Guests at Rudas’s historic Turkish baths are now required to wear two aprons – one front, one back

Try walking into these baths today wearing an apron, and the hawk-eyed staff will quickly jump from their perch by the main pool and gesture that you need to cover up. They’ll discreetly hand over another apron, to cover your rear. Apparently, apron skirts are now Rudas Baths’ fashion standard.

Since the start of 2025, actually, with occasional visitors still catching up, since it was never publicized on official spa channels, guests at Rudas’s historic Turkish baths have been formally required to wear two aprons – one front, one back.

The change may sound like a minor wardrobe update, but it has sparked surprisingly passionate debate among regular bathers, history enthusiasts, naturists, and curious tourists. Some welcome the additional privacy. Others say a centuries-old tradition just quietly died.

Why did one of Europe’s oldest Turkish baths decide to rewrite its own dress code? 

Rudas Aprons – What Actually Changed?

In December 2024, Rudas introduced a rule requiring guests on single-sex Turkish bath days to wear two aprons instead of one. Covering both sides of the body became mandatory rather than leaving it optional, as it had been for as long as anyone could remember.

Pipeaway reached out to the baths for an explanation. The response, signed by Sales and Marketing Director Szilvia Czinege, read:

“We previously received several guest complaints about the inappropriate behavior of some guests, and after a discussion with regular guests, we decided on this measure, which we believe is better suited to hygiene conditions as well.”

I followed up asking about the consultation process, the volume and nature of the complaints, statistics on guest suspensions, and the broader history of the bath’s dress code. Despite repeated emails, Rudas chose to leave the questions hanging.

We can only speculate about the reasoning behind the management’s silenzio stampa, but it does suggest they would prefer the topic not to be discussed at all.

Reading this newest statement against Rudas’s history of PR on sensitive decisions, “inappropriate behavior” looks like the polite institutional Hungarian for people were having sex in the baths again. Even if an open-air gay intercourse at Rudas, inflated to mythical proportions (with some interpreting this notion as a way to deter the public attention from true decision motifs), was a real occurrence, it is not clear how an additional piece of hanging fabric could prevent this behavior from happening. Does Rudas know how sex works?

On the other hand, noting “hygiene conditions” in the context of the discussed garment change sounds like bolting a fig leaf onto another fig leaf. Despite the effort to present the rule as partly clinical, the previous, equally controversial spa communication on public health concerns regarding full-coverage swimsuits reveals that the reasoning behind the inconsistent approach to dress codes might indeed be the hygiene – but a moral one.

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A Tradition Older Than Modern Hungary

To understand why two scraps of fabric caused this much noise, we first need to rewind five centuries, to when Ottoman architects turned the hot springs under Buda into one of Europe’s most remarkable bathing complexes.

Modeled on the hammams of Constantinople, the occupiers harnessed the power of the city’s thermal water as – therapy.

With its octagonal pool beneath a domed ceiling pierced by colored glass, Rudas remains one of the finest surviving examples of Ottoman bathing architecture in Europe.

While the rest of the building has been renovated several times over the centuries, the historic Turkish bath has retained much of its original character – part spa, part living museum.

Unlike modern swimsuits, the traditional bathing apron, known in Hungarian as kötény, was never intended to provide full coverage. Fastened around the waist, it covered the front of the body while leaving the back bare. It represented a compromise between modesty and practicality – dignity preserved, thermal water fully enjoyed, exactly as bathers had done for centuries.  

The apron’s peculiar design, covering the private parts while standing and, with a simple twist around the waist, covering the sauna chair when seated, became one of Rudas Baths’ defining quirks.

While locals wore it without a second thought, tourists often spent awkward minutes figuring out how to tie the Rudas apron correctly, and then shared amused & confused stories online.

Some dreaded it enough to bathe in swimsuits instead, or asked staff for a second apron, to fashion their very own mini-skirt of privacy (sic!).

When, in my 2017 article, I wrote that doing so would make you “look like an idiot” (I guess, in the same way how we short-sightedly made fun of our clueless elders shooting vertical videos on their first phones, long before stories were imposed as THE format), I couldn’t have imagined that someone would look at the most ridiculously-looking attire in the room and eternalize a two-part skirt as an official outfit policy.

Rudas Apron is More than a Dress Code 

Unlike modern spas, where visitors compete in branded swimwear, Rudas offered an experience that felt rooted in another era. On men-only days, everyone from Budapest retirees to nervous backpackers, from businessmen and politicians to those receiving social help, wore the same simple garment. The Rudas apron became an unlikely social equalizer.

Even if newcomers felt an initial embarrassment, it evaporated within minutes. Inside the centuries-old bathing hall, surrounded by men of every age and build, most visitors quickly realized nobody seemed particularly interested in anyone else’s appearance.

This surprisingly unremarkable rectangle of fabric had become part of Rudas’s identity, contributing to its cultural heritage.

Clothing traditions often preserve history, as reliably as buildings and monuments do. The Scottish kilt, the Japanese yukata, the Finnish sauna towel, and the yangmeori hat from the Korean bathhouse culture, all tell stories about the societies that made them.

At Rudas Baths, the bathing apron performed a similar role. It served as a quiet reminder that you weren’t visiting just another spa, but stepping into a living tradition that predates the country’s modern borders.

The historic Turkish bath has outlasted wars, fires, occupations, and revolutions. Empires rose and fell behind its stone walls while bathers continued soaking in the same way as always, the apron surviving the changes as well.

Until December 2024. The world’s most famous bathing rag quietly became a pair of modesty panels.

This Isn’t Budapest Baths’ First “Sex Scandal”

Beyond the brief official statement provided to Pipeaway, addressing behavior and hygiene concerns as reasons for the double-apron measure at Rudas, the baths management hasn’t elaborated further, leaving room for everyone to draw their own conclusions. 

The measure, introduced so silently, does seem odd and controversial, especially as Budapest Gyógyfürdői és Hévizei Rt. (BGYH), municipal company running the city’s thermal baths, has a history of dealing with sex scandals.

In 2004, a Hungarian TV2 reporter walked into Király Bath’s men-only session with a hidden camera and came out with footage of men soliciting, embracing, and having sex. The investigative exposé landed like a grenade in the national Tourism Ministry, which was actively using the historic bathhouses in its promotional campaigns, engaging even Tony Curtis to say: “Some like it hot”. The scandal triggered moral patrols and an immediate temporary ban on men-only days. After a short restitution, apron bathing at Király was formally phased out in 2011. Despite lowered prices, the struggle to attract non-gay clientele was real: the bath, weighed down by debt, never fully recovered its old status after introducing mandatory coeducational days. Its eventual 2020 closure is officially attributed to a lapsed hygiene license and an unaffordable renovation bill.

Then there’s Gellért Thermal Bath. German media revealed that, in 2007, insurer Hamburg-Mannheimer (later ERGO) organized a corporate trip to Budapest for its best salesmen. They had rented out the historic bath for a night and turned it into a “Freiluftbordell” (open-air brothel). Dozens of prostitutes entertained the company’s 100 top-performing agents at this “team-building” event.

We needed no investigative reporting to learn about naughty encounters in Budapest baths; some were self-documented. Both Gellért and Széchenyi Thermal Baths served as film sets for the adult industry. From Layne Derrick’s “Pools of Desire”, a 1999 homoerotic feature with dozens of fully naked men at Gellért, splashing, wrestling, and stroking each other during massage and rather touchy shower sessions, to more recent and explicit pick-up sex videos starring the likes of Chris Kubrick and Antonio Mallorca with female bathers, some of these racked up millions of views on specialized porn sites. Tony Curtis’s tourism spot never got close to the view counts of “some like it hotter” videos.

From Sausage Parties to Fake Masseurs

Besides amateur and professional porn makers, Széchenyi’s everyday visitors also overflow the spa with eroticism. Index.hu, for instance, described catching “group petting of young couples in love”.

Tripadvisor reviews back that up: body care in Budapest baths goes beyond just enjoying minerals. Due to a high proportion of men attending Sparty, Széchenyi’s late-night music event, users often described it as a sausage party and not the safest place for women. The upset visitors repeatedly highlighted floating condoms, groping serious enough to require therapy, and a significant number of other sexual assaults.

Gellért received its portion of reports for sexual activities in the pool, but also a series of reviews titled “Worst massage I have ever had”. Among them, several were serious safety incidents, where customers felt inappropriately touched by masseurs (this, or this), and even reception staff impersonating masseurs (sic!).

Unlike the undisclosed, unquantified complaints Rudas cites as justification for a dress-code overhaul, these well-documented incidents at other baths haven’t triggered, for instance, a ban on private events, late-night parties, or cameras in the bathhouse.

Most of the serious accusations made against the spa and security staff for not acting against the offenders, or being offenders themselves, remain officially unanswered (familiar?). When they do get to respond to online reviews describing guests crossing the line, Sparty’s team refers to them as “idiots” or “morons” ruining their great programs. Real accountability for not making the premises safe enough is dismissed. Because they “run online campaigns against inappropriate behavior” and “print warning posters”.

Modesty Panic as a Smoke Screen?

Is it a coincidence that private hires, boozy night programs, and not really regulated cameras (indistinguishable whether used for social media or porn production), all happen to be reliable revenue streams, and somehow never trigger the kind of moral intervention Rudas just applied to a piece of cotton?

Could it be that the dress code change and gradual adding of more and more mixed hours at Rudas uses a moral excuse in order to hide economic interest in attracting tourists, especially while the golden goose of Gellért endures extensive renovation, affecting the overall baths’ revenue?

Budapest is already thoroughly gentrified and swimming in visitors. They are accompanied by lobbies whose interests don’t always align with the wishes of traditional bath enthusiasts. Easier bath access to persons of any gender on any day of the week enables a more lucrative bath commodification. And that’s an argument that consistently follows supposed “moral regulation” of Rudas Baths.

Back in 2019, the management drew a furious petition from regulars after quietly cutting the beloved Friday Rudas Baths men’s day down to a few morning hours (back then until 12:45 pm; cut further since – to 10:45 am), converting the rest of the day to co-ed. The management left no room for blushing: “Our decision was influenced by both the increased tourist traffic and the prevention of widespread open-air sex.”

Titles screaming “Public sex gone out of control” seemed like a red cloth waved before the bullish society in which Viktor Orbán’s right-wing government had banned same-sex marriages and families, abolished gender changes, criminalized Pride, and modeled a string of anti-LGBTQ laws on Russia’s, while Fidesz co-founder, MEP József Szájer, was simultaneously fleeing a lockdown-violating gay orgy in Brussels by sliding down a drainpipe.

Framing gay men as suddenly dangerous after lunchtime, as if flipping some kind of hormonal switch at noon, is Szájer-level hypocrisy: kicking gays out when the clock ticks, when they get physically assaulted, or even when they just hold hands, while still cheerfully extracting money from those filthy queer wallets every morning.

Regulars who signed the petition didn’t buy the official “widespread open-air sex” story. “I don’t know what they are talking about”, said one. “Referring to public sex is a sham, it is a non-existent problem”, commented another. A third called it fiction, invented as an excuse “to be mad at gays”. A fourth summed it up bluntly: “What has been publicly communicated about the reasons is only to make people feel angry with gay people, while this was presumably done under pressure from lobbying by some companies involved in tourism.”

The Hygiene Paradox

Besides just correcting the male visitors’ afternoon behavior, this time around, Rudas Bath claims its motivation for adding an extra apron is to improve hygiene conditions, too.

But here’s the problem: a second wet apron, tied on and reused across a two-hour soak, sauna session, and steam room visit, isn’t more sanitary than one. If anything, it’s twice the damp fabric against skin, twice the laundry load…

It gets better: to address the double-apron demand as contradictory in terms of hygiene, we could quote a real expert: Budapest Baths.

You see, despite the official website’s FAQ containing information that both burkinis and bodysuits are welcome, real life has exposed that ladies (most often Muslim visitors) in ¾ swimming leggings have repeatedly been asked to leave for violating the etiquette (see here, or here).

Both in response to Fodor’s media inquiry and a Tripadvisor review, management explained that their policy allows only shoulder- and knee-long swimsuits. The rationale behind it is that more fabric results in an increased safety and hygiene hazard.

“Large swimsuits have a much higher water carrying capacity, leaving much more water coming out of the pools that can cause accidents. In addition, it is also a matter of public health concern, as there are more bacteria on a larger surface, and its evaporation in saunas and steam chambers is unhealthy”, the officials explained.

By that exact logic, two soaked aprons also have a much higher water retention than one (more accidents), as well as more bacteria (increased public health risks). And yet, the introduction of another mandatory apron got sold as the hygienic choice.

Double apron exposes Budapest Baths’ double standards: this was never about bacteria. The rule is clearly not a hygiene fix. It’s a rear-view fix, dressed in hygiene language. It’s a part of a broader tendency to regulate which bodies get to be visible in public and their effect on the comfort of the majority.

Looking for a relaxed clothing-optional experience with no judgment? Try naked hiking in Australia, naked bike rides in the UK, FKK beach-hopping in Makarska, an overnight stay at a Seoul bathhouse, or a nudist resort in Greece.

Rudas’ Second Apron Controversy – Conclusion

Rudas isn’t just a Budapest bath with single-sex days anymore. It’s the only one. Every adjustment Rudas makes to its single-sex sessions, therefore, isn’t just a policy tweak but the last living version of an Ottoman-era tradition being reshaped in pursuit of the tourist revenue every mixed-gender bath in the city now depends on.

Is Rudas walking Király’s road? The shape of the story is uncomfortably familiar: a historic single-sex bathing tradition under commercial and reputational pressure gets incrementally modernized to keep the peace, until what’s left barely resembles what people originally came for.

Each adjustment, stacked over years, nudges Rudas toward a more sanitized version of something that was never really about modesty to begin with. The apron was always a practical compromise between nudity and swimwear – a garment built for function, not virtue signaling. It let you enjoy the baths without fuss, and go home without a wet swimming suit weighing down your bag.

Budapest Baths has tangled itself into a modesty theater, where it needs to simultaneously argue that there could be too much AND not enough of fabric

The original apron wasn’t famous because it covered so little. It was famous because it represented continuity. It connected modern bathers to generations who tied the same knot under the same Ottoman dome. Replacing one apron with two may seem like a tiny alteration, yet symbols often matter precisely because they are small.

Budapest Baths has tangled itself into a modesty theater, where it needs to simultaneously argue that there could be too much AND not enough of fabric. Equally uneasy about Muslim women and gay men, it struggles in providing coherent answers, often choosing not to respond at all. But not addressing challenges doesn’t make them disappear.

If the real goal on men-only days at Rudas is total modesty, why keep the apron at all? Why not, instead of slowly cooking the moral crab, have enough public courage to simply require ordinary swimwear? The compromise at an unusual middle ground preserves the appearance of a historic tradition, but in a form that no longer reflects the original custom.

And if the objective is to put an end to an “inappropriate behavior” (something that Budapest’s mixed baths clearly struggle with as well, without triggering equivalent policing), is the modesty crackdown with a piece of half-transparent apron truly efficient? Or should the new dress code mandate chastity belts for everyone?

Once you open the moral Pandora’s box, where exactly do you draw the line?

What do you think about the new Rudas Baths apron rules?
Leave your comment below and pin the article for later!

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The post Rudas Baths Apron Controversy: Why Budapest’s Historic Spa Wants You to Cover Up? appeared first on Pipeaway.

Sometimes, to be heard, you first have to be seen

A scene of hundreds of nude bicycle riders rushing through downtown wearing nothing but sneakers and, occasionally, a helmet, is enough to freeze tourists mid-selfie. Vulnerable and exposed, the cyclists, however, are not here to make a scene. Rather, their stripping down comes with a message or, even more correctly, with messages. Sometimes, to be heard, you first have to be seen. And the protesters at WNBR, London edition, are definitely getting noticed.

The United Kingdom is not the only host of this peculiar hybrid of serious protest, quirky parade, and live social experiment. The World Naked Bike Ride happens across dozens of urban centers worldwide, where participants strip down, hop onto two wheels, and pedal for safer cycling, cleaner transport, reduced dependence on fossil fuels, and a healthier relationship with the human body.

There’s a lot to address and undress here. Beneath the screaming tabloid headlines lies a surprisingly serious conversation about how we move through cities, how we treat the planet, and how comfortable we are in our own skin. 

Here’s everything you need to know about nude cycling in London, and how to join the World Naked Bike Ride protest yourself.

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So, What Actually is the World Naked Bike Ride?

Before you write this off as exhibitionism under a cardio umbrella, know that there’s real history here.

The precursor of organized naked bike rides were the streaking incidents crashing major public events from the mid-1970s onward. Seattle’s Fremont Solstice Parade got hit with its own nude gatecrashers in 1992. What began as a mischievous streak of a handful of naked bikers, repeated year after year, and snowballed into the Solstice Cyclists, nearly a thousand body-painted Seattleites now regularly riding ahead of the official parade.  

Europe’s first proper cyclonudist march rolled out in Zaragoza, Spain, in 2001. Manifestación Ciclonudista gathered forty activists opposing the local traffic plan under the slogan “Naked before traffic”.

In Canada, the group Artists for Peace/Artists Against War was staging similar naked protests against oil dependency. Their figurehead, activist Conrad Schmidt, reached out to the Zaragoza crew, proposing to combine forces into one coordinated international event. In 2004, the WNBR concept was born.

After a couple of editions, the movement had sharpened its focus, trading the broader anti-oil rhetoric for a tighter emphasis on cyclist advocacy, with the body-positivity angle growing alongside it.

London’s very first World Naked Bike Ride pedalled through Hyde Park on 12 June 2004, with a modest 58 riders. Police on duty didn’t intervene, nobody was arrested, and the welcome was warm enough that a few fully clothed bystanders spontaneously stripped off on the spot and joined the group mid-ride.

Today, the nude protest movement spans roughly 20 countries and more than 70 cities worldwide, from Portland (the undisputed heavyweight, regularly drawing around 10,000 riders) to Mexico City to, somewhat improbably, Hungary.

While organized independently, the rides share a season (typically summer) and are actually clothing-optional. The unofficial motto “bare as you dare” covers everyone from the fully nude to those in underwear, body paint, or elaborate costumes.

What happens at a WNBR event? – London 2026 Case

This year’s edition of London’s World Naked Bike Ride broke a two-decade habit. It’s the first time the event didn’t run on its usual Saturday slot – a scheduling change organizers made to dodge the collision course with London’s increasingly congested calendar of road closures and demonstrations, as well as with Trooping the Colour, the King’s birthday parade.

