Pudding that tastes like a Grandma

Monday was special not because it was my birthday, or because I saw both Petra and the Dead sea, but because I discovered a fourth thing in this world that I will not eat under any circumstances.

I had breakfast with my group, and got to know them a little better. We have me, two french canadians Isabel and Marie Antoinette, A Finnish by way of Belgium lady named (I think it's spelled) Pirko, Brett from England, Joel from Australia, Suvi and Laurie from NYC, Helen from England, Mother and Daugter Sharon and Rachel from Vancouver, Kathryn from Australia and George & Anabella, the cutest couple from Portugal.

After a visit to a mosaic factory, we went to Mt Nebo, where Moses climbed up after 40 years in the desert, and died. The views (above) were amazing.

After this we went to the Dead sea - which I have been looking forward to for MONTHS!! The dead sea is 400 meters below sea level, and oxygen levels are 8% higher than normal. The water is 33% salt, so you float like a cork.


The fresh water pool:

The dead sea beach:

It is the strangest sensation, floating in the dead sea. It is IMPOSSIBLE to sink. You can't even put your legs down in the water for very long. You can lay back in the water, reading a book, not supported by anything! It was truly amazing and just as fun as I imagined it would be.

After this, for a few Jordanian dinars, we could cover ourselves in mud!

After the sea, I went in the pool, which was just a normal pool. It felt very hard to float, like I was made of lead.

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Then it was time for a buffet lunch! The lunch part was OK.. then there was the dessert platter. Rachel had tasted the white gelatin dessert and made a face. I went up to get an assortment of desserts:

Sometimes my friends like to laugh at me (opposed to with me) for the reason that I will eat ANYTHING, no matter what it is. Something gross in the vending machine? Sara will try it! drink condiments for $80? Sara will! Dare me to eat a candy bar with mustard on it for $5-$10? My pleasure!

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Before today, there were only three things I could never eat.

1. Circus peanuts

2. Canned peas

3. Salmon (except lox)

And now we have #4!

4. The white gelatin dessert at the Dead sea buffet.

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Gourmet magaine (sadly, RIP Gourmet magazine!) used to have a "reader request" column. You could write in to describe something delicious you had on your travels, and they would hunt down the recipe for you. Let's write Gourmet, shall we?

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Dear Gourmet - while I was travelling to the Dead Sea, I had the most amazing dessert! It was white, gelationous and tasted exactly like a Grandma smells. It had an unusual texture as well. My taste buds were singing! I will never forget this dessert, and if you could find the recipe, it would be wonderful!! Sara, Chicago.

Dear Sara,

You are in luck! We found it for you!

Dead sea style grandma-scented gelatin

2 packages plain gelatin

1 cup cottage cheese (to make it white and lumpy)

1 cup sugar (to make it sickeningly sweet)

30-40 vigorous sprays of the cheapest, sweetest perfume you can buy at Walgreens or CVS

Mix together, chill, invert

spray a decorative lattice design with aeresol whipped crem

accent with drops of red food coloring for a festive look.

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Actually I have had some amazing desserts here. The pastries (that remind me a little of baklava, or baklava with custard) are just incredible. But this dessert actually made me scream when I put it in my mouth because it was so gross. It tasted just like perfume!

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After all the dead sea fun, we climbed Kerak castle, and arrived in Wadi Musa, the town next to Petra. That night, most of us took a candle-lit tour/walk to the treasury. I will put pictures of Petra by day in the next entry (my camera does not take good night pics), plus - nothing would do this justice. It was magical, breathtaking. You walk through walls of red rock and there were luminaries every 10 feet or so. After you arrive through a narrow entry, you see Petra. We all sat down in rows while some Bedouins played traditional music for us, and made us mint tea, all with candle-light. Suvi and Laurie sang happy birthday to me and I blew out one of the luminaries. Seeing Petra at night was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. Just beautiful. It was a wonderful birthday. I had one beer at the irish bar because it was closing, and slept better than I have since I got here.

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Below - road between Kerak castle and Wadi Musa:

repeat customer

Really I have nothing important to say about Sunday. I lazed around my nice hotel room until the last possible moment, then I left my bags there while I made one last visit to the Hashem restaurant. I saw my waiter and gave him the "I'm baaack!" smile. He remembered my entire order from yesterday. "Hummus, bread, coke and falafel?" Then an old man that I have never seen before came up to me, smiled, pointed at me and said "I remember you!!". It actually looked like the same cast of characters as yesterday. The fact that they remembered me, remembered my order and weren't annoyed to see me return with all of my confusing questions completely warmed my heart.

another view of the Hashem restaurant:

you can actually see the same waiters in the photo today as yesterday. The guy walking in the door to the right was the old man. After that, I returned to Habibah, the delicious pastry place.

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I had to go up to the north side of town for my night before group meeting. I stayed up there too because that's where everyone else was staying, and it was super cheap. I even had my own little balcony:

This new hotel (which was super gross compared to the Hisham hotel) was one block away from the largest mosque in Amman. You know what that means!

It means that at 4:45 AM, I am going to be woken up by this:

And being one block away from the King Abdullah mosque, it was exactly as loud as I had imagined it would be. But I am getting much better at going back to sleep. And it does add some local flavor to my morning!

