling that something’s not right. We come to sit together, try to enjoy ourselves, but it’s hard to say we’re enjoying it fully—we’re doing our best.”
On the other side of the bar, surrounded by friends, local musician and nightlife regular Tzachi Lublin insists that despite everything, the war and what we've been through, joy is essential. “After a long stretch of hard times, the return to routine brings good things, and Resek is one of them. When the cannons roar in Sderot—the muses roar louder, getting people out of the house to drink, have fun, and connect. Good will always overcome the bad.”
When asked whether it’s really possible to enjoy life after two years of war, he gives an answer that becomes the evening’s motto: “Is it possible? It’s necessary. To truly return to normal life, we need pleasure, joy, fun, and social gatherings that aren’t only about memory and pain. Dear friends, come experience the nightlife in Sderot. I promise—it’s like nothing you’ve seen before.”
Approaching midnight, we head to the parking lot when my designated driver suddenly starts dancing. We're drawn in by an excellent live electronic set, like children following the Pied Piper, toward one of the most exciting discoveries of Sderot’s nightlife: The Salon.
It’s a dimly lit bar with carefully crafted lighting, a vibe straight out of a nature party, and the humble chef from Resek—now DJ SACHNEUMS—is lighting up the night with a live set that feels nothing short of legendary.
For me, having a beer and losing myself in good music in Sderot—that’s the ultimate victory.
Just an hour from Tel Aviv and half a minute from Gaza, there’s an authentic and moving nightlife experience, modest, vibrant and full of warmth. It’s made up of people who don’t want to stay home alone, and despite the war and the pain, they choose to go out, have fun, and try to live.