Even if 22 years have passed from that inaugural ride through Hyde Park, the novelty shows no sign of fading. If anything, the crowds in the nude bike rally have multiplied; turnout now regularly runs into four digits.

The spontaneous joining still occurs, too. As I’ve witnessed following this naturist bike ride, a fully clothed man saw the procession passing by, unbuttoned his shirt, and jogged over to hire a bike from a nearby docking station. By the time I caught up with him at the next stop, the shirt was gone entirely. I could have easily imagined that, by the end of the nude parade, he would be in a state of complete undress.

Rather than one mass starting line, riders trickled in from nine different corners of the city: Clapham Junction, Croydon, Deptford, Hackney Wick, Kew Bridge, Regent’s Park, Tower Hill, and Wellington Arch, plus a shorter accessible route for less mobile participants. These separate streams of cyclists all braided together into one single skin-toned river the moment they hit Westminster Bridge.

Those not quite ready to go fully bare wore masks, wigs, and helmets for cover. Some would partially protect their identity at body paint stations installed at several starting points. Or did color shed an additional spotlight on them instead?  

One rider was proudly displaying a monkey drawn across his pubic area, its oversized “nose” swinging loosely. A bearded, endowed man walked casually with an arrow pointing south and the instruction “Grab if you care”. Another cyclist had a humorous message written above his behind – “Mind the gap”.

Some skin-written slogans were calling for cyclists’ security in car-crowded cities (“Can you see me now?”). Others advocated for the safety of the entire planet: “Less gas, more ass”, “Nude not crude”, “Save the rainforest”, “Stop the war”… 

Another way to beat the London heat without necessarily stripping down is heading to the English coastline. Littlehampton Beach officially doesn't encourage naturism, but on the West Beach, there's so much space that getting naked is certainly a possibility nobody would mind.

Besides bicycles, there were also alternative vehicles in this rolling street carnival: a skateboard, a unicycle, a kick scooter, rollerskates… Anything human-powered was welcome. Even the portable speakers were on wheels, rolling out a party soundtrack through Central London.

Spectator reactions along the route split roughly into three camps: delighted phone-wielding tourists, unbothered Londoners who’ve clearly seen it all before, and the occasional passer-by who looked a bit lost.

The procession wound down near Wellington Arch, after which a ticketed, also clothing-optional, afterparty kept the momentum going at The Steel Yard under Cannon Street Station.

Newbie in London? Here's how to make your first trip to Europe itinerary!

Why do people participate in WNBR?

Why in the world would people choose to ride naked, you ask. Beyond explaining nude cycling with exhibitionism, there are quite a few motivations that make people join a nude bike tour.

1. Cyclists are vulnerable 

When a person rides a bicycle alongside cars, buses, delivery vans, and lorries, many driven by people only half paying attention, they have very little protection. Drivers are surrounded by steel, airbags, seat belts, and engineered safety systems. Cyclists have helmets. Maybe.

The naked body serves as a blunt visual metaphor for that vulnerability. Participants use nudity to communicate that cyclists are exposed. Can you see them now? 

2. A Protest Against Oil Dependency 

Many organizers frame the naked bike ride as pushback against an excessive reliance on fossil fuels and private automobiles. Modern societies have been shaped around the assumption that driving a car is necessarily pragmatic. Opting for oil-powered journeys results in road networks expanding, parking lots multiplying, and public transport struggling for funding.

The World Naked Bike Ride asks us to imagine a reality in which cities would prioritize people instead of vehicles. What if cycling infrastructure felt so safe that anyone could use it? What if urban life revolved around human movement rather than traffic congestion?

3. Reclaiming Public Space

For a few hours, cyclists temporarily transform streets normally dominated by motor vehicles. Roads become places for people. Drivers are forced to slow down and observe something unusual.

A naked bike ride is a reminder that streets are public spaces, not simply corridors for cars.

4. Challenging Body Shame

Modern culture has built an entire economy around telling people their bodies need fixing: Lose weight. Gain Muscle. Hide the imperfections. Buy this cream. Use this filter. Download this app.

The World Naked Bike Ride quietly rejects that entire business model. Participants show up in every conceivable body type. Old and young. Athletic and non-athletic. Tall, short, slim, broad, tattooed, scarred, wrinkled, and everything in between. The event creates a rare environment where ordinary bodies are not only accepted but celebrated.

Despite what tabloids might suggest by highlighting outraged social media comments, thousands of people standing around naked are mostly surrounded with kindness – there’s far less judgment here than the internet dealing with anyone in a swimsuit.

Is the World Naked Bike Ride Protest in London Legal?

In England and Wales, public nudity isn’t automatically a criminal offence. The key legal consideration is intent. The law generally only gets involved when behavior is intended to cause harassment, alarm, or distress. Since the World Naked Bike Ride is organized explicitly as a peaceful protest, participants have historically ridden through cities like London without legal trouble.

Organizers have kept an open line with both the Metropolitan Police and the City of London force, and in some years, officers have even ridden alongside the group.

However, in recent years, Project 90/10, a child sexual abuse prevention charity, has campaigned for the ban of London’s annual naked bike ride. They even launched a petition calling on the government to tighten the relevant laws and safeguarding policies.

Where Else Can You Bare It – Famous WNBR Cities Worldwide

London, with a route passing by the city’s iconic landmarks, is perhaps Europe’s most famous naked bike ride, but it isn’t alone in this. The WNBR calendar runs through most of the cycling season worldwide.

The edition in Portland, Oregon, with an established cycling culture, remains the largest in the world by a wide margin – in pre-pandemic 2019, it drew 10,000 buck naked participants! Now, it runs two separate editions a year under different organizers.

Chicago, as a leading bike-friendly U.S. city, has become a significant annual event as well, drawing thousands of riders and spectators.

Vancouver and Toronto both pull enthusiastic crowds, while Montreal offers both a daytime and a night ride for those who prefer going nude without wearing SPF.

Australia’s rides, in places such as Byron Bay, Melbourne, and Sydney, regularly generate extensive discussions about sustainability and body image.

The World Naked Bike Ride protests continue to grow in Latin America, in Guadalajara and Mexico City, where cycling advocacy and environmental concerns remain increasingly important issues.

Bare-as-you-dare bike rides have also been held in New Zealand, Spain, Germany, France, Belgium, South Africa, and Brazil, among others.

Whether they attract a few dozen or several thousand riders, the message on these events stays remarkably consistent: Cyclists deserve safer roads. Cities deserve cleaner air. Bodies deserve less shame.

WHEN IS THE NEXT WORLD NAKED BIKE RIDE?

There is no single official World Naked Bike Ride Day. Events are scattered through the warmer months, city by city, so there’s a decent chance of finding upcoming organized clothing-optional bike rides in your region or the destination you travel to, before summer’s out.

In 2026, these are the dates for a selection of WNBR events, in chronological order: 

San Francisco - February 7 and 14, April 18, May 16, June 27, July 4, September 26, October 31
Melbourne - March 1
Byron Bay - March 8
Sydney - March 14
Brisbane - March 14
São Paulo - March 14
Manchester - June 12
Mexico City - June 13
Guadalajara - June 13
Toronto - June 13
New Orleans - June 13
Madrid - June 13
London - June 14
Vienna - June 19
Brussels - June 20
Thessaloniki - June 20
Seattle - June 20
Los Angeles - June 27
Milwaukee - June 27
Cardiff - June 28
Vancouver - July 4
Edinburgh - July 5
Chicago - July 11
Montreal - July 11
Amsterdam - July 11
Cambridge - July 18
Cork - July 18
Helsinki - July 25
St. Louis - July 25
Portland - July 25 and August 8
Buffalo - August 1
Berlin - August 9
Bristol - August 15
Brighton & Hove - September 12
Houston - September 12

Tips for First-Time Participants

Nude bike ride virgin? If you’re tempted to actually join next year rather than just gawk from the pavement, here is some essential advice:

1. Check your bike’s condition.

Make sure your bicycle has well-functioning brakes and properly inflated tyres. Navigating group rides can be challenging. You don’t want to negligently cause a collision and experience the contact of hard asphalt and bare skin. Also, wear a helmet.

2. Pick your saddle strategically. 

Skip the narrow road-bike saddles. They can be painful when riding in the nude. Consider a gel-padded seat cover or a wider, more cushioned seat. Even just a towel draped over your bike seat will reduce friction and protect your bare skin from direct contact with the saddle.

3. Use a seat cover on a public bike.

For hygiene reasons, don’t hire a rental bike (such as Santander Cycles and Lime Bikes in London) without bringing your own seat cover. Online complaints increasingly often refer to what gets left behind on a shared saddle. If you don’t have a dedicated cover, you can use a disposable shower cap or a spare T-shirt.

4. Put on proper footwear.

Closed-toe shoes will protect your feet. This is the one item of clothing nobody will judge you for keeping.

5. Wear sunscreen and sunglasses.

The most important thing to wear on the World Nude Bike Ride day is a high-quality sunscreen. Apply it generously, and not just on the obvious bits. The parts of your body that you rarely expose to direct sunlight will burn fastest and hardest. Treat them kindly. Protect your eyes as well, with sunglasses.

6. Hydrate.

Cycling for hours in the summer months can drain energy levels even when fully clothed. Bring enough water for the whole naked bike route, and actually drink it.

7. Keep pace.

Don’t overestimate your stamina. Try to keep up with the rest of the cycling pack. Lagging behind and riding naked in the streets alone is not fun.

8. Respect Photography Rules

Even if they strip naked for a public event, participants have varying comfort levels regarding photography. Before snapping a close-up photo of anyone, ask first. It’s not hard to be considerate.

9. Stay clothed outside the ride.

While the ride itself is legally protected as a protest, your commute between the route and your home is not. Stay clothed before the ride starts and redress promptly once it ends. Don’t take decades of police goodwill lightly.

WORLD NAKED BIKE RIDE PROTEST - QUICK FAQ

Do I have to be fully naked to take part?

No. Biking nude is not mandatory. The ride’s philosophy is “bare as you dare”, meaning everything from full nudity to body paint to a T-shirt is welcome.

Is it free to join the ride?

Yes. No registration or fee is required to ride. You might want some cash tucked away (in your sock, presumably) for the ticketed afterparty, though.

Is there an age limit for WNBR?

No. There is no specific age limit, even if WNBR advises against participation by minors. It’s ultimately a family judgment call, and worth noting that even riding fully clothed counts as supporting the cause if you’d rather your teenager keep their shirt on.

Is the World Naked Bike Ride sexual in nature?

Even if the ride surely attracts its share of people with exhibitionistic and voyeuristic tendencies, the event itself is widely regarded as a non-sexual protest centered on causes that have nothing to do with sex at all. 

Is body paint allowed at WNBR?

Absolutely. Body paint doubles as a message board, a costume, and festival spirit all at once. 

What should I bring if I’m riding?

Sunscreen, water, a seat cover, a bag for your belongings, sturdy footwear, and a bicycle that’s actually roadworthy. 

World Naked Bike Ride Protest – Conclusion

At first glance, the World Naked Bike Ride looks like pure exhibitionism. Thousands of naked cyclists rolling through a major city turn heads.

But that’s exactly the point. The ride is built on visibility. A vulnerable group of traffic participants is calling to be seen. They want safer roads and cleaner cities.

If a flash of skin on a Sunday afternoon is what it takes to start important conversations, then bare it all

Indeed, why do we tolerate dangerous streets so easily? Why do we design cities around traffic instead of people? Why are we comfortable with pollution but uncomfortable with human bodies?

The World Naked Bike Ride asks these questions loudly.

News reports often prioritize eye-catching photographs over discussions about cycling infrastructure or transportation policy.

As a result, serious issues sometimes receive less attention than bare bottoms.

Then again, without the bare bottoms, many media outlets would probably ignore the topic completely.

If a flash of skin on a Sunday afternoon is what it takes to start important conversations, then be it. Bare it all.

Did you like this full (frontal) guide to the World Naked Bike Ride protest in London? 
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We are a public service broadcaster, so we show the world as it isMichael Krön, ORF

Asked about the potential use of anti-booing technology, Austrian public broadcaster ORF, as host of Eurovision 2026, made a deliberate, public commitment to transparency. Producer Michael Krön stated it plainly at the media briefing on the day of the Semi-Final: “The crowd volume will be the same for all the contestants, and we won’t do anything about it. There will really be no conscious choice to avoid or soften the sounds in the arena. The world is as it is. We are a public service broadcaster, so we show the world as it is.”

So why did the world, as shown to viewers at home, look so conspicuously curated during Israel’s performance?

Despite Martin Green, the Eurovision boss, also speaking a lot about the freedom of speech, the EBU decided to censor the anti-Israel chants out of the official YouTube video of the act, replacing it with the audience soundtrack from the rehearsal, without informing the YouTube audience about it. 

Audience Caught in the Act

Do you remember those jihad-funding messages we found in last year’s Baby Lasagna’s performance, which initiated a cybercrime investigation and a large-scale takedown of YouTube videos? Well, this time, no frame-by-frame forensics was required. The editorial choices in question lasted seconds, not milliseconds, and they were visible to anyone who watched the broadcast with even modest attention.

At 01:37 into Noam Bettan‘s performance of “Michelle”, the broadcast cuts to two audience members with an Israeli flag, visibly singing along. At 02:20, three more people dressed in Israeli-themed costumes appear, this time directly in front of the camera, performing for it with unmistakable enthusiasm. Both shots are tight, deliberate, and flattering. Neither appears by accident.

Here is what makes that significant: Eurovision is not a spontaneous event. Every second of the live program is choreographed through weeks of technical rehearsals. Camera operators follow predetermined shot lists. Directors in the production booth make real-time choices, but those choices are made within a structure that has been planned and approved in advance. A close-up of fans having a time of their life does not make it to air because a camera happened to swing past them. Someone decided to put those shots in.

The question is: who?

The Eurovision boycott is ongoing - still confused why Russia is banned from Eurovision but not Israel?

Eurovision’s rule of six

If those shots were requested or coordinated by Israel’s broadcaster, KAN, the motivation could be very obvious – to visually neutralize the booing and protest chants that have followed Israel’s representative in Eurovision arenas in recent years (during the very same performance, off-camera chants of “Stop the genocide” broke through the broadcast audio; this interruption attracted significant public attention). Flooding the screen with smiling, flag-waving supporters is a textbook counter-programming tactic.

But if KAN directed those audience moments, a problem arises. Eurovision enforces a strict rule: no more than six performers may appear during an act.

This rule has been applied without sentiment. Last year, when a fake fan rushed the stage during Tommy Cash‘s “Espresso Macchiato”, she was formally counted as the sixth performer under the rule.

Yet, individuals, especially the trio enthusiastically singing directly into the camera, while the other audience members look in a different direction (direction of the stage), should leave an impression of a spontaneous shot? Either they are part of the act, in which case the rule applies, or they are not, in which case their appearance in directed broadcast shots becomes harder to explain.

If you want to see the questionable audience inclusion in the live broadcast (and boost Israel’s YouTube video), here it is!

What does the ORF say?

If we were completely naïve, we could think that ORF made an independent editorial decision to cut to supportive audience members during Israel’s performance (after asking them to turn toward the camera?). That explanation carries its own burden. If ORF’s directive is to show the world as it is, mid-song crowd reactions included, why was this courtesy in the first Semi-Final extended exclusively to Israel?

No other act in the first Semi-Final received a dedicated visual testimonial from its supporters mid-song

A review of the broadcast does not reveal comparable directed shots of enthusiastic fan sections during any other country’s performance. No other act in the first Semi-Final received a dedicated visual testimonial from its supporters mid-song. Why does Israel’s representative alone merit that treatment?

And if ORF was exercising its editorial freedom to focus on positive crowd reactions, what became of the commitment to showing “the world as it is”? The world inside that arena also contained people who did not share the shown enthusiasm. Viewers at home did not see that part of the world.

Showing fan support in the audience, especially at Eurovision, which made its name on a strong fan base, is not problematic as such. But usually, we see crowd reactions after the song, as every shot during the act is directed. When the audience enters the act itself, directly performing for the camera, they seem to be a part of the marketing. For the sake of transparency, Eurovision should respond to who decides which countries will be supported with such marketing.

We have approached both the ORF and the Eurovision press team for comment and explanation, and we will publish them when and if we receive them.

Do you think the inclusion of Israel’s fans in the live broadcast was directed?
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The post Did Israel Stage Audience Support at Eurovision in Vienna? appeared first on Pipeaway.

In the Sam Kong neighbourhood on the quieter north side of Phuket Town, people usually gather around Chillva Market for quirky accessories, a relaxed dinner, or a taste of local nightlife. Show up at dawn during Tesagan Gin Je, however, and the air feels entirely different: charged, almost electrically. When the Phuket Vegetarian Festival takes the Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine into its embrace, streets pulsate with devotees who display faith that conquers pain.

Some draw the blade across their tongues. Blood squirts over their arms

It begins with sound. Already at the first corner of Yaowarat Road – a street named after Thailand‘s first crown prince – a sharp metallic clang cuts through the morning stillness.

Around thirty barefoot men, dressed only in white trousers and ornately embroidered aprons, swing axes against their own exposed backs, skin already lined with cuts. Some draw the blade across their tongues. Blood squirts over their arms.

Check out the atmosphere in this YouTube short!

 

Those who descend deeper into trance don’t stop at surface wounds. Spikes, swords, sabers, sickles, sledgehammers, and secateurs adorn their faces as they walk the streets of Phuket Town. The tool needn’t begin with ‘s’ – it only has to fit through a hole pierced in the devotee’s cheek. A surprising number of things do.

The procession departs from Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine toward Saphan Hin Park at 6:45 am on the fourth day of a nine-day celebration honoring the Nine Emperor Gods. At one of the spiritually most significant Chinese shrines in Phuket, incense smoke and firecracker haze mingle in the early light, setting the rhythm for an act of disciplined devotion.

But Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine is far more than a festival backdrop. It is a living spiritual center, woven deep into the island’s Chinese-Thai heritage. This centuries-old Taoist temple rises magnificently from a thoroughly ordinary neighbourhood of food shops, schools, and flower stalls. That contrast makes the shrine feel otherworldly. Step through the dragon-wrapped columns, and the everyday will stay behind.

Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine History

Over a century before the axes came out at dawn, there was just a patch of land, a cement floor, some zinc walls, and a thatched roof on wooden posts.

Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine – variously spelled Lim Hoo Tai Soo or Loem Hu Thai Su, and also known as Sam Kong Shrine after its neighborhood – has served as a spiritual anchor for Phuket’s Hokkien Chinese community since its construction in 1914.

The temple’s congregation consists of descendants of migrants who left Fujian province in southern China during the 19th century, drawn to Phuket by the promise of work in the island’s booming tin-mining industry. They built businesses, planted roots, and, just as importantly, brought with them the temples, rituals, and religious traditions of home.

In an unfamiliar and often unforgiving environment, shrines weren’t a luxury. They were a lifeline: protective spiritual centers where communities prayed for health, prosperity, and the kind of stability that comes from feeling watched over by familiar gods. A number of these shrines took root across the island.

The land of Lim Hu Tai Su was donated in 1914 by Luang Sunthon Chinpracha, a member of a prominent Chinese-Thai family. Five years later, he formalized the gift, issuing a land title deed in the name of Muen Sam Kong, also known as Tan Boon-seng.

In the 1940s and 1950s, the original structures were expanded, renovated, and improved – first to corrugated zinc, then to tiled roofing – before being completely demolished and rebuilt from scratch in 1994.

Shortly after the renovation, the shrine’s caretaker summoned Hiew How, the sacred fire from China’s Kung Sai province, and with that ritual act, Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine formally became a full participant in the annual Nine Emperor Gods Festival, beginning in 1995.

Today’s complex reflects a blend of traditional southern Chinese temple architecture and local Thai influences: an elaborate ceremonial gate at the Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine entrance, curved tiled roofs, stone lion guardians standing watch on either side, and intricate serpentine golden dragons coiling around vivid red pillars.

Who Is Lim Hu Tai Su?

The shrine takes its name from its principal deity: Lim Hu Tai Su, a divine figure believed to hold power over illness. Its sacred statue occupies the main altar, surrounded by venerated images of other Chinese gods, including Nezha, the child-god of young rebels, and Guan Yin, the goddess of compassion.

According to local lore, Lim Hu Tai Su was once human – a former servant of the Chinese Imperial Palace, which explains an intriguing quirk recorded in the shrine’s history: when devotees first attempted to communicate with the deity through a spirit medium (ma song), nobody could understand a word of the responses. The deity, it turned out, was speaking in the formal regal dialect of the imperial court. It was only when the conversation switched to Hokkien, the mother tongue of Phuket’s Chinese-Thai community, that things began to flow.

Originally, the possessed medium would write medical prescriptions on golden paper, place them in a clay pot, and wait for nine joss sticks to burn completely before adding water. The patient would then drink the infused liquid.

Sacred texts that once documented the deity’s magical techniques in detail are said to have been lost over time, adding a layer of mystery to the shrine.

Nevertheless, many people still come to Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine specifically to pray for good health. A common ritual involves bringing traditional Chinese herbal medicines purchased from local shops and presenting them at the temple altar, asking the deity to bless them with healing properties before use.

Nine Emperor Gods Festival – When Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine Comes Alive

Throughout the year, Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine hosts Taoist ceremonies, merit-making events, and communal prayers. But it is during the ninth lunar month (typically falling in October) that activity intensifies dramatically.

The annual Nine Emperor Gods Festival – known locally as Tesagan Gin Je  – transforms Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine into one of the most compelling ritual spectacles in Southeast Asia. During those nine days, streets fill with white-clad devotees, spirit mediums walk on hot coals and pierce their flesh without apparent pain, and curious visitors from across the world stand on sidewalks with their mouths open, wondering what exactly they stumbled into.

The origins of the festival in Phuket trace back to the early 1800s. The most widely told story involves a troupe of Chinese opera performers who fell gravely ill while on the island. In a desperate bid for recovery, they adopted a strict vegetarian diet and prayed fervently to the Nine Emperor Gods for nine days and nine nights. When they recovered, they kept their vow by establishing a festival in honor of the gods, a tradition that has grown into one of Phuket’s most iconic events.

Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine’s formal integration into this festival is a more recent chapter. Before the shrine’s restoration in the mid-1990s, Lim Hu Tai Su worship during the festival was conducted from Bang Neow Shrine.

The Nine Emperor Gods Festival in Phuket was born in 1825. It all started at Kathu Shrine – learn more about it!

Festival Rituals at Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine

During the Nine Emperor Gods Festival, the atmosphere around the Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine is electric.

The temple grounds and surrounding streets fill with vendors selling vegetarian food, identified by the yellow flags bearing the red เจ symbol that mark every je stall.

The smell of incense, the pop of firecrackers, and the sight of crowds in white cotton are constant companions from dawn until well after midnight.

Each year, the Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine serves as the starting point for a ceremonial street procession that winds through the neighbourhoods of Phuket Town before finishing at Saphan Hin Park. Devotees line the streets to welcome the passing deity palanquins, makeshift altars appear in the doorways of homes along the route, and firecrackers shatter the air to usher in good fortune.

Among the most extraordinary aspects of the festival is the practice of spirit mediumship. Chosen devotees enter trance-like states, acting as vessels for deities, and performing feats of ritual self-mortification. They pierce cheeks and tongues with items ranging from skewers to umbrellas, as an act of faith believed to absorb pain and misfortune from the wider community.

Unlike the opening piercing rituals at the smaller Jor Soo Gong Naka Shrine, where photographers elbow each other to get a better shot, the fourth-day ceremony at Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine seems much calmer, allowing ma songs to breathe.

Besides enduring body piercings with elaborate metal implements, these spirit mediums, believed to be temporary carriers of deities, will not just join the moving corridor of sound and smoke through the town. Before the festival ends, they’ll also participate in a firewalking ceremony, crossing beds of hot coals, and climb a bladed ladder as another sacred act of purification and faith.

Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine – Practical Visitor Information

Getting There

Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine is located on Yaowarat Road in Sam Kong, a neighbourhood of three hills in Phuket.

It is a ten-minute drive from central Phuket Old Town. Chillva Market is just a three-minute walk away, while reaching the shrine from the Lotus’s hypermarket (a convenient place to park a car) will take 13 minutes on foot.

Entrance Fee

The shrine is free to visit, though donations toward renovation and charitable projects are welcomed and warmly appreciated.

When to Visit

The shrine is open daily (6:30 am – 8:45 pm), and can be visited year-round.

Weekday mornings are quiet and contemplative, the kind of visit where you can actually hear the incense burn.

The experience is atmospheric after dark as well. The amber temple lighting and drifting smoke transform the space into something genuinely magical.

For the full spectacle, time your trip to coincide with the Nine Emperor Gods Festival in October. Come prepared for crowds, noise, and the very real possibility that something you witness will be difficult to explain to people back home. Book accommodation well in advance, as this period is one of Phuket’s busiest.

Dress Code

Modest clothing is essential. Shoulders and knees should be covered. During the ceremonial periods, many participants wear white as a symbol of purity, though visitors aren’t strictly required to do so.

Remove your shoes before entering any inner sanctum. Do not point your feet at any deity or sacred object. In Thai and Chinese temple culture, the feet are the lowest, least sacred part of the body, and directing them toward something holy is considered not just impolite but disrespectful.

Photography and Respect

Photography is generally tolerated in public areas, but discretion is critical. Never obstruct a ceremony to get a better angle.

Never touch ritual objects. Maintain a respectful distance from spirit mediums and their assistants unless invited closer.

This is not a performance staged for visitors. Treat the shrine like a living sacred space.

Where to Stay near Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine?

Sam Kong isn’t Phuket’s most tourist-heavy neighborhood, but if you’re looking for a convenient place to stay near Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine, you’re in luck. Formerly known as L’atelier Poshtel Phuket, Shade House – Phuket Downtown is a hostel-style property that offers a range of accommodation options – from a Grand King Room with a bathtub to bunk-bed dormitories.

Compare Shade House rates for your chosen dates on Booking, Agoda, Trip, and Expedia.   

As you walk a wooden boardwalk to the hotel entrance, framed by thick nautical ropes, you might wonder whether you’ve boarded a pirate ship or stumbled into an earthly embassy of the Borg Collective. A dramatic, narrow tower, painted matte black and adorned with a grid of ornate terracotta panels, gives an industrial-gothic feel. What a stark contrast to the Sino-Portuguese buildings being renovated next door!

The edgy aesthetic doesn’t stop at the black façade and the dark gravel front yard. From walls, chandeliers, and medieval-tarot-style illustrations on arched doors, to bedding, towels, and toothbrushes, it all celebrates the color of the coal. In this striking universe, shaded in dark gray and pitch black, the somber feel is counterpointed by the meows of curious house cats and a lush green corner with a backlit 3D moon sculpture.

I stayed in a Double Room with Mountain View (number 404), a simple, cozy 25-square-meter top-floor chamber that offered an unexpectedly lush view I loved watching during the rain. Raw, unfinished plaster walls gave this compact but characterful space a “brutalist-meet-boutique” quality. The bedside lamp, mounted on a globe base, completed the digital nomad fantasy, especially if you’re open to productive work-from-bed sessions.

Get the impression of my room at the Shade House, Phuket’s darkest hostel gem, in this YouTube short! 

From baroque excess to neon lights, Shade House uses eclectic décor to present itself as an urban, stylish environment. It is also a very friendly space, where you’ll want to order that Turkish coffee at midnight.

Looking for something luxurious in the neighborhood? Check out our review of the Hilltop Wellness Resort in Phuket!

Where to Eat near Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine?

During the Phuket Vegetarian Festival, there are plenty of food stalls offering meatless specialties around Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine.

For something more sit-down, here’s a recommendation you won’t see coming: head to the Lotus’s shopping mall. Hidden inside the Tesco hypermarket is a surprisingly soulful food.

Edo Ramen, an authentic Japanese restaurant, combines rich broths, fresh noodles, and carefully considered toppings into ingredient-forward, comfort-inducing bowls.

Tonkotsu and shoyu ramen are reliably excellent, but, during festival season, give Hokkaido-style Miso Ramen a try. The vegetarian version arrives with silken tofu cubes, creamy avocado slices, aburaage, an umami-rich nori crumble, white sesame seeds, and a scatter of spring onion. Priced just 129 baht (3.5 euros or 4 dollars), the vegetarian ramen is an extraordinary value.

Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine During Phuket Vegetarian Festival – Conclusion

In a destination that can feel relentlessly touristic, Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine is refreshingly, genuinely local. The street it sits on, lined with schools, hair salons, flower shops, and food stalls, tells you immediately that you’ve stepped out of the tourist circuit and into the lived reality of Phuket Town.

Chinese spirit mediums wrapped in barbed wire expose the Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine’s mystery like a puzzle worth unlocking

The island has no shortage of beautiful temples, vibrant street festivals, and cultural landmarks. But Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine holds a quiet power that sets it apart from the more popular Phuket spots. It is a place where centuries of Chinese-Thai heritage are not displayed for tourists; they continue, undimmed, in the everyday rhythm of worship and community.

The shrine is a tangible thread connecting modern Phuket to the Hokkien Chinese immigrants whose labor and culture shaped the island’s character. It honors a healing deity who continues to draw worshippers seeking relief, comfort, and blessing.

It also anchors one of the world’s most extraordinary religious festivals – the Nine Emperor Gods Festival or, more famously, Phuket Vegetarian Festival. Chinese spirit mediums wrapped in barbed wire, or with steel mechanic’s wrenches and pruning shears protruding through their entranced faces, expose the Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine’s mystery like a puzzle worth unlocking.

Physically demanding in its rituals, but less commercial than its Old Town counterparts, the Sam Kong temple offers a window into a living spiritual tradition that has endured for over a century.

Come with curiosity. Move with respect. And this quiet neighborhood temple, transformed into a center of ritual intensity, will offer you something most Phuket travel itineraries never do: a glimpse of the island as it really is.

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Disclosure: My stay at the Shade House was complimentary, but all opinions are my own.

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The post Lim Hu Tai Su Shrine in Phuket: Faith Over Swords, Sabers, and Sledgehammers appeared first on Pipeaway.

Is Eurovision Song Contest Live Tour a clever celebration, or the latest fiasco of a project losing its compass?

Yes, the forgetful 70-year-old granny is going on the road, bringing together ten artists from Eurovision 2026 alongside selected “iconic acts” from the competition’s past. Nemo, the 2024 winner who famously returned their trophy in protest of Israel’s participation in Eurovision, will not be there. Neither will Conchita Wurst, Eurovision’s 2014 champion, who publicly withdrew from all Eurovision-related activities just days ago.

The special arena events with an unknown lineup will grace ten privileged locations in June and July: London (UK), Hamburg (Germany), Milan (Italy), Zürich (Switzerland), Antwerp (Belgium), Cologne (Germany), Copenhagen (Denmark), Amsterdam (Netherlands), Paris (France), and Stockholm (Sweden).

“For the very first time, we are bringing the magic of the Eurovision Song Contest live experience directly to fans and their friends and families all over Europe”, declared Martin Green, Eurovision’s Director, with a straight face. He did not clarify how “all over Europe” came to mean a comfortably compact triangle between London, Milan, and Stockholm.

This tour not only overlooks vast swaths of the continent – especially Central and Eastern Europe – but arrives precisely when multiple countries have stepped away from Eurovision itself, protesting the EBU’s political decisions.

Is Eurovision Song Contest Live Tour, pitched as a jubilant tribute to Eurovision’s seven decades, a clever celebration, or the latest fiasco of a project now literally losing its compass?

Why is Israel in Eurovision, you ask? Check it out.

Concentration (in) Camp

Eurovision affirmed its position as a hostage of Israel, convinced that wrapping the contest’s unprecedented wounds in a bandage made of sequins might somehow bring the patient’s fever down. With such a spectacular misdiagnosis, one that has already resulted in participation dropping to 35 countries (the lowest number since the introduction of the semi-finals in 2004), it feels almost surreal that the EBU would come up with a project that further tightens its circle, severing already loosened ties with what is left of Europe in its deserted trenches.

The Eurovision Song Contest Live Tour effectively concentrates all its sound systems into nine (mutually bordering) countries of the continent’s west.

Indeed, nine, because Germany appears twice, with both Hamburg and Cologne proudly qualifying as two of the EBU’s “10 major European cities”.

The two more A-listers, Antwerp and Amsterdam, are so major that even their mere 160-kilometer distance did nothing to exclude either. A Eurostar train passenger can travel between them in roughly 75 minutes, while the car’s most fuel-efficient route demands just over 100 minutes. Still, both Dutch and Belgian cities get their very own Eurovision night.

In comparison, a Eurofan from Lisbon would have to drive 18 hours to the nearest concert in Paris, one from Athens could easily make it to Milan in less than 23 hours, while an Azerbaijani concertgoer from Baku could truly prove their devotion by spending 50 hours behind the wheel to reach Zurich, a modest 4,200 kilometers away.

Instead of truly giving “those who can’t attend the shows in Vienna the chance to share the magic of Eurovision”, the ESC Live Tour designed in EBU’s headquarters serves only the comfort of the selected strip of Europe east of the UK and west of Italy.

Why does only one third of the room (coincidentally, the richest third) get to dance?

Not all of Eurovision's live concerts go according to plan. Learn how subliminal jihad messages invaded the performance of Baby Lasagna!

€-vision’s Iron Curtain

The EBU’s celebratory Live Tour sidesteps the contest’s most explosive controversies. Except for the Netherlands, the ISIS countries (Ireland, Spain, Iceland, and Slovenia), which have all boycotted the contest following the EBU’s decision to allow Israel to compete in Austria, don’t appear on the tour itinerary.

Spain (a former member of the Big Five) and Ireland (a country with a record-equalling seven victories) are both major Eurovision players, but seemingly too hot potatoes for the EBU to handle at the moment.

Should we read the Eurovision Live Tour as a way to compensate for the financial losses caused by the withdrawal of former key contributors?

All selected cities sit within high-GDP, advanced economies. In fact, the tour stops are located in nine of the top 15 richest European countries. They are a sharp cut of the continent’s economic core, not just big in absolute GDP figures, but also on a per-person basis.

In reality, these fans can afford to travel the farthest. Yet, they simply won’t have to, as fans from poorer, excluded regions are expected to hop on planes and absorb the extra costs.

Rings like the legendary “Let them eat cake”. And we know how Marie Antoinette ended.

Eurovision Song Contest Live Tour makes no stops in Central or Eastern Europe – even though nations like, for instance, Poland, Greece, and those from the territory of the former Yugoslavia (competing since 1961) have vibrant Eurovision followings and strong fan cultures. From the Baltics to the Balkans, Eurovision’s Iron Curtain descends. All the bets are on the West.

Why this pattern? One plausible interpretation is economic:

Arena sizes and ticket revenue: Western European cities like London (O2 Arena) or Paris (Accor Arena) offer massive venues where organizers can sell tens of thousands of tickets and premium hospitality packages.

Tourism infrastructure and disposable income: Western capitals benefit from constant tourism flows and more affluent concertgoers likely to buy tickets to multi-hundred-euro packages.

In other words: is this really a cultural tour celebrating Europe, or a profit-centered “€-Vision Live Experience” engineered to extract maximum revenue from the wealthiest markets? The absence of major Eurovision markets in Central and Eastern Europe raises this question sharply.

A Happy Narrative in a Polarized Moment

In its official announcement, the EBU frames the Eurovision Song Contest Live Tour as a joyful tribute to Eurovision’s “legacy, its global fan community, and seven decades of unforgettable music”.

A harmless celebration, at least on paper.

In reality, that messaging collides with two inconvenient truths.

a) Dancing Around Political Conflicts

The wave of boycotts is rooted in serious humanitarian and political concerns. Yet the Live Tour is being marketed as pure spectacle.

The staged narrative of “70 magical years of Eurovision” stands in stark contrast to the lived experience of many fans who feel the contest has lost its apolitical sheen and now represents Europe’s broader political fault lines.

Since 2024, the Israel controversy has overshadowed every edition of Eurovision, and the Live Tour is being positioned as conveniently insulated from that reality.

Rather than engaging with difficult debates about neutrality, broadcaster responsibility, and cultural ethics, the EBU redirects attention toward arenas, ticket sales, and feel-good branding.

Eurovision, repackaged as a rock-show-style touring product, becomes easier to sell – and easier to defend – than Eurovision as a contested cultural institution. In the context of the controversies rooted in ethical division, this megaphone moment could be perceived as a commercial diversion, designed to amplify nostalgia while muting uncomfortable questions.

b) Economic Priorities Over Inclusive Representation

By concentrating exclusively on Western Europe’s largest and wealthiest stadium markets, the Live Tour sidesteps major parts of the Eurovision world that are politically vocal, culturally engaged, and critically invested in the contest’s future direction, especially in Central and Eastern Europe and in boycotting nations.

If Eurovision’s mission were genuinely about unity, one might expect a tour that visits a symbolic cross-section of Europe – including cities such as Belgrade, Warsaw, Tallinn, Bucharest, or Sofia – not just affluent, Western capitals. Instead, the map stops where purchasing power drops.

The Eurovision Live Tour is a model that mirrors standard corporate entertainment logic: choose wealthy markets first, fill the biggest arenas, sell premium experiences, and leave the rest (including hard conversations) off the road.

Eurovision Song Contest Live Tour – Conclusion

In the wake of political boycotts, public broadcaster walkouts, and mounting demands for transparency, Eurovision’s Live Tour feels less like a unifying cultural odyssey and more like a commercial rollout designed to:

• Celebrate in markets least disrupted by controversy
• Capitalize on reliably lucrative audiences
• Generate revenue at a safe distance from the political costs borne by countries that chose conscience over competition

Making Stockholm its easternmost destination, Eurovision’s Live Tour doesn’t just show geographic ignorance, but institutional arrogance

The Eurovision Live Tour may indeed offer fans joyous evenings of spectacle and sing-alongs, and there’s value in that.

But as political polarization increasingly intrudes upon what is still marketed as a cultural event, it is hard not to see this tour as at least partly an institutional maneuver aimed at redirecting attention and energy away from deep tensions and toward familiar pop-cultural enjoyment.

In trying to steer the gaze away from Israel, the “United by Music” contest has managed to divide Europe once more, now with a clear, Irony Curtain line.

Because, when the Live Tour promises to “travel across Europe this summer”, and crowns Stockholm as its easternmost destination, the result is not the sign of merely geographic ignorance – but also institutional arrogance.

With so much money invested each year in ever more dazzling light shows, it is a striking and unforgivable flop that Eurovision’s Live Tour spotlight has left two-thirds of the continent in complete darkness.

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In the winter of 2025/2026, 120,000 people visited Gran Canaria’s sandy Bethlehem over 24 days

The sound of waves replaces carols and church bells, bikinis stand in for heavy coats, and the only impression you can leave on the ground by sweeping your arms and legs is a sand angel… This might not be your typical Christmas. Yet, Biblical figures rising along the Atlantic shore depict a well-known story, more than two thousand years old.

Following the footsteps of the Three Kings, 120,000 people would visit this sandy Bethlehem over 24 days, gathering to glimpse the infant Jesus and, inevitably, to collect a generous supply of Belén de Arena photos, tagged #belendearena.

Sand nativity scenes do exist elsewhere. To find another Belén de Arena, you’d have to travel to the Catalan resort of La Pineda (Vila-seca, Tarragona), or to Italy, where coastal towns like Rimini and Jesolo have nurtured their own sand-carved Christmas traditions.

In recent years, other Canarian municipalities have begun experimenting with sand-crafted nativity scenes, which, if continued, will make the Spanish archipelago off Africa’s northwestern coast the world center of this Christian art form. Arucas, a town without a beach, inaugurated its own sand nativity in 2020 inside the historic Casa Gourié, now home to the Arucas Municipal Museum. There, artist Óscar Rodríguez offered contemporary interpretations in which the Holy Family might coexist with The Beatles, or consult Google Maps while searching for the way out of a war zone. In 2023, Arrecife in Lanzarote joined the movement, unveiling its own Belén de Arena at Playa de El Reducto.

Still, Belén de Arena at Playa de las Canteras in Las Palmas remains unrivalled, in both scale and conviction. For a few weeks each year, the beach becomes an open-air art gallery, reminding visitors that even the most familiar stories can be retold in unfamiliar ways.

What does Belén in Spanish mean?

In Spanish, Belén means Bethlehem, the biblical birthplace of Jesus Christ. The word itself comes from the Hebrew Beit Lehem, literally translated as “house of bread”.

Over time, Belén also came to mean the nativity scene itself: the familiar Christmas display that recreates the manger, usually in miniature form.

In Spanish-speaking countries, asking someone if they have put up their Belén doesn’t mean inquiring about geography; it means checking whether Christmas has officially begun in their living room.

What does Belén represent at Christmas?

At its core, the Belén is a story of simplicity. The Holy Family appears not in a palace, but in a stable, surrounded by animals, shepherds, angels, and the Three Wise Men. It is a visual shorthand for humility, faith, and continuity – values passed down as carefully as the figurines themselves.

The tradition traces back to St. Francis of Assisi, who in 1223 staged the first live nativity scene in a grotto near Greccio, Italy. His goal was disarmingly practical: to help ordinary people see, feel, and understand the humble circumstances of Christ’s birth.

Eight centuries later, the idea still works, whether the figures are carved from wood, molded from clay, or sculpted from sand.

Where can you find a Belén in Spain?

Almost everywhere. In Spain, Belenes appear wherever there is space, patience, and a sense of tradition. They inhabit private homes and church corners, town halls and shop windows. Madrid installs one in its city hall. Mollina, in Málaga province, dedicates an entire museum to them (Museo de Belenes).

Some villages go bigger. Benijófar in Alicante is known for large-scale displays, while parts of Andalusia take the concept further with belenes vivientes – living nativity scenes complete with costumed performers, choreography, and markets.

Postojna Cave in Slovenia also hosts spectacular living nativity scenes. Check it out!

The most ambitious Spanish regions even create nativity routes (rutas de belenes), inviting visitors to wander from scene to scene, whether in major destinations like Valencia and Mallorca or smaller towns such as Gáldar.

In this national landscape of devotion and creativity, Belén de Arena stands out not by reinventing the tradition, but by relocating it – from shelves and courtyards to the open beach.

What is Belén de Arena?

Belén de Arena is exactly what the name promises – a nativity scene sculpted entirely from sand.

The most famous Belén de Arena is the one constructed on Playa de las Canteras in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. Each December, the beach becomes a temporary workshop where professional sand sculptors from as far away as Canada, Australia, and Ireland work alongside local Canarian talent. Armed with little more than sand, water, and patience, they carve monumental biblical scenes just meters from the Atlantic, shaping figures that seem improbably permanent despite their fragile material.

The scale is deliberately excessive. The exhibition is built from around 1,500 cubic meters of compressed sand, with individual sculptures consuming up to 60 tons each. Some motifs in this XL Belén de Arena can rise nearly three meters high.

The scenes themselves follow familiar ground – the Manger, the Three Wise Men, the Star of Bethlehem – but they rarely stop there. Elements of Gran Canaria’s landscapes and cultural identity are subtly woven into the compositions, anchoring the biblical narrative to the island rather than transplanting it unchanged.

Unlike traditional nativity displays confined to churches or living rooms, Belén de Arena is:

• temporary
• exposed to wind and weather
• rebuilt from scratch every year

Its beachside location is not merely practical, for the abundant sand supply. There is a symbolism here. In Las Palmas, the beach is not a backdrop to life, but a place where life happens. Belén de Arena is built on Canarian identity and its beach culture.

How Sand Nativity Scenes Are Made

Professional sand nativity artists rely on an almost comically modest toolkit as well as materials. There is no concrete, no glue, no hidden steel skeleton holding things together. Just sand, water, gravity.

The process begins with sand thoroughly mixed with large amounts of water until it reaches a dense, mud-like consistency. This mixture is packed into large, bottomless plywood molds, layer by layer, and compacted until it forms solid blocks. Once the molds are removed, sculptors carve from the top down, carefully releasing figures that were “already there”, waiting under pressure.

The tools are simple but varied:

• Shovels and trowels – for rough shaping.
• Palette knives and spatulas – for defining lines, shapes, and details.
• Loop tools – for removing sand during sculpting.
• Brushes, brooms, and rakes – for smoothing surfaces.
• A plastic straw – for blowing away loose grains of sand from delicate areas.

Unlike small-scale hobbyist sand art, no glues or internal fixatives are used in large public displays like Belén de Arena. Stability depends entirely on proper sand processing and compression, as well as constant misting to prevent sculptures from drying out.

If you want to create sand art yourself, start with something simple, such as this sand nativity scene kit. Sprinkle colored sand into predefined spaces, and create your own miniature Belén at home.

Belén de Arena History – From Three Figures to a Quarter Million Visitors

The first Belén de Arena in the Canary Islands was installed on Playa de las Canteras in 1987. With financial support from the City Council of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, sand artist Etual Ojeda created a simple nativity scene depicting Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus.

However, the real Belén de Arena inauguration, in the form we know today, happened at Las Canteras in 2006. Under the artistic direction of founder Miguel Rodríguez, the project included eight artists and eight large-scale sculptures, enough to attract 180,000 visitors.

Except for 2011, when 40 thousand people visited Belén de Arena, the attendance fluctuated between 100 and 200 thousand each season. The 2024 edition set a new benchmark, attracting 259,305 visitors, the highest figure in its history.

As the crowds grew, so did the ambition. What began as a local initiative evolved into an international artistic collaboration, welcoming sand sculptors from around the world while remaining firmly rooted in Las Palmas.

Each edition brought new compositions, refined techniques, and fresh narrative interpretations. Figures changed, scenes expanded, and craftsmanship deepened. Yet, one principle never shifted: everything is made of sand, and everything will eventually return to it.

From the beginning, Belén de Arena also insisted on being more than an art installation. Entry has always been free, but visitors are encouraged to donate, with proceeds traditionally directed toward local soup kitchens and social organizations supporting the homeless.

The 20^th edition of Belén de Arena (2025/2026) raised 15,000 euros for humanitarian needs, while in 2015, a record €28,032 was collected. Over two decades, 288 thousand euros have been redirected to social causes, showing that this tourist attraction is also a community project, with a purpose that goes beyond spectacle.

Visiting Belén de Arena at Playa de las Canteras: Schedule and Tickets

Location and Setting

Belén de Arena is located directly on Playa de las Canteras, at the northern end of the beach (La Puntilla). Reaching it requires no more effort than a leisurely walk along the promenade.

The exhibition exists in the very space where people sunbathe, swim, jog, and walk their dogs for the rest of the year.

That openness is a defining feature of the experience. Las Palmas sand sculptures share the surroundings with passing runners, curious children, and the steady soundtrack of the sea, keeping the visit informal and unceremonious.

Opening Dates, Times, and Entry

Belén de Arena typically opens in mid-December and remains accessible until early January (just after Three Kings’ Day), covering the entire Christmas and New Year period.

Standard opening hours are 10 am to 10 pm, with earlier closures at 8 pm on Christmas Eve (24 December), New Year’s Eve (31 December), and the eve of Epiphany (5 January).

Practicalities are refreshingly simple:

• Entry: Free admission, no booking required
• Donations: Voluntary but highly encouraged (Belén de Arena is a solidarity event)
• Access: Open-air and fully accessible, including for visitors with reduced mobility

At the entrance, staff will politely ask where you are from – a question asked for statistical purposes rather than existential reflection – and then step aside, leaving you free to wander among the sculptures at your own pace.

Best Time to Visit

Belén de Arena subtly shifts personality over the course of the day:

• Daytime highlights the craftsmanship, textures, and proportions of the sculptures.
• After sunset, subtle lighting turns the exhibition almost theatrical, with shadows adding depth and drama. Powered by solar panels, the illumination is entirely sustainable – proof that even Christmas atmospheres can run on sunlight.

Evenings tend to be busier, but they also deliver the most memorable impressions.

Visitors seeking fewer crowds may prefer weekdays, while those who enjoy slow, unhurried exploration can even opt for a virtual visit, available for the current and some past editions – a rare opportunity to revisit a work of art designed to disappear.

Best Places to Stay at Playa de las Canteras

Playa de las Canteras offers no shortage of beachfront accommodation, many of them just steps away from Belén de Arena and the everyday pleasures of the promenade. Whether you prefer spa indulgence, surf culture, or silence, there is a bed here with your name on it.

If a four-star stay with extras sounds appealing, Bull Reina Isabel & SPA is hard to beat. The hotel features a rooftop pool, free spa access, a gym, and even complimentary beach loungers and parasols. Breakfast is unapologetically generous; expect everything from fresh orange juice to cava, and yes, even vodka. Rates are available via Booking, Agoda, Trip, and Expedia.

Another four-star beachfront option is Sercotel Playa Canteras, located in the very heart of the promenade. Its understated décor and ocean views make it especially popular with couples looking for comfort without excess. Available on Booking, Trip, and Expedia.

Just a few steps from the sand nativity scene, the three-star Hotel Aloe Canteras scores high for location and comfort. Bright, modern rooms face the Atlantic, and the surrounding neighborhood is packed with restaurants. For late-night cravings, the hotel’s vending machines stand ready around the clock. Compare prices on Booking, Agoda, Trip, or Expedia.

Travelers who prefer a bit more independence may enjoy Chez Abel, an apartment-style stay with a kitchenette and outdoor dining area – ideal for slow breakfasts or improvised dinners after a beach walk. Apartments can be reserved via Booking, Agoda, or Trip.

If your idea of a holiday includes doing everything possible to avoid squeaky voices, Wavia Hotel offers an adults-only alternative. Located just north of Playa de las Canteras, it’s a favorite for two-person trips and quiet mornings. Find it on Booking, Trip, or Expedia.

Surfers should aim south, where the waves are more cooperative. Agüita Surf Lodge sits near the best surf conditions on the beach and includes a solarium – useful if the Canarian sun somehow fails to satisfy. Bookable through Booking or Agoda.

And when beachfront access only truly matters if it comes with company, La Ventana Azul Surf Hostel delivers the social side of Las Canteras. Dormitories, a game room, and activities ranging from yoga and windsurfing to fishing trips and film nights make it a lively base. Reservations are available via Booking, Agoda, Trip, Expedia, or Hostelworld.

Belén de Arena in Gran Canaria – Art Made to Disappear

Christmas in Gran Canaria follows its own rules. There is no frost on the ground, no visible breath in the air, and no collective rush indoors to escape the cold.

While much of mainland Europe shivers, visitors to Belén de Arena arrive in short sleeves, some even in swimsuits. They can admire world-class sculpture, and then wander a few meters farther to take a dip in the Atlantic Ocean.

Belén de Arena turns the Christmas story into a literal lesson in presence. What stands before us will not be there forever

With around 5,000 visitors a day, the exhibition quietly proves that democratization of access to art still matters. In December, Belén de Arena at Playa de las Canteras becomes Spain’s third most visited “museum”, surpassed only by Madrid’s Prado and Reina Sofía.

Created in barely ten days and dismantled in a matter of hours, the sculptures of Belén de Arena were never meant to endure. Vulnerable like street art, they are designed to exist for a moment and to be erased in the next one. It is art that shines like the brightest comet in the sky, and then burns as soon as it enters our atmosphere, accepting its disappearance.

Artists know that sand is an unforgiving material. Wind softens sculptures’ edges, humidity reshapes surfaces, and rain can undo hours of work in minutes.

Belén de Arena turns the Christmas story into a literal lesson in presence. What stands before us will not be there forever.

Even if, by miracle, a sculpture survives the season intact, it is ultimately leveled, its sand returned to beach towels, flip-flops, and children’s castles.

Until the next year, when new artworks will rise, formed from the same grains.

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If Gran Canaria is a “continent in miniature”, Gáldar is the island’s North Pole

Every December, this municipality in the northwest of Gran Canaria gives its own answer to the European tradition of Christmas markets. You might have to swap mulled wine with chilled cerveza, and New Year’s fireworks with the Swimsilvestre de Gáldar, a traditional open-water swim race that feels less Bethlehem and more Baywatch. Yet almost everything else you expect from a “Christmas City” is there. Illuminated trees, wooden huts, festive soundtracks… You’ll even find an ice-skating rink, for that complete fairytale aesthetic.

Once you accept the idea of landscape-diverse Gran Canaria as a “continent in miniature”, it’s not much of a leap to imagine Gáldar as the island’s North Pole. Perhaps the ten kilometers of LED lights that make its streets glow are there to serve as a landing strip for Santa Claus and his reindeer airlines as they navigate the globe.

For those leaning more toward Christianity (the religion that baptized the aboriginal Canarians here after the arrival of Spanish conquistadors in the late 15th century), Gáldar also provides Nativity scenes, numerous enough to sustain a sacral pilgrimage.

Whether you’re looking for something relaxed and playful or something serious and reverent, Gáldar presents itself as a Christmas destination.

You haven’t made a mistake by flying south in winter. In the lights, flowers, and decorations of Ciudad Navidad, the Christmas City of Gáldar, you can still find a true holiday spirit.

If you're intrigued by bone-chilling electricity bills, check out how much costs Kek Lok Si Temple at night!  

Key areas to experience Gáldar’s Christmas Decorations

If you’re arriving in Gáldar by car, I suggest leaving it at the Aparcamiento La Quinta. From this parking lot, Ciudad Navidad unfolds best on foot.

Cross the roundabout and follow Calle Guaires, a street named after the indigenous Canarian leaders from the pre‑Hispanic kingdom of Agáldar. The daily life of these warrior-captains is represented in sculptures lining the road.

Guaires Cultural Center, at the beginning of the street, is an indoor stage for many performances during the Ciudad Navidad, its program stretching from comedy hypnosis to ballet galas.

Continue walking eastward until you reach Calle Gumidafe, turn left, then right into Calle Fernando Guanarteme. This is where the Christmas narrative takes over.

Mercado Navideño

Running along the southern side of the Church of Saint James the Apostle (the Temple Sanctuary of Santiago de los Caballeros), Calle Fernando Guanarteme hosts Gáldar’s compact but charming Christmas market – Mercado navideño.

Here, wooden cabins offer local brands, souvenirs, and festive decorations you can purchase, and bring a piece of Gáldar spirit home. Expect handmade ceramics, jewelry, clothing, and an assortment of edible crafts – sweets included, and craft beer very much not excluded.

Plaza de Santiago

As the heart of the town, Plaza de Santiago becomes the symbolic center of Gáldar Navidad. Throughout December, the park hosts free concerts, performances, and a steady rotation of Christmas activities.

It is from here that children’s parades, music-led pasacalles, and church processions start, with numerous live music and theater acts appearing regularly, peaking around Christmas Eve – Noche en Blanco (the White Night).

On the eastern side of the Plaza de Santiago, in front of the Archivo parroquial de Gáldar, stands a rather classic Nativity scene – the Holy Family in hay (well, as much as oversized sheep and goats, and even more oversized mushrooms fit the category of “classic”).

The southern facade of the square, formed by the Old Town Hall (Casas Consistoriales del Ayuntamiento de Gáldar), delivers two surprises. The interior of this 18th-century neoclassical palace features a larger and more elaborate Nativity scene. The exterior, however, reveals a surreal, colorful version of the Middle East, featuring bright-colored hot-air balloons, a small army of nutcrackers, and even golden giraffes adorned with Christmas baubles and white chandeliers.

Plaza de Santiago is also where the largest crowds gather for the encendido – the official lighting switch-on. With audiovisual projections and architectural lighting, the illumination ceremony marks the moment Gáldar formally completes its seasonal metamorphosis: from town into a City of Christmas.

For lights of a real theme park, visit Herbstmesse Basel, one of the oldest European fairs!

Calle Capitán Quesada

If Plaza de Santiago is the heart of Gáldar Navidad, then Calle Capitán Quesada (the popular Calle Larga) is the town’s main Christmas artery, pumping light, color, and content at a pace designed for smartphones. During the holiday season, this pedestrian street becomes one of the most Instagrammable corners of Gran Canaria.

Its defining attraction is the series of iconic floral allegories of the Semana de las Flores (in its 27th edition, Flower Week is effectively a Flower Month, lasting from December 11 to January 4).

Each year, the Christmas-themed artistic exhibition also has a subtopic. In 2025, the open-air botanical museum with giant structures built from poinsettias (Christmas Star), cyclamens, and other festive plants portrays the Arabian Nights. From moss-textured camels and lions to smiling, oversized Christmas cookies, from a festive train to Santa’s air-lifted sleigh, every flower display and installation in Calle Capitán Quesada offers a new photo opportunity.

At night, the street transforms into a fully illuminated corridor, as hundreds of Christmas motifs shine beneath the ten kilometers of dazzling LED displays, a scale two and a half times larger than the previous year. This constant magnification has not gone unnoticed. Local environmental advocates, such as Altahay, have criticized Gáldar’s holiday illuminations for being excessively intense, intrusive, and even harmful to urban flora and fauna, including the protected, centenary dragon trees.

In keeping with the Spanish tradition of writing letters to the Reyes Magos (here, the Three Wise Men grant wishes instead of Santa Claus), the city has installed a special structure in front of Gáldar’s historic market, Mercado Municipal La Recova. Elevated on its own altar and sheltered beneath a palio (canopy) inspired by Santiago Apóstol, Saint James, the Buzón Real is a three-meter-tall ceremonial mailbox where children can drop off their wish lists during Gáldar’s Christmas season.

Not all countries celebrate holidays in the same way. Learn how New Year celebrations differ from each other!

Ruta de Belenes

The Ruta de Belenes in Gáldar is a municipal Christmas route that guides residents and visitors through a network of Nativity scenes (belenes) scattered across the town.

This festive exhibition of Christmas art and tradition encourages individuals, families, associations, and institutions to present their own take on the Nativity.

Beyond the already mentioned Nativity scenes at Plaza de Santiago – the municipal centerpiece inside the Casas Consistoriales, created by José Luis Tacoronte García, and the almost-life-sized Belén before Casa Parroquial, by Antonio Garcia Ramoz, the route includes twelve additional stops. Both traditional and modern interpretations of Christ’s birth appear in cultural centers, museums, churches, and both private and community spaces.

Check out the Municipal Nativity scene come to life, animated with artificial intelligence!

“Nacimiento” at Museo Agáldar (City History Museum), for instance, is an artisanal Nativity scene handcrafted in clay by local ceramist Arístides Martín Barrasa, while Ciona Almeida León incorporated ashes from La Palma volcano in her creation.

At the Casino de Gáldar, Antonio Mateos Armas presents his “Nacimiento de Piedras Pintadas“ composed of carefully painted beach stones.

From flores to luces – planning your visit to Gáldar Fiestas Navidad

If you’re traveling to see the Gáldar Navidad decorations, a little planning goes a long way. The town may feel compact, but December turns it into a carefully scheduled organism. Here are a few practical tips to help you navigate the festivities:

1. Time your visit around the events you actually care about

Gáldar’s Christmas season features more than 80 activities, with programs changing daily. Concerts, parades, performances, ceremonies… Before you go, check the town’s official website for the full Gáldar Navidad program schedule. Otherwise, you may arrive just in time for the wrong thing.

2. The best time to visit is just before sunset

The ideal moment to experience Gáldar Navidad is during the daily transition from afternoon to evening. To catch the shift from the vibrant colors of the Flower Week installations to the fully glowing night displays (from flores to luces), aim to be in town by 6 pm at the latest.

3. Arrive early to find the parking spot

During the holidays, Gáldar enables over 1,750 parking spaces across areas such as La Quinta, Las Guayarminas, and San Sebastián. But with hundreds of visitors attending popular events, parking can fill up quickly. Arriving before 5 pm significantly improves your chances. Once parked, the historic center is entirely walkable – explore it on foot!

4. Gáldar Navidad is family-friendly

Gáldar Navidad makes a point of catering to younger visitors. For maximum effect, plan your visit around pasacalles walkabouts with marching bands and costumed characters, children’s shows in Plaza de los Faycanes, or at least lead your kiddos to the Royal Mailbox in Calle Capitán Quesada, where letters to the Reyes Magos are received with appropriate seriousness.

5. Dress in layers – it’s winter after all

Despite the mild climate, evenings in Gáldar can feel surprisingly chilly. You’ll spend most of your time outdoors, so comfortable shoes are essential. Add a light jacket and, if you’re sensitive to Atlantic breezes, a scarf.

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Where to stay in Gáldar

If your idea of a perfect Christmas visit involves being within walking distance of the action, Gáldar offers a couple of well-placed options – depending on whether you prefer boutique convenience or group-sized comfort.

For maximum proximity, Hotel Emblemático Agáldar sits right next to the Plaza de Santiago, placing you just steps away from concerts, parades, and the nightly glow of Ciudad Navidad. Rooms with balconies overlook the town, while the rooftop swimming pool and sun terrace offer a quieter vantage point above the festivities. The hotel’s restaurant is notably inclusive, catering to vegetarian, gluten-free, and dairy-free diets – a small but welcome detail during a season of excess. Availability and rates can be checked on platforms such as Booking, Agoda, or Trip.

If you’re traveling as a group – up to twelve adults – a very different experience awaits at The Yellow House, located next to the Museo Agáldar. Renting the entire property gives you six bedrooms, three bathrooms, a spacious living area, a solarium, and a heated pool. Free parking is included, making it a practical choice for longer stays or shared trips. Photos and pricing for this luxurious villa are available via Booking, Agoda, or Expedia.

Gáldar, Ciudad de la Navidad – Conclusion

Gáldar during Navidad offers more than just winter sun. From open-air poetry recitals to free museum visits, the hyperactive December in the colorful town at the foot of an inactive volcano resembles a statement. Gáldar has chosen to be known not just as Gran Canaria’s largest banana producer. It has chosen Christmas as its identity.

With 400 decorative motifs spread across the historic center and surrounding neighborhoods, and enough lights to turn Noche de Navidad into Luce de Navidad, this is far more than a modest community display. The scale of ornamentation and lighting points to a large holiday spectacle, one designed to attract and impress crowds.

For some, these themed sets that blend Christmas-ish symbolism with lush red-and-green floral artistry may feel like over-decoration and excess. They might expose how consumption overtakes culture, and how spectacle suffocates craftsmanship.

The town pauses being itself and becomes a stage, just a scenography for a Christmas park

As streets glow and installations multiply, the storytelling is not a quiet one. Even locals express concerns about the over-commercialization of the event, whose dense and visually saturated street decorations border a full-fledged theme-park experience.

Once competition gates are open, the challenge may get out of control. Bigger! Brighter! More! Streets as corridors of stimulation, extended lighting hours, rising energy consumption, and installations that press against urban ecosystems, affecting trees, birds, and the nocturnal rhythm of the town. The environmental concern is real.

But there is an urban cost as well. When public space becomes seasonal infrastructure, its everyday identity risks erosion. The town pauses being itself and becomes a stage, just a scenography for a Christmas park.

Gáldar Navidad street decorations undeniably succeed in attracting attention, visitors, and social media momentum. Yet in doing so, they risk turning the town into a simulation of Christmas rather than a lived one.

The question then is not whether Gáldar shines – it clearly does. The question is whether, beneath the glow of the winter wonderland, the overshadowed town still recognizes itself.

What do you think about Gáldar, Ciudad Navidad?
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The never-weaker EBU confirmed Israel’s Eurovision 2026 participation, so they’d like us all to focus on the music again, that magical art form that dissolves borders, unites “good and brutal”, singers and sinners, musicians and munitions, violins and violence… All within a non-political spectacle of performed neutrality.

Now that the “troublemakers” are out (Spain, Ireland, Slovenia, Iceland, and the Netherlands, the moral Big 5 of the contest, have left the Israel-infested institution), even some fans are asking for Eurovision to return to “its core” – music. Which, you know, exists in a vacuum.

The problem with Israel’s participation is not just artwashing, but also the insistence that singing and dancing in a graveyard is acceptable

“Music-first” activists fail to understand the point of cultural boycotts because they see them as actions attacking artists, not governments (which instrumentalize those same artists to manufacture normality and launder genocide-affected reputations).

To explain how the camouflage works, journalist Emre Barca (Daily Sabah) recalls Hannah Arendt’s concept of the “banality of evil”, where even monsters like Adolf Eichmann could enjoy a family picnic.

Comfortably nibbling biscuits on Eurovision’s picnic blanket, Giannis Argyriou (Eurovisionfun) sees hope for a “truly apolitical Eurovision” because none of the potential Israel Eurovision entrants are connected to October 7, and broadcaster KAN might send a “joyful and carefree song” this time (sic!).

The problem with Israel’s participation is not just artwashing, but also the insistence that singing and dancing in a graveyard (including a graveyard of innocents) is acceptable.

If Israeli society, under its current circumstances, insists on a song contest (!) as a project of utmost importance, that is not evidence of its normality, but a symptom of an untreated disease.

A society whose content creators mock Palestinian suffering, and whose bands project Gaza bombings as concert backdrops, is unhealthy, desensitized, detached from reality, and over the edge of moral bankruptcy.

Need proof? To assist broadcaster KAN in the search for the next Rising Star, we dove into Israel’s vast pool of musical talent that already produced “joyful and carefree songs” on social media over the years.

Here are possible Israel Eurovision entries for 2026!

EBU has a new scandal - the Eurovision Song Contest Live Tour completely "forgot" Central and Eastern Europe!

Israel Eurovision Candidates for 2026

1. Junior Genocide – Kids Crossing the Line

Israel’s public broadcaster KAN has not participated in Junior Eurovision since 2018. They stated that, instead of pouring money into an expensive, limited-broadcast JESC, they’d rather invest in local shows for children that could be enjoyed year-round.

On November 19, 2023, one such “local show” shocked everyone. The broadcaster that “never broke any of EBU rules” published a war song performed by young children dressed in black. They sang about annihilation. Not metaphorical but deadline-based annihilation. Within a year.

Based on an Israeli poem about the 1948 Arab-Israeli war, the song titled “The Friendship Song” (?!) exploited children singing against the footage of Gaza reduced to rubble.

“Autumn night falls over the beach of Gaza
Planes are bombing, destruction, destruction
Look, the IDF is crossing the line
To annihilate the swastika-bearers.

In another year, there will be nothing there
And we will safely return to our homes
Within a year, we will eliminate them all
And then we will return to plow our fields.”

Ofer Rosenbaum, the creative force behind the controversial video and founder of The Civil Front, an organization dedicated to restoring domestic support for the Israeli army, assumed the public would love to hear children’s voices glorifying genocide, in harmony.

After the backlash against the song that exposed how nationalism is taught, rehearsed, and aestheticized, KAN quietly removed the video.

2. Sing-Along Airstrikes

Why should only children have all the fun when bombing another country can entertain an entire family?

The parody song “Bomb Iran” (best known through Vince Vance & the Valiants’s 1980 version) enjoyed an unexpected revival on the terrace of an Israeli family shortly after the outbreak of the so-called Twelve-Day War in June 2025.

Israel bombed Iran’s nuclear facilities, assassinated military leaders and scientists, and killed civilians. Naturally, this inspired a family sing-along.

Armed with a bass, a guitar, and a tambourine, the family gathered outdoors and, united by music, delivered their message to the world. The resulting video went viral, accumulating more views in a matter of days than Vince Vance’s version managed over decades.

The lyrics were performed with enthusiasm and the confidence of people convinced they were on the right side of history, and possibly of God:

“We bombed Iran
We bombed Tehran
We blocked their plan
‘Cause when you’re messing with the Jews
You’re always gonna lose
It’s God’s plan, and God rules the land
Bomb bomb bomb bomb bomb Iran.”

This was not state television. No broadcaster needed to approve it. Just a family, and a catchy tune – proof that when culture fully internalizes war, the state no longer needs to sing at all.

3. Till Death Do Us Party

In December 2015, a video surfaced from a wedding in Jerusalem where far-right extremists celebrated the killing of Ali Dawabsheh, an 18-month-old Palestinian baby burned alive months earlier in a settler arson attack.

A disturbing “festive” video showed wedding guests dancing with guns and knives, a masked youth raising a firebomb, a guest repeatedly stabbing a photograph of the murdered toddler, and others parading assault rifles and what appeared to be a Molotov cocktail.

the baby who was burned alive is now part of depraved Israeli marriage rituals, where they take photos of him and stab it as a symbol for all Palestinian babies they want to burn and kill. Ben Gvir, now a top member of Netanyahu’s government, has joined in this genocidal ritual: pic.twitter.com/8QbmbkNw7o

— ☀️👀 (@zei_squirrel) November 20, 2023

The soundtrack combined parts of a Psalm text with rock theatrics:

“The infidels roar, roaring for prey and asking God to eat.
Next in line, we are hungry. Waiting, waiting for more, Lord of the world.
Vengeance will avenge one of my two eyes.
Revenge one of my two eyes from Palestinians”

Even Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu found the video “shocking” (that says a lot), and warned that it revealed “the true face of a group that constitutes a danger” to society.

Of course, this was all a decade before Netanyahu’s policies burned, stabbed, bombed, and murdered over 20,000 innocent children in Gaza, exposing his own “true face”.

At least seven settlers involved in what became known as the “blood wedding” were eventually convicted, which may complicate their availability for international cultural exchange.

Fortunately, a wildly popular religious-pop singer Hanan Ben Ari, who has publicly chanted the same two-eyes-from-Palestine revenge alongside IDF soldiers, might be ready to take the microphone in Vienna.

“Avenge but one of my two eyes from Palestine.
Curse their name!
That I may be this once avenged of Palestine for my two eyes.
Remember me, I pray Thee, and strengthen me
I pray Thee, only this once, O God,
Remember Me, Remember me.”

4. Torturing hostages with a children’s song

People get the message best if we employ repetition. Israelis who paid for 25 million Yuval Raphael’s ads in just two weeks (to win Eurovision, which itself reached half that number in YouTube views) know this principle the best. You cannot overdo repetition.

The children’s song “Meni Meni Meni Mamtera”, performed by entertainer Meni Tzukerl, received such a level of popularity in Israel that it was used to torture kidnapped Palestinians in the occupied West Bank. They would play the track on loop to blindfolded detainees for up to eight hours, to disorient them, prevent communication, and extract information. A nursery tune as an interrogation tool.

Meni Mamtera, who previously made headlines for chanting the anti-Arab slogan “May your village burn” at a wedding, would have to shorten his song to fit Eurovision’s three-minute standard, but surely he could create something as torturous as his most popular hit. While Eurovision’s strict rules allow only six handcuffed hostages dancing on stage, the official music video would face no such limitations.

‘Kidnap Palestinians and expose them to the tune’ became a real TikTok challenge, embraced even by a well-known politician/journalist Yinon Magal. Mockery turned participatory. News channel N12 dubbed the humiliating trend “Israel’s secret weapon”, while VINnews framed it as a “humorous story”, saying that “brokenhearted Israelis sought something to laugh about in the wake of the attacks”.

5. Burning villages and calories simultaneously

If Israel were looking to represent itself at Eurovision with a truly multifunctional entry – one that works equally well at weddings, nightclubs, protests, and gyms – “May Your Village Burn” would be an inspired choice.

This genocidal hate chant gained notoriety through supporters of the football club Beitar Jerusalem, particularly the La Familia fan group, known for extreme nationalist rhetoric. The phrase later migrated into far-right marches and anti-Arab protests. It was picked up by fringe political groups and then amplified online during conflicts.

The version that appeared as a clip in front of fitness influencer Hen Ben Moha’s 189k followers featured an elaborate choreography, which is a crucial ingredient of any Eurovision performance worth remembering.

Israeli women working out and singing along to a genocidal song, “May Your Village Burn.”

Till this day, most Western states have yet to ask the obvious question: How is everyone else supposed to live in peace next to a society exhibiting this level of genocidal malady? pic.twitter.com/ak6VmKKg2u

— Trita Parsi (@tparsi) October 16, 2025

The social media personality, known for motivational posts, published a short workout video showing women exercising in a gym while chanting a well-known, hostile, and inflammatory slogan. Nationalism repackaged as lifestyle content, genocide woven into a wellness routine.

The video went instantly viral, proving that burning villages pairs perfectly with burning calories.

6. Rape is the new Rap

In a country where the sacredness of raping Palestinians has been defended by protests, applause to rapists, and parliamentary sympathy,  it would be a missed cultural opportunity not to dedicate a “joyful and carefree” Eurovision song to this particular local tradition, for now not yet added to UNESCO’s List of Intangible Cultural Heritage.

Conveniently, the song already exists. Often described as an unofficial anthem of the Israeli club Maccabi Tel Aviv, “The Rape Song” delivers explicit calls to sexual violence and dehumanization:

“Your females are Arab wh*res (…)
We will f*ck you all
And drink your blood (…)
We will r*pe your daughters.”

If rape can be defended as a national sport in public discourse, it is very logical that some sports fan clubs will step in to cheer on the patriotic act.

Today in Stuttgart 🇩🇪. Extremist supporters of the Israeli 🇮🇱 club Maccabi Tel Aviv who have traveled to the city sing openly in German streets:

“You are Arab-wh*res (…)
We will f*ck you
and drink your blood (…)
We will r*pe your girls.”

German police did not intervene. pic.twitter.com/xBhhVX1bmF

— Tarek Baé (@Tarek_Bae) December 11, 2025

Birmingham police might have kicked out Maccabi Tel Aviv fans from the Europa League match against Aston Villa in November 2025, but already in December, the same supporters managed to perform their lovely song in Stuttgart. In the absence of real ones, the effective staging was enhanced with smoke bombs. German police declined to intervene because it wouldn’t be nice if someone called them anti-Semitic.

During the same Stuttgart visit, Maccabi Tel Aviv fans showed the width of their musical repertoire, and lauded IDF, again as Israel D*ck Forces:

“Ole ole, ole ole ole
Let the IDF win & f**k the Arabs
Ole ole, ole ole ole
Why is school out in Gaza?
There are no children left there!”

According to an image published in Israeli media,

Maccabi Tel Aviv ‘fans’ singing:

Ole ole, ole ole ole
Let the IDF win & f**k the Arabs
Ole ole, ole ole ole
Why is school out in Gaza?
There are no children left there! pic.twitter.com/mMmcT857lU

— Iran Military Media (@IRMilitaryMedia) October 18, 2025

7. Occupiers against Amalek

Israeli soldiers, it turns out, require no backing vocals from football fans or wedding guests. They are perfectly capable of singing for themselves.

In a video circulated in December 2023, members of the IDF gathered up in a giant boy band rehearsal. They jumped, clapped, and sang in unison, praising a Torah commandment that calls for the eradication of Amalek, the mythical, evil enemy of Israel. There are no innocents in Gaza, they sing. At least, innocent Palestinians are nowhere mentioned in the Hebrew Bible.

A video posted on X, formerly Twitter, by Israeli journalist Yinon Magal, shows Israeli soldiers singing and chanting for the occupation of Gaza and to “wipe off the seed of Amalek”, saying there are no “innocent civilians” in Gaza pic.twitter.com/cGGN0DfurU

— Middle East Eye (@MiddleEastEye) December 8, 2023

“I’m coming to occupy Gaza
And beat Hezbollah
I stick by one mitzvah,
To wipe off the seed of Amalek.
(…)
I left home behind me
Won’t come back until victory
We know our slogan,
There are no ‘uninvolved civilians’.”

There is no need here for irony or satire. The song simply states that there are no civilians – only targets.

8. Ode to divine protection

In the same period (December 2023), while October 7 survivor Yuval Raphael was still mapping out her Eurovision route, fearless voices were already singing in the occupied West Bank, with a captive audience that didn’t apply for tickets.

Israeli soldier Shimon Frenkel uploaded a TikTok video featuring a duet with a fellow soldier. The setting was a moving vehicle. Blindfolded and handcuffed Palestinian detainees were transported in the back seats like stage props that had wandered into the frame.

 

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A post shared by Middle East Monitor (@middleeastmonitor)

There was no shame in displaying their prey, real people, as scenography. After all, Palestinian faces need to be properly covered to double as décor. But no fear of judgment here, as God is on the side of “chosen people”, no matter how they treat Amalek.

“We have the king of the world.
He protects us from everyone”

The line absolves in advance and blesses retroactively. It reassures the singers that whatever happens in the back seat – humiliation, fear, disappearance – has already been approved at the highest possible level.

9. Making kebab from Muslims

People can indeed get united by music, but if the music is about food, you can count that bloodthirsty songs will open the appetite of many.

In a TikTok video from November 2023, the mere idea of treating enemies as meat worth skewering and grilling, like kebab, caused euphoria that Loreen could only dream of.

@ahmed.shaqer #غزة ♬ original sound – S H A Q E R

Enjoy the lyrics of the world’s most moral army:

“We have explosive bombs, and you have mermaids.
Where is your Prophet Muhammad?
Your prophet will not help you now. (…)
Explosions every week
We made kebab from you
Don’t play with Israel.
Hide, animals!”

This was no coded language. It was a song about killing Muslims, framed as barbecue. Violence served hot.

Enemies are animals, animals are meat, and meat exists to be consumed.

Eurovision rules, regrettably, forbid the use of live animals on stage, so any Palestinian-sourced human decor would need to be neutralized beforehand.

10. Mosquitos in a mosque

When not spit-roasted for Israeli shawarma, Muslims in Israel and the occupied territories have to endure other regular roasts by their neighbors.

From Sukkot to Hanukkah, some Israelis enjoy celebrating Jewish holidays with a direct provocation. And if we know anything about the success at Eurovision, it is that provocative acts tend to rank well.

In a blatant show of disrespect for the sanctity of the #Muslim holy site, Israeli settlers singing and dancing provocatively during their celebration of #Jewish holiday of Sukkot in Al Aqsa Mosque, Occupied Jerusalem pic.twitter.com/AwWE4GDGWe

— Siraj Noorani (@sirajnoorani) October 8, 2025

As extensively documented on social media, hundreds of Israeli settlers have been known to storm the courtyard of the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem and perform uninvited singing and dancing rituals.

These actions are escorted by the Israeli occupation forces, which simultaneously expel Palestinian worshippers from one of Islam’s holiest sites.

Even Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu, one of the internationally most wanted Israeli voices, participated in these intrusive celebrations, which can only mean we should all hear more about this music project in the future.

11. Who is going to live in a prison? Moshiko!

Obviously, Israel has many still anonymous musical talents. But perhaps Eurovision 2026 calls for some already established name.

Moshiko Mor, a Mizrahi (Middle Eastern Jewish) pop singer with 200k YouTube subscribers, could certainly be Israel’s new Eurovision contestant.

In one of his “audition tapes”, Mor leads the audience in a call-and-response exercise.

“Who doesn’t have water, food & electricity?”

“Gaza!”, the crowd shouts.

“Who is going to live in tents?”, Moshe Mor continues.

“Gaza!”, the audience answers again.

The values
Israeli singer Moshiko Mor singing: “Who doesn’t have water, food & electricity? “Gaza!” Who is going to live in tents? “Gaza!” pic.twitter.com/FpR7kDt1C4

— Abier (@abierkhatib) November 17, 2025

Besides proving how well-informed Israeli audiences are (all answers correct!), this footage exposes how skilled Israeli musicians can be when it comes to crowd management.

Okay, there is this minor detail that Moshiko has been indicted for rape and aggravated sodomy earlier this year. But surely there are numerous Maccabi fans (see no. 6) who would vote for the guy whose lawyers described him as a “family man”, which naturally means he could never assault a “divorced woman”.

12. Lifting spirits with warmongering

Another Israeli singer influenced by Mizrahi sound, and a plausible Israel’s Eurovision representative in 2026, is Narkis Reuven‑Nagar, simply known as Narkis.

She is of Yemeni and Persian Jewish ancestry, and as much as it would be interesting to hear her cover of “Bomb Iran” (see no. 2), surely some of her other work steeped in religious and biblical motifs could, in theory, claim the trophy in Austria. After all, Narkis is widely recognized as one of the most distinctive voices in Israel’s contemporary spiritual-pop scene.

Let’s see her at work, modestly dressed and with always neatly covered hair, singing with Israeli soldiers tasked with retrieving bodies from southern Israel.

“We are finishing off Gaza
We’ll return Gush Katif [former Israeli settlements in the Gaza Strip]
We are a light unto the non-Jews”

When questioned about the apparent genocidal overtones, Narkis insisted that her intention was not to call for the destruction of Gaza, where she herself grew up, but rather to “lift the spirits of a group of traumatized soldiers”.

In a separate interview regarding October 7, the artist emphasized how important it is to remember that “there is a Creator, and that this happened for some reason, even if we don’t know that reason. Our job now as the people of Israel is to be united.”

By music? Narkis could, in theory, lift the spirits of Eurovision audiences traumatized by the broadcast propaganda that suggested there was genocide in Gaza.

13. ‘Wh*re’ doesn’t stand for ‘where’

Another Narkis and another Mizrahi-pop artist – Lior Narkis – could hop over to Austria as Israel’s representative at Eurovision 2026.

That wouldn’t be his first appearance on the EBU’s stage. At ESC 2003 in Riga, Lior Narkis represented Israel with “Words of Love”, a heartfelt quest for the perfect phrase to formulate the most intimate feelings. He finished 19^th.

The artist who comes from a family of Iraqi and Serbian Jewish heritage (his cross-nationality positions him neatly among the most famous Eurovision contestants) was much more direct than the female Narkis when he addressed IDF soldiers in November 2023.

Having doubt that #Israel is a racist entity?

Popular Israeli singer Lior Narkis singing for Israeli soldiers. pic.twitter.com/oD9kKlitfF

— PALESTINE ONLINE 🇵🇸 (@OnlinePalEng) November 16, 2023

These were his words:

“Gaza, you black woman, you trash,
Gaza, you b*tch
Gaza, daughter of a huge wh*re,
Like your mother, Gaza
Gaza, you wh*re”

Two decades after singing ‘I love you’ in multiple European languages, Lior did his best to express his deepest emotions towards Gaza, too. It would be a pity for Eurovision audiences to forget this endless romantic, always on the lookout for new love languages.

14. Promising death to Gaza

Rinat Bar, another member of Israel’s mainstream Mizrahi music scene, could also be a potential addition to Eurovision’s 2026 line-up.

Born into a Georgian Jewish family, Rinat is an artist whose music “bridges cultural divides” (Viberate).

That bridge, however, appears to be made of glass. In November 2023, videos circulated online showing Bar performing for armed Israeli soldiers, singing lyrics that openly promised death not only to Hamas and Hezbollah leaders Yahya Sinwar and Hassan Nasrallah, but also to Gaza itself.

 

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A post shared by Middle East Monitor (@middleeastmonitor)

Adding another layer of controversy, the song plagiarized the melody of the beloved Egyptian classic “Bint Al Sultan”. Introducing the performance as being sung “by all that is sacred” and “with all the love for you”, Rinat Bar delivered the following rhymes:

“Dear Yahya Sinwar,
Along with Nasrallah,
You will die tomorrow,
As all of Gaza”

Using a familiar Arabic melody to carry Hebrew verses explicitly promising death to named political figures and to an entire population, Bar aligned herself seamlessly with the rhetoric of official Israel. In doing so, she positioned herself as a valid representative of the country for future international appearances, making everyone proud. Douze points, indeed.

15. The real hit list – Beheading Dua Lipa

If Eurovision 2026 wanted an act that is truly viral, catchy, and morally indefensible, Israeli hip-hop duo Nessya (Nesia) Levy and Dor Soroker (Stilla) could be prime candidates.

In 2023, their song “Harbu Darbu” (or “Charbu Darbu”) reached #1 in Israel, becoming a hip-hop wartime anthem.

With 36 million YouTube views and 12.5 streams on Spotify, it was one of the most played songs in the country.

How an Israeli pro-war song, which has been condemned as a call for genocide, has topped the music charts in Israel for several weeks ⤵️ pic.twitter.com/HguTFOhF79

— Al Jazeera English (@AJEnglish) December 5, 2023

What explains its popularity? The song explicitly calls for the death of Hamas leaders like Ismail Haniyeh and Mohammed Deif, but also puts the target on the names of Western celebrities known for expressing pro-Palestinian views.

“All the IDF units are ready, in the mood to put
The heat of the sword on your head
(…)
Bella Hadid, Mia Khalifa, Dua Lipa
Every dog’s day will come”

Released in the aftermath of October 7, during a period of national trauma, the track resonated with young Israelis. Drill and trap beats, emotional intensity, and viral-ready hooks made it an instant TikTok and Instagram reel sensation, doubling as a hype song for soldiers.

If it worked in Israel, the most “European” country in the Middle East, maybe genocidal hip-hop that praises the inscription of Israeli children’s names on bombs dropped on Gaza, rains hell on “rats” who shout “Free Palestine”, literally spits on sons of Amalek and calls for more destruction, military action and displacement, can become a true Eurovision summer hit of 2026.

Israel and Eurovision 2026 – Conclusion

Not all Israeli musicians actively support the genocidal policies of their government. But this article has not attempted to dissect Israeli ethnicity or identity, but representation. On that front, social media platforms already select which songs represent Israel globally. So if Eurovision is about cultural representation, then perhaps Israel’s most honest ambassadors are already performing. Just not on the song contests.

The Israel Eurovision controversy doesn’t even rest on the type of song they would like to represent themselves with on the greatest televised music stage. Whether it’s another syrupy “power ballad” or a “joyful and carefree song”, there is no right way to artwash a nation whose global image has been shaped, over the years, by violent acts and propaganda.

Rather than letting the world form its own understanding of Israel’s position in the Middle East, the official approach to Eurovision mirrors its approach to neighbors: aggressively, violently, and with the assumption that audiences are too naïve to see through the fabrication. Israel’s path through Eurovision is littered with fake applause, fake cheers, and fake votes – a stage-managed illusion of normalcy.

No “united by music” propaganda can fix what was broken during the live broadcast of the genocide

The fact that a country, despite deep domestic crises, insists on embedding itself in Eurovision at all costs (those costs, summing up just Moroccanoil’s sponsorship and government’s purchase of over 25 million ads, are literally humongous, even if we exclude truly pricy negative effects on the nation’s image), tells us that Eurovision’s holy grail is not just the obsessive target of Israel’s musical pathos, but also – pathology.

While KAN debates who will represent Israel at Eurovision 2026 to appeal to international voters, it goes unrecognized that Israel has been representing itself in numerous non-Eurovision contexts over the years. No “united by music” propaganda can fix what was broken during the live broadcast of the genocide.

Instead of wasting money on yet another Eurovision participation that might drag the entire contest into the grave without achieving the desired outcome, Israel might better allocate its resources to the unavoidable future work: war reparations, trauma support on both sides, and building a healthier society capable of receiving criticism without turning on the anti-Semitic alarm. A society that can confront itself honestly instead of being brainwashed by its politicians and media.

Maybe EBU, if it already has such media among its members, could have the same goal as well.

What do you think about Israel’s representation in Eurovision? 
Leave your comment below and pin the article for later!

The post Terrified by Music: Who Should Represent Israel at Eurovision 2026? appeared first on Pipeaway.

Can the Eurovision Song Contest, whose perception is now completely hijacked by Israel, survive its unprecedented collapse?

At the EBU General Assembly in Geneva, on December 4-5, washed out from dodging questions and eschewing accountability for the greatest mess Eurovision has ever seen, the parent organization couldn’t even muster the courage to put Israel’s participation in Eurovision to a vote.

Instead of letting its members decide whether the project can proceed with a representative of a genocide-committing state (that vote was repeatedly rescheduled), the EBU polled broadcasters on a new voting system and rules designed to stop governments from manipulating audiences with paid influence campaigns. Israel’s sin that inspired the reform would not be sanctioned.

Faced with the fact that the EBU was ghosting them for months, Spain, Ireland, the Netherlands, and Slovenia were the first to walk out. The toll of not upsetting Israel might see more countries sacrificing their participation.

Can a contest whose perception is now completely hijacked by Israel survive this unprecedented collapse? Does the EBU truly believe this will all blow over in time for Eurovision’s 70^th anniversary, when everything will again be covered in good old glitter?

Israel’s new era of artwashing has been given a green light. But imagining that the rest of Europe will stay a silent tabula rasa is wishful thinking at best. For broadcasters still clinging to the wobbling laundromat, this green light is really a red flag. Perhaps the only flag that Eurovision, in its bizarre tactics of avoiding political controversies, had to ban.

UPDATE:

On December 10, Iceland became the fifth country to decide not to compete in the 70th Eurovision Song Contest because of Israel. RÚV, the Icelandic National Broadcasting Service, stated that the participation of Israel's KAN has "created disunity" among both EBU members and the general public, and that this complex matter "has already damaged the contest's reputation and EBU". "According to public discourse in Iceland and the response to EBU's decision last week, RÚV's participation will neither be a source of joy nor peace", they explained in their withdrawal statement.

The same day, 11 of the 16 competing acts at Festival da Canção announced they would not represent Portugal at Eurovision if they won, in protest against Israel’s inclusion in the contest. "We do not accept complicity with the violation of human rights", seventeen signatories said in a joint statement. The broadcaster RTP has reaffirmed it will still send its representative to Eurovision in Vienna.

On December 11, Eurovision 2024 winner Nemo (Switzerland) announced they will return their trophy back to the EBU, reminding that Israel's participation during what UN's Independent International Commission of Inquiry has concluded to be a genocide, is in conflict with the ideals of unity, inclusion, and dignity Eurovision stands for. "The contest was repeatedly used to soften the image of a state accused for severe wrongdoing, all while the EBU insisted Eurovision is 'non-political'", said the artist. "Live what you claim. If the values we celebrate onstage aren't lived offstage, then even the most beautiful songs lose their meaning."

December 12 brought another laureate's protest against Israel's ESC return. This time, Eurovision 1994 winner Charlie McGettigan (Ireland) decided to give his trophy back to the EBU as well.

How to Smuggle a War Narrative Into Eurovision

What began in 2024, with Eden Golan’s “October Rain” (forced to be renamed as “Hurricane”), and continued with Yuval Raphael’s 2025 entry “New Day Will Rise”, has been Israel’s political narrative camouflaged into passable Eurovision performances.

The EBU has historically drawn its red lines quite confidently. Georgia was benched in 2009, Belarus in 2021, and Russia in 2022. Even poor Joost Klein – the Netherlands’ 2024 representative – was ejected at breakneck speed after criticizing Israel, before the EBU bothered to verify the harassment incident allegations. The “no politics” rule, it seems, can be applied with stunning punctuality when convenient.

And yet Israel, with its “angelic voices” singing about storms and dawns, somehow floated through Eurovision’s hyper-sensitive political radar, despite barely pretending not to be political.

Yuval Raphael, who survived the October 7 attack by playing dead among corpses, as instructed by her father (a phone call that somehow ended up recorded), was elevated into a mascot of Israel’s “righteous” war with Hamas.

“She needs to play her father’s recording. She needs to shock people”, declared TV show judge Shiri Maimon after Yuval’s ‘Hakochav Haba’ (Rising Star) victory.

The show host chimed in: “Her story is something no one there will be able to stay indifferent to.”

“I hope so, I hope so”, his colleague added.

Israeli President Isaac Herzog personally sent Yuval Raphael off to Switzerland, wishing her “the best of luck in this mission”.

The same president who signs bombs being launched at Gaza and produces perfectly preserved “Mein Kampf” from a Palestinian child’s room, boosted the young singer with these words: “You have a wonderful personality, your story is incredible, and every time I hear the song, my heart swells with pride. We want so much for you to succeed.”

It didn’t stop with warm wishes and patriotic pep talks.

If you're wondering who could or should represent Israel at Eurovision 2026, check out these unofficial entries!

Israel’s Eurovision Ad Campaign

Just moments before Yuval would step on Basel’s Eurovision stage, Israel’s Prime Minister (and wanted war criminal) Benjamin Netanyahu asked his Instagram followers to vote for “New Day Will Rise” twenty times, the maximum allowed by EBU.

Israel’s official accounts stimulated fans across Instagram and TikTok to cast at least ten votes apiece.

And the most controversial of all, the Israeli Government Advertising Agency (Lapam), the same bureau that produced ads featuring Hamas’ executions of so-called “collaborators”, also paid for Yuval’s targeted ad campaign. Israel’s Eurovision ads on YouTube even popped up during the official live broadcast of the final.

One of the problematic ad videos, now deleted from the “Vote #04 New Day Will Rise” account but still archived via the Wayback Machine, amassed over 25 million views in two weeks. For perspective, Yuval’s official Grand Final video gained barely 4.3 million views in the last 6 months! The entire Eurovision Grand Final was seen “only” 13 million times.

Clearly, the massive ad campaign investment paid off. Israel received a staggering number of maximum douze points (the highest score from 12 participating countries, as well as from the ‘Rest of the World’ vote). A song that was not popular on charts or streaming platforms (which means people didn’t listen to it much) suddenly topped televotes across Europe.

Figures released for countries like Spain and Belgium do show eyebrow-raising voting patterns. Televotes in the Grand Final multiplied tenfold while viewership only quadrupled (in the Spanish case), or even dropped (only 952,634 Belgians watched the final, yet 220,554 votes were cast).

So Israel’s song that professional juries placed in the bottom half of the table (awarding it just 60 points, and ranking it 14^th out of 26) ended up being the audience’s undisputed champion. Yuval’s act got 297 points from the viewers, leaving behind fan favorites such as Estonia’s “Espresso macchiato” and Sweden’s “Bara Bada Bastu”.

In September, Eurovision News Spotlight revealed that the Israeli government paid Google nearly €40 million for advertising over just six months.

Concerns and Deeply Held Views – ISIS Against Israel

“Eurovision is a competition between broadcasters, not governments.”

Whenever anyone questioned Israel’s eligibility to compete, this was the EBU’s go-to response. If you followed, you’ve heard it numerous times.

But then it was discovered that Israel’s government had financed Yuval’s voting campaign. Instead of picking up the phone and firmly telling Isaac Herzog the very same mantra (“Sorry, Mr. President, but Eurovision is a competition between broadcasters, not governments”), the EBU responded to vote-rigging criticism with an immediate acquittal: there was no violation of rules.

Check out how Palestine protests marked the Turquoise Carpet event in Basel 2025 – footage you couldn’t have seen on Eurovision’s official channel! (However, in the ESC’s live broadcast of the event, you could hear their commentator Tanja Dankner saying “Music really unites people” just after the Israeli delegation endured some extremely loud whistles from the crowds, muted in the final footage.)

The loudest in demanding transparency were Ireland, Spain, Iceland, and Slovenia (coincidentally, the acronym spells out ISIS, Israel’s favorite boogeyman), later joined by the Netherlands, a country hosting the Hague Tribunal that accused Israel’s leadership of war crimes.

Whenever these countries would reach out to EBU, asking why Israel was not treated like Russia (evicted in 2022 for invading Ukraine), the organization would parrot a robotic phrase: “We understand the concerns and deeply held views around the current conflict in the Middle East.”

Every. Single. Time.

Whether it was EBU’s spokesperson, director Martin Green, or a general press statement, the same words flowed out, usually followed by something like: “It is not our role to make comparisons between conflicts.”

The repetitive PR platitudes sounded as if someone had asked artificial intelligence, “how to diplomatically reject the request for the exclusion of Israel from Eurovision”.

To test it, I asked ChatGPT exactly that. The proposed answer was strikingly similar: “While we acknowledge the serious and deeply held concerns regarding the ongoing conflict in the Middle East, the EBU’s role is not to make judgments on geopolitical matters, but to maintain an inclusive space where dialogue, understanding, and peaceful cultural exchange can continue.”

Was there a human working in the EBU?

Fun fact: Google the phrase “concerns and deeply held views”, and you’ll get dozens and dozens of results. All pointing to articles on – Eurovision. Talk about a corporate catchphrase! Maybe this should be Eurovision’s slogan.

The Jerusalem Weekend Getaway That Wasn’t Political

At the Geneva assembly, Roland Weissmann, chairman of Austria’s ORF and the man preparing to host Eurovision 2026 in Vienna, recited the familiar line from the EBU’s PR book: “This contest is a competition for broadcasters, not governments.”

The man who claimed now was “the time for diplomacy” also added that he personally had advocated for Israel’s participation.

What did that diplomacy look like? A month before meeting his European colleagues, Weissmann spent a pleasant weekend in Jerusalem, where he arrived to meet none other than Israel’s President Isaac Herzog himself (yes, that same guy who autographs bombs killing children, women, and, not less important, journalists).

Warmly welcomed at the Presidential Residence (because why would Israel’s President travel to Vienna to lobby when the servants seem perfectly happy to come to his lobby on their own), Weissmann declared his allegiance to “the mission”: “Eurovision will mark its 70^th anniversary next year, and Israel is an inseparable part of the contest.”

The spokeswoman of KAN, Israel’s broadcaster, interpreted that Weissmann’s visit was aimed at “working to ensure that Israel participates in the Eurovision Song Contest”.

To demonstrate how completely normal it is for the Eurovision host broadcaster to visit the president of one of the would-be contestants, Herzog even offered some remarks on media freedoms, stressing how important it is to maintain “KAN’s editorial and operational independence as Israel’s public broadcaster.”

Back in Austria, the newly minted diplomat Weissman told reporters that his team was engaged in conversations “with broadcasters such as Spain, Ireland and Slovenia to address concerns around Israel’s participation”.

But RTVE President José Pablo López quickly clarified that no such conversations had taken place: “The president of Austria’s public broadcaster has met with the President of Israel, which says a lot about the Contest’s politicization. I thought broadcasters, not countries, were the ones taking part. That’s what the EBU keeps insisting. No shame.”

For those who won't be able to attend Eurovision in Vienna, the EBU invented a series of summer concerts. But the Eurovision Song Contest Live Tour doesn't go beyond the new Iron Curtain! Check out how this very peculiar concentration camp came to be.

Delay, distract, delete – the EBU’s postponement Olympics

Instead of answering the growing calls for an independent audit of the public vote and sanctioning KAN for breaking the Code of Conduct (which bans any political promotion “during or in relation to the event”), the EBU spent the entire year making sure Israel’s fate at Eurovision would never be in the hands of its members.

In July in London, they didn’t vote on expelling Israel because the BBC (whose former reputation for unimpeachable journalism has been eroded by its Gaza coverage) asked for a delay until winter. They linked the decision to “the outcome of the war in Gaza”, as though a ceasefire would magically wash Israel’s bloody hands.

EBU then scheduled the online vote on Israel’s participation for early November. This one was postponed after Hamas released the final hostages. As if that was somehow related to the fact that a genocide-committing state is allowed on a song-contest stage.

By December, the EBU found its most elegant escape route yet. They somehow managed to fuse the Israel question with a vote on new contest rules. If broadcasters approved these rules, no vote on Israel would take place. And so it was.

The EBU’s official Assembly statement doesn’t even mention Israel. Not once. Instead, it simply declares that everyone who accepts new rules is eligible to take part.

And the new rules themselves? Juries return to the semi-finals and expand with young professionals, governments are gently discouraged from bankrolling promo campaigns, and viewers can now cast 10 votes instead of 20.

None of these cosmetic tweaks explains why a vote on Israel’s participation had to disappear in their shadow. It’s not as if the first voted question was “Can a country engaged in an aggression against neighbors perform on the Eurovision stage?”, which would make a specific Israel poll redundant.

Eurovision as €-vision

While the new rulebook was accepted by the majority of broadcasters, many critics see these changes as insufficient to stop manipulations. Without requiring that the now lower number of maximum votes go to different songs, the risk of organized voting schemes remains.

Ever since the voting window ballooned from 15 minutes to an entire Eurovision evening, and each voter got 20 chances to vote (supposedly to support large families whose members may disagree on their favorites), it was clear that EBU is that “large family”. And that it cherishes the televote income far more than the integrity of the televote outcome.

Obviously, “one person – one vote” is an ideal that EBU doesn’t plan to consider, as it would only create massive holes in the budget.

The union that defends the independence of public broadcasters revealed a vulnerable underbelly when it comes to money. Eurovision’s dependence on its biggest sponsor, Moroccanoil (despite its name, this is an Israeli company, generously sponsoring the event since 2019), has long cast a shadow over whether Israel receives truly neutral treatment. Even in this new context, the sponsorship was extended for 2026. Eurovision seems to devalue perception.

No matter how dirty money arriving from shady sponsorships, YouTube paid campaigns, and possibly coordinated voting farms might be, all of this forms a lucrative machinery that feeds Eurovision, which is getting pricier and pricier every year.

As for the four countries leaving Eurovision, the language around their exit was telling: their departure was primarily counted as a financial loss, less a cultural one. Still, the financial risk is “very manageable”, calculates utterly unworried Herzog’s best buddy Roland Weissmann. “Should one or two countries not participate, it is absolutely feasible”, the Austrian public broadcaster said.

Israel can’t afford to miss Eurovision

The Eurovision boycott over Israel was never addressed with due concern for the future of this event. As it now seems, the near future either brings true reforms of the entire ecosystem or the complete crumbling of the institution under the weight of political scandals.

The politics in Eurovision is hardly a topic that will disappear if EBU just ignores it. No “United by Music” slogan can hypnotize thinking citizens to blindly hum rhymes like their corrupt and complicit governments (and public broadcasters) sometimes do. People don’t switch off their conscience just because a theme song tells them to.

It’s easier not to hear screams of 140 Palestinians killed by Israel’s attacks on the Grand Final day when you’re anxiously waiting whether Yuval Raphael will nail a high note

German and Austrian officials defending Israel’s participation dismissed boycotts as “dumb and pointless” (ironically, these smart and purposeful thinkers threatened to boycott Eurovision if Israel was excluded). Critics of contest walkouts claim cultural bans punish artists born under the “wrong flag”, and have no impact on governments.

Well, Israel’s religious attachment to Eurovision suggests the opposite.

Noa (Achinoam Nini), who represented Israel alongside Arab artist Mira Awad in 2009, proposed a diplomatic route for her country: she urged Israel to voluntarily sit out one year “as an act of solidarity with ALL who have suffered and are still suffering”.

But the official Israel doesn’t want a break, even when staying in the entertainment spotlight clearly hurts its public image. As KAN’s lawyer says, “Eurovision is more than a song contest for them”.

Often interpreted as Israel’s soft power that legitimizes its culture, projects normalcy and the positive image of the country abroad, Eurovision is even more important as a domestic balm, despite being just a temporary stage for distraction.

Simply put, it’s easier not to hear screams of 140 Palestinians killed by Israel’s attacks on the Grand Final day when you’re anxiously waiting whether Yuval Raphael will nail a high note.

Eurovision as Cultural Detergent

For Israeli opinion makers, the scoreboard is irrelevant. Israel wins even when it loses.

Hannah Brown at The Jerusalem Post celebrated Eurovision as proof that the world isn’t against Israel: “The fact that European audiences have embraced Israeli participants and given them their votes contradicts the narrative that Israel is a hated, pariah state.”

Itxu Diaz in Tablet recognized the enemy in the “leftist European governments” allegedly trying to rig the contest: “Maybe the Eurovision popular vote is an indication that Europeans no longer want to be slaves to political elites who side with terrorists.”

Meanwhile, Amy Spiro at The Times of Israel unveiled a conspiracy behind the “hate” against Yuval: “Some analysts have predicted that the professional juries could deliberately downgrade or snub Raphael regardless of what they think of her performance, in order to counteract a landslide in the public vote, or to confirm their countrymen’s ambivalence toward Israel.”

Or Amini, in the same publication, read the televote as a moral compass: “Apparently, ordinary Europeans look up to Israel as a symbol. (…) They know that the war here is justified out of self-defense, despite what others might say. And that apparently translated into the myriads of 12 points in the popular vote.”

Whether the message is “the entire world hates us” or “the entire world loves us”, heavily disturbed societies find comfort in “us versus them” rituals. Social media memes only reinforce the narrative – Eden Golan in a white dress, Bambie Thug as a black witch – suggesting who stands on the “right side of history”.

For the same reasons Vladimir Putin resurrected Intervision (not for his love of music), Eurovision serves as a stage for Israel’s political theater. The contest functions as a cultural detergent, scrubbing away inconvenient truths and establishing more convenient myths.

12 Points for Artwashing – A New Day Will Not Rise Here

During the interval act “Made in Switzerland”, Hazel Brugger and Sandra Studer – hosts of Eurovision 2025 in Basel – offered a lesson on the contest’s supposed neutrality: “And now you understand, that like the Swiss, Eurovision is non-political, strictly neutral. Doesn’t matter if you’re good or brutal, welcome gender diversity, but with decency and no nudity.”

However, Christian Knecht, the author of these bizarre lyrics, got it wrong; it does matter whether you’re good or brutal. It matters a lot.

The EBU leadership might not care more than robotically acknowledging “concerns and deeply held views”, but in this representative spectacle where audiences wave national flags instead of signs with singers’ names, decency and nudity should not be the only criteria for excluding a country.

Instead of flying its representatives to European institutions such as the International Criminal Court, Israel sends Benjamin Netanyahu’s human shields to entertain us on Eurovision stages

Nazi Germany also sponsored traveling art exhibitions and concerts to soften its image, contrasting its classical sculptures with “degenerate art” (similar vocabulary now used to degrade the music of Eurovision-boycotting countries), or employing orchestras to play Beethoven and Wagner as a distraction from wartime aggression. While cultural diversions served Reich propaganda (which, nota bene, suppressed Jewish contributions), they didn’t legitimize artwashing.

The operation in Gaza terminated over 70,000 “human-shield” lives to rescue a handful of hostages. Instead of flying its representatives to European institutions such as the International Criminal Court, Israel sends Benjamin Netanyahu’s human shields to entertain us on Eurovision stages.

With the EBU’s silent blessing, a country that enabled some of the gravest atrocities of our era – the holocaust in Gaza – is allowed to launder its deranged military actions through pop songs. Glitter becomes camouflage. The world’s clapping hands, fake applause, and manipulated votes become approval. This spectacle doesn’t help Israeli society confront reality. On the contrary, it deepens the denial and historical idea of grandeur, delaying, rather than delivering any real new day.

What is your view of Israel’s Eurovision victory?
Did EBU open the door for future artwashing as well?
Leave a comment below and pin the article for later!

The post Israel is a True Winner of Eurovision 2025: New Artwashing Will Rise appeared first on Pipeaway.

Basler Herbstmesse records more than 1 million visitors a year

Basel in autumn is politely cool, somewhere between 5 and 15˚C. Sticky coating of honeydew on the Rhine promenade gives way to rustling carpets of fallen linden leaves. Riverside buvettes pack up, even the bravest swimmers retire their river-floating habits, and umbrellas begin their seasonal comeback. But a little rain here and there won’t drive the crowd indoors. The gravitational pull of the Basel fall fair is so strong that wet weather cannot ruin the fun.

Every year, the number of visitors to Basler Herbstmesse consistently lands at over 1 million, the majority of them arriving from Switzerland, and neighboring France and Germany.

Whether they’re hunting down classic carousels, heart-stopping thrill rides, warm magenbrot, or simply the irresistible mix of medieval charm and modern spectacle, Basel’s Herbstmesse, with 460 stalls and businesses, guarantees sensory overload for visitors of every age.

In this guide, you’ll find everything you need to know about the Basler Herbstmesse, one of the most beloved Basel events and one of Europe’s largest inner-city fairs. Buckle up, Basel’s autumn magic is about to sweep you in.

Not every amusement lives as long as Basel's one. Read the story on the death and demolition of Japan's Nara Dreamland!

What is the Herbstmesse Basel?

The Herbstmesse Basel is a citywide festival that transforms Basel into an enormous open-air playground.

For two weeks in autumn, the city’s historic squares burst into life with traditional craft markets, thrill attractions (rollercoasters, carousels, bumper cars, and other rides), and the irresistible aromas drifting from food stalls (think molten raclette, roasted almonds, gingerbread-like magenbrot, and Basel’s beloved striped candy, mässmogge).

Basel Autumn Fair is a unique fusion of medieval tradition and modern funfair energy, the meeting point of nostalgia, excitement, and Swiss tradition that draws hundreds of thousands of visitors every year.

Basler Herbstmesse history

If you’re wondering how old the Basler Herbstmesse really is, brace yourself: this fair predates cotton candy, electricity, and even Switzerland as a federal state. Its story begins in the Middle Ages!

The origins of the Basel Autumn Fair reach back to the mid-15th century, when Pope Pius II himself issued a recommendation for holding a fair to help revive the struggling city of Basel, stricken by wars, famine, and diseases.

The papal letter sat quietly in a court drawer until July 1471, when Emperor Frederick III of the House of Habsburg granted Basel the right to host a yearly fair (Jahrmarkt or Chilbi), guaranteeing this privilege “for all time”.

What began on 27 October 1471, as a medieval marketplace with merchants, jugglers, wrestlers, fortune tellers, bearded ladies, and even prostitutes (ways to make visitors’ pockets lighter are numerous after all), has since evolved into a celebration of craftsmanship, gastronomy, and entertainment. Over the centuries, the fair became a cornerstone of Basel’s social life that reaffirmed the city’s economic and cultural importance in the region.

Today, while the neon lights and high-tech rides are unmistakably modern (it was the 20th century when electricity enabled technically sophisticated attractions), the Herbstmesse never lost its historical soul.

The fair’s uninterrupted continuity through wars, political crises, and shifting eras is a point of immense local pride. Herbstmesse Basel is a rare European medieval fair that never vanished, which is why, for many Swiss families, returning to the Herbstmesse isn’t just a fun outing. One of the oldest European fairs is their annual tradition, almost a pilgrimage to a living piece of history.

The history of Basler Herbstmesse accidents and incidents

Wherever large crowds gather, mischief tends to follow, and the Basler Herbstmesse has been proving that for over five centuries. The earliest editions already attracted a colorful cast of pimps, pickpockets, and cardsharps, prompting Basel’s council to establish a dedicated fair police, a special fair court, and even deploy mounted mercenaries to guard the roads leading into the city.

Jump to the 21st century, and while medieval swindlers have largely disappeared, technology has introduced a whole new category of mishaps.

In 2017, six people were injured when two Rock & Roller Coaster cars collided after a brake malfunction. Just moments later, a drunk man fell from the Round Up Rounder carousel after attempting to hop into a neighboring compartment mid-ride, and seriously injured his head when he hit the ground.

More recent years have featured both human and non-human errors.

In 2023, a brutal fight broke out around the Basler Herbstmesse’s boxing machines, leaving one of the teenagers with life-threatening injuries. Convinced these macho-bravado devices fuel aggressive behavior, the city has since banned boxing machines from the fair.

In 2024, the Hip Hop ride abruptly stopped due to a power outage, leaving riders hanging in an uncomfortable position for 11 minutes. 

By 2025, reports counted five brawls and five temporary expulsions from the fair. But the year's most memorable oddity came when a couple took their cat on a bumper car, sparking an unexpected debate on animal welfare. Only three lost children were registered this year, supposedly far fewer than in the past.

Despite incidents being rare and isolated, the city of Basel tried to increase oversight and even experimented with technology to keep the event safer in 2025. However, immediately after they engaged autonomous security robots to patrol the fair, these were pulled from service due to data privacy concerns.

Basel Autumn Fair’s Key Features

1. Seven distinct fairgrounds (Plätze)

Unlike most funfairs that cram everything into one field and call it a day, the Basel Autumn Fair spreads across multiple historic squares.

With each location offering something different, visitors are encouraged to wander, snack, ride, repeat… and rediscover the fair again and again from totally new angles.

Here’s what each of the Basler Herbstmesse’s locations brings to the table:

Barfüsserplatz

This super central and, by tram, easily reachable square hosts a cheerful blend of rides, games, and food stalls.

The offer at Barfüsserplatz includes family-friendly attractions (Pinky, Babyflug, Disney Dream, Duck Pavilion), but also something for thrill-seekers – the 40-meter-high chain carousel Sky Swing, or the adrenaline-packed Hangover ride.

This square is also a paradise for anyone with a sweet tooth. Think marshmallows, crepes, cotton candy, and the finest confiserie from Sprüngli, Sigrist, Wetzel, and others.

Prefer something savory? You’re covered: pinsa, tacos, currywurst, fondue, and grilled treats.

The legendary roasted chestnuts on this square are offered by the Brombin family, who’ve been perfecting them since 1927.

Barfüsserplatz is Basler Herbstmesse location that’s ideal for both younger visitors and adults seeking a lively, central fairground vibe, with Basel’s Old Town as the backdrop.

Münsterplatz

Set against Basel’s magnificent cathedral, Münsterplatz is where nostalgia rules: traditional carousels, wooden stalls, and a postcard-perfect atmosphere.

Many of the classic rides here have been delighting families for generations. They may not launch you into the sky at breakneck speed, but what they lack in intensity, they make up for in charm.

Overshadowing balloon stands, shooting and ring-throwing cars, showstoppers on this iconic square are the Crazy-Run (an original Swiss attraction ride featuring horse-drawn carriages whisking you through disco-style lighting), carousels ranging from children’s Swan Lake and Fairy Tale Flight with dragons and Aladdin’s carpet, to more thrilling Octopus, and – the tallest of them all – Bellevue, the 60-meter art nouveau Ferris wheel offering panoramic views over the city from its 42 enclosed gondolas.

In the food corner of the square, you’ll find everything from Cornish pasties, empanadas, risotto, and Swiss corn dogs to spicy raclette, freshly prepared potato chips, and grilled meats.

Dietary restrictions? You’ll also be able to get a vegetarian halloumi-burger, as well as crepes made from Swiss free-range eggs, including lactose-free and gluten-free versions.

Sweettooths will be happy to treat themselves to homemade waffles, warm pretzels, chocolate-dipped fruit skewers, and a range of mouthwatering artisan confections.

Münsterplatz is great for families, romantics, and anyone who appreciates classic fairground magic set against one of Basel’s most historic and beautiful backdrops.

Basel's Bellevue is a miniature when compared to the biggest Ferris wheels in the world. Check them out!

Messeplatz

If the Basel Autumn Fair had a “most likely to touch the sky” award, Messeplatz would win it every year. As the most modern and energetic of the Basler Herbstmesse sites, this square features high-profile rides and attractions that light up the city skyline.

Right next to the tram stop at Basel’s exhibition square, you’ll find a beloved classic: the Calypso, a 1960s carousel that spins with the kind of retro charm you can’t manufacture. It also happens to be the opening star of the Pipeaway Walk video, so take a look.

If you are a thrill-seeker, the heavy hitters are:

• Jules Verne Tower – An 80-meter-high chain carousel whips you around at up to 65 km/h. Romantic views and mild terror included.
• Deep Zone – Famously known as the fastest and wildest ride in Switzerland, this spinner will pump your adrenaline.
• Dance Jumper – A chaotic ballet of sudden drops, spins, and direction changes makes your stomach ask serious questions.

Between adrenaline rushes, Messeplatz’s bustling food and refreshment mile keeps everyone happy. You’ll find a variety of fair snacks here, from traditional Swiss cuisine to international specialties (burgers, quiches, churros, flammkuchen, arancini, kebab, fried noodles, lángos).

If you crave speed, lights, modern rides, and a healthy dose of “I probably shouldn’t have eaten that before going on Deep Zone”, Messeplatz is your kingdom.

Hallenmesse

Hallenmesse is the only indoor world of the Basler Herbtmesse, and a godsend for anyone whose cotton-candy soul melts at the first sign of rain. Set inside Messehalle 1, just steps from Messeplatz, this is where the funfair goes undercover.

The place that hosts everything from Eurovision Village to Fantasy Basel cosplays is more than capable of handling anything, including a full-blown amusement park packed under one gigantic roof. Inside, you’ll find a chaos of lights, music, snacks, rides, and games, all thriving shielded from wind and weather.

At Hall 1, you’ll spot timeless fair icons such as the Break Dance, where centrifugal force does its best to rearrange your internal organs, and the wobbly, crowd-favorite Tagada, a spinning disk that tests both balance and loyalty to whoever you’re riding with. Feeling aquatic? Step inside the oversized Waterballs and roll your way across a pool like a human hamster.

Whether you’re seeking shelter from the rain, a less windy place to snack, or a guaranteed-fun zone for kids and adults, Hallenmesse delivers the joy of a classic fairground with the comfort of a climate-controlled bubble.

Rosentalanlage

Historically the oldest fairground in Kleinbasel, Rosentalanlage is a venue built atop a former cemetery. This leafy park has transformed over the centuries into a lively venue for circuses, events, and a charming slice of the Basel Autumn Fair.

During the fair, the park blends classic nostalgia with novelty, for example, the vintage Enterprise, the waggling carousel Swing Up, the 120-degree-tilted Phoenix, or the overhead, heart-stopping sensation Hip Hop.

Prefer to stay closer to the ground (and keep your stomach where it belongs)? Hollywood Drive bumper cars let you control the chaos, one satisfying collision at a time.

Sweeten up your day with cravings such as popcorn, cotton candy, roasted almonds, and other sugar-laced treats that guarantee a happy stroll through the park!

Kasernenareal

During the Basler Herbstmesse, the vast open area near the former Rhine-side barracks transforms into the fair’s unofficial “extreme zone”, home to the boldest, loudest, and most adrenaline-charged rides.

Recent editions at Kaserne grounds included high-thrill amusements such as the 80-meter-high free-fall Fortress Tower (one of the tallest mobile spinning drop towers in the world), or Mythos (a rotating platform that spins you at speeds reaching 100 km/h).

If you prefer games over g-forces, the Kasernenareal square offers everything from ball-throwing and air-rifle shooting to chicken-flinging, bowling, and the ever-addictive Camel Race derby. Kids and young-spirited adults can try their luck at toy-grabbing crane claw machines, while fun houses like Coco Bongo or the mirror maze deliver giggles instead of whiplash.

Still, this Basler Herbstmesse place is primarily the domain of action-seekers. Classic stomach-flippers such as the Katz & Maus rollercoaster and fast-paced looping rides like Burner make Kaserne the hotspot for intensity-craving freaks.

And then there’s the fair’s most charming oddity: on the second Sunday of Basel Autumn Fair, the barracks grounds host a mass service conducted entirely in Autoscooter bumper cars. If having fun is your religion, this is the perfect moment to pray for God’s mercy at the fair, as you’ll swing, turn, and see the heavens in ways you didn’t think were possible.

Petersplatz

Petersplatz is where the Basler Herbstmesse slows down and where exhibitors celebrate craftsmanship, tradition, and the artisanal fair. This square is famous for its hundreds of market and trade stalls, offering souvenirs, pottery, and handmade goods – the classic Hääfelimärt vibe, especially along Bernoulistrasse, a tradition that’s been delighting visitors since 1877.

The Handwerkerdörfli (crafts-village) is the heart of Petersplatz, hosting live demonstrations of traditional crafts such as woodworking, weaving, printing, candle-making, or soap-making. It’s the perfect spot to watch artisans at work and pick up some unique gifts.

In comparison to loud thrill zones, Petersplatz is quieter and more relaxed. Rides here are fewer and gentler, making it ideal for families or anyone wanting a break from constant adrenaline noise. Highlights include the glowing two-story Resslirytti horse carousel and the world’s oldest mobile ghost train, the haunted Vienna Prater Ghost Train (in operation since the 1930s).

Petersplatz is also a paradise for sweets lovers, as 25 confectionery stalls serve up their best: from magenbrot to marzipan, from nougat to chestnuts, from pancakes to pastel de nata.

2. Signature Food

The mouthwatering Basler Herbstmesse food is a huge part of the fair experience. Diverse offerings at this festival range from comforting Swiss classics to international surprises.

What’s the best food to eat at the Basel Autumn Fair? Follow your nose, because walking the fair without surrendering to at least one aroma is nearly impossible.

Here are the must-try treats that define Basler Herbstmesse:

• Magenbrot – Literally “stomach bread” (once thought to aid digestion), this is Basel’s signature spiced gingerbread pastry; soft, sweet, and irresistible.
• Mässmögge – Colorful sugar candy filled with soft hazelnut praline. One of Basler Herbstmesse’s specialties.
• Gebrannte Mandeln – Not burnt almonds, as translation may suggest, but just crunchy sugar-coated roasted almonds. Sold warm in paper cones, these caramelized treats are a timeless Baseler Herbstmesse staple.
• Chäsbängel – A long bread stick filled or topped with melted Swiss cheese. This hearty, indulgent specialty has become a cult snack at Basler Herbstmesse, and the most famous place to try one is Chäsbängel Wirtschaft Zihlmann at the Petersplatz.
• Raclette & Fondue-to-go – Switzerland’s iconic cheeses, adapted for strolling through the fair.
• Langos, churros, crêpes – Global treats brought into the mix of the Swiss fair food.

If you’re looking for vegan food at Basler Herbstmesse, your best addresses are:

• Vegetario (Messeplatz) – Bright green stand serving filled flatbreads, garlic bread, and vegan burgers.
• Grill Wraps (Rosentalanlage) – Hearty vegan and vegetarian grill wraps, perfect for refueling between rides.
• Härdöpfelhüsli (Petersplatz) – Vegan potato pancakes with homemade sauces.
• Hofmann’s Risotto (Münsterplatz) – Gluten-free risotto made with premium Carnaroli rice.

3. Basler Herbstmesse attractions and rides

We’ve already teased the most popular fair attractions while exploring the locations of Basler Herbstmesse, at least how they were spread out in 2025. Keep in mind that attractions can shift squares from year to year, but the variety always mirrors the fair’s diverse crowd, from pint-sized tots discovering their first carousel to adrenaline junkies seeking a full-blown stomach workout.

Whether you crave the gentle beauty of the past, high-flying thrills, or something wonderfully weird, the fair has you covered.

Typical Basel Herbstmesse attractions include:

• Ferris wheel with city views – Slow, scenic, and perfect for selfies.
• Rollercoasters and spinning rides – For those who enjoy a side of adrenaline with their sugar rush.
• Freefall towers – Check your stomach at the gate.
• Haunted houses – Thrills, screams, and occasional jumpscares guaranteed.
• Family carousels – The classic, gentle spin that never goes out of style.
• Game booths, shooting galleries, and arcades – Skill, luck, and maybe a giant plush prize.

The true charm of the Basler Herbstmesse lies in its range and contrasts. You might ride a whimsical carousel under Münster cathedral spires one moment, then launch yourself into a spinning LED monster at Messeplatz the next.

Every year, the entertainment program brings a mix of beloved returning classics and new European rides debuting at Basel funfair, ensuring that even longtime visitors can discover fresh thrills alongside old favorites.

Need some thrill in the United States? Check out Pigeon Forge rides!

When is Basel Autumn Fair?

The Basler Herbstmesse kicks off every last Saturday of October, marked by the ceremonial ringing of the Mässglöggli bell at noon at Martinskirche, a charming tradition dating back to 1471. From that moment, Basel transforms into a citywide playground for two full weeks, or a total of 16 days.

Mark the next Basel Autumn Fair dates in your calendar: 24.10.-8.11.2026.

Basler Herbstmesse opening times

Normally, Herbstmesse opening times are 12 pm – 10 pm (Sun-Thu) and 12 pm – 11 pm (Fri-Sat).

The locations of Messeplatz and Rosentalanlage follow the same schedule, but they begin operating at 11 am.

Petersplatz location also opens at 11 am, but closes at 8 pm.

Basel Autumn Fair tickets

Admission to the fairgrounds of the Basel Autumn Fair is free, as it’s a public city festival. But if you want to hop on rides, play games, or indulge in the culinary delights, you’ll need to pay per attraction. Prices typically range between CHF 4 and CHF 12, depending on the ride.

A pro tip for ride-hungry visitors: traditionally, the rides are free for the first hour of the fair (or at least the first quarter of an hour). This creates buzzing queues in front of popular attractions, so plan strategically if you want to snag free rides at different venues.

The luckiest family, however, can win the Golden Jeton. Introduced in 2023, this coveted Basler Herbstmesse golden token secures unlimited free rides for four during the first weekend. An equivalent to golden tickets for Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, the social-media raffle winners are announced at the opening ceremony.

Otherwise, tickets are purchased directly at each ride or stall. Most establishments accept cash and cards, although some prefer the good old-fashioned cash.

Some of the best Basel attractions cost nothing. Check out free things to do in Basel!

How to Get Around the Herbstmesse

Since the Basler Herbstmesse takes place across multiple squares, walking is by far the best way to explore. Stroll from Barfüsserplatz to Münsterplatz, hop over to Messeplatz, and let the sights, sounds, and smells guide you – you’ll discover something new at every corner.

Public transport in Basel is excellent, with trams and buses connecting all major fair locations.

Parking around the Old Town is limited, so visitors are encouraged to come car-free.

Where to park at Basler Herbstmesse?

If driving is unavoidable, Basel has several central parking garages, with Parkhaus Messe being the most convenient for fair visitors. Open 24/7, it offers 1,200 spaces at a rate of CHF 2–3 per hour, depending on your arrival/departure time. From there, it’s just a short stroll to the bustling fun.

Where to stay for Basler Herbstmesse?

If you want to be in the center of the action and see amusement rides from above, the Hyperion Hotel Basel is located just at the Messeplatz. Check out prices on your platform of choice: Booking, Agoda, Trip, or Expedia.

For other accommodation options in Basel, see here.

Get a taste of the fair atmosphere in our Basel Herbstmesse YouTube video!

Why the Basler Herbstmesse Is Worth Visiting

As one of Europe’s oldest continually running funfairs, with an unbroken legacy of over five and a half centuries, the Basler Herbstmesse has preserved its original role as a gathering point for merchants, artisans, and citizens, while evolving into a modern festival of sights, sounds, and flavors.

Its setting in Basel’s Old Town squares, framed by cathedral spires and historic architecture, is unmatched. Even more unique, the fair sprawls across the city center, from medieval plazas to contemporary sites, seamlessly mixing vintage carousels with cutting-edge thrill rides. This combination of old-world charm and modern excitement gives the Herbstmesse a quality that feels both timeless and fresh.

Basler Herbstmesse is a celebration that bridges medieval heritage with contemporary entertainment

For locals, the fair signals the changing of the seasons; for visitors, it’s a chance to immerse themselves in Swiss tradition, from artisan crafts at Petersplatz to mouthwatering magenbrot and roasted almonds, and from gentle family carousels to adrenaline-pumping rides at Messeplatz.

Whether you’re a thrill-seeker, foodie, photographer, or culture lover, the Basler Herbstmesse is more than just a fair. It is a living cultural asset of Basel, a celebration that bridges medieval heritage with contemporary entertainment.

If you’re planning a trip to Switzerland in late October or early November, don’t miss this vivid, atmospheric, and historic celebration. Walk the squares, taste the treats, ride the attractions, and soak in the unique magic of Basel in autumn; it’s an experience you’ll want to relive year after year.

Would you like to visit Basler Herbstmesse, Basel’s autumn fair?
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In the order of appearance, the authors of the photographs in this article are as follows: 

Night panorama of Basel (cover image) - Michael Kuhn kuhnmi, licensed under CC BY 2.0
Bellevue Ferris wheel - PiConsti, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
Black-and-white photographs from the 1970s - Willy Pragher, licensed under CC BY 3.0
Chain carousel lights - PiConsti, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
Part of Ferris wheel and cathedral - Chieh 捷, licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
Drop tower in Messe hole - Andreas Schwarzkopf, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0
Hallenmesse and church service at Autoscooter - Basler Herbstmesse official media
Hip Hop - Ivan Kralj
Resslirytti carousel - Rolf Weber @roweb, licensed under CC0 1.0
Cotton candy girl - Georg Holderied polapix, licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
Rollercoaster - Roland Zumbühl Picswiss, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0
Minster and Ferris wheel - vivalatinoamerica, licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
Resslirytti carousel (pin image) - Simon Kessler, Unsplash 

The post Basler Herbstmesse: Your Ultimate Guide to Switzerland’s Oldest Autumn Fair appeared first on Pipeaway.