I had an hour to kill and my alarm clock is on its last legs. So I walked down Al Nubulsi street to maybe look for a shop that could have one. I saw a watch shop that was closed, with a connecting convenience store and adjoining travel agency. I bought some water and asked the man if he also owned the watch store and how I might find an alarm clock. Of couse I did not learn "alarm clock" at the discovery center, so I personified an alarm clock by pretending to sleep on my folded hands, then screeching "beep-beep-beepbeepbeep!!!" He knew exactly what I was looking for. He found me an alarm clock that was gigantic. It weighed a ton and was just too big. So I asked about a watch. Just then, a fistfight spilled out of the travel agency. I told the man I'd be back and walked down the street so that the men could cool off. I returned, and they were still fighting near the convenience store. The man (who had a 8 year old son with him working in the store) had me come into the travel agency to get another key to the watch store. This was all getting too confusing so I almost left, but he said he might have a smaller clock. Ok, whatever. He shut the door so that the arguing men wouldn't bother us, then he asked me where I was from and if I had a husband or boyfriend. Yes! is always the answer to that one. He tried to get me to go into a back room of the travel agency. I refused to go in the room with him. My bullshit meter was way up and it was time to leave. The man shook my hand goodbye and did not want to let my hand go, and he said "I kiss you. I kiss you now". HA! Hell no. I was smart enough to stay by the door at all times. I shouldn't have even shaken his hand. No more handshakes alone in a travel agency with a strange man, even if his 8 year old son is right next door. "he's climbin' in yo window, he's snatchin' yo people up!"

I met with my group, who all seemed very nice and for the most part up for a good time, then we all went our separate ways before our first day tomorrow. I took a taxi down to a different neighborhood for dinner. It was really quiet and I mostly talked to one of the employees of the restaurant, named Sultan. He was a sweet, very young looking 26 year old. We talked about the world cup, food, education, customers that come in the restaurant. After that, I had a taxi drive that used the meter and tried to refuse money when I over-tipped him.

I am a female Borat

Every time I travel, I can't help feeling a little bit like Borat. Dressed just a little bit different, asking too many questions... combined with the fact that I am not shy, and thanks to 12 some years of being a media buyer, if you give me an inch I will take a mile. Amman I come to make nice with you!! Saturday I took the "walking tour" of Amman, plus my own walking tour. Wearing my cargo pants, chicago marathon tshirt and flip flops, stopping to look at a map every 15 minutes, I walked a good 7 miles yesterday I think. I went from my posh neighborhood to the second circle, to the first circle - going all the way to the more traditional center of town. Amman's streets have no rhyme or reason. They aren't straight and the city is very hilly so a street that might look close on a map is actually up the side of a cliff through an alley. Usually I try to NEVER pull out a map in public, but after a few times I noticed that nobody was paying attention. It all felt very very safe.

The first circle is really congested. I went to a place that is recommended for hummus called Hashem, which is in an alleyway. Men walk around with baskets of falafel, and you can order either hummus of fuul (sp?) which is some type of bean puree. I got the hummus (above) and they brought pita with a basket of mint. It was by far the best hummus and falafel I have ever had. Just phenomenal!! The bad news is, it may have ruined trader joe's hummus for me forever, which is usually the only grocery store hummus I will eat. Salam restaurant in Chicago comes close, but this was just on another level of tastiness and lightness. Not a lot of women in this restaurant, but nobody even looked at me funny. I was so happy. The view from my table:

A main street in the first circle:

After the hummus, I stopped at the pastry shop. The walking tour takes you around through different markets of gold shops, cell phone covers, kohl for the eyes, socks, colanders, spoons, curtains, everything random and nothing I wanted to buy. Except maybe this book:

Surprisingly, I was able to make use of my discovery center arabic class. I had left my pen at home, and I needed one. One day our teacher made us all practice saying "is this a pen? no, it's a book. Is this a table? No, it's a pen" over and over and over and over and over.. I remembered the word for pen! But I have no idea how to say "do you have a pen", just "is this a pen?" So I went into a store that looked like it might have pens and I said "Hathi Qualam??!" and the guy knew what I was saying. Even though I marched into his store and said "Is this a pen?" he handed me a pack of three pens and smiled. It was like a miracle. I was so proud of myself! Now for the rest of the time I'm here, if I need another pen, a table or a book, I can buy one. But if I need to buy anything else at all, no guarantees.

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I walked past another mosque, up hills (where everything is made out of the same smooth and slippery limestone), down hills, through crowds, through alleys until I was so exhausted and far away that I took a taxi home.

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One thing that is a little unsettling to me are the young guys in camoflage and rifles. Before you start worrying, this really isn't uncommon outside of the US and Europe. In Guatemala I saw this every day. They are usually just guarding some building, or have some sort of military job. But it makes my heart race a little bit everytime I have to walk past one of them. I'm all for my friends and family up in Michigan killing turkeys and deer - my feeling about guns is that I never want to see them, I don't want them in the city limits of Chicago, but I'll gladly eat whatever you kill with one. (well, maybe not deer..) But I don't really like seeing them when I walk down the street. I can't help the reaction in my gut.

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Last night after walking all over the place, I went to the fancy asian place next door to my hotel for some teriyaki and dumplings. Then I had a lychee martini! I am enjoying solo time because I know it is ending very soon. I read the book I've been saving for months - David Rakoff's Fraud, and had a nice little evening in a cozy bar. The book made me laugh out loud several times. I really like my neighborhood here. Amman has everything - in some places women are completely covered except for the eyes, and in this neighborhood the young and hip of Amman come to drink martinis to a hotel costes soundtrack.

Today I am going back to the hummus place. It is completely inconveniently located and I am going to have to take a taxi. One thing I've learned over the years of travelling is that if you like a place - GO BACK. Sometimes I go back to places again and again. In Paris, Kathy and I had a place we went to at least 4 times for an onion tart I was obsessed with. In Panama I had a chicken stew place. In New York, there is Joe's Shanghai. I never think "I'm so glad I went to so many restaurants!" as much as "man what I wouldn't do to go back to that chicken stew place.."
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Here is my hotel outdoor patio:

When I came home last night to the Hisham Hotel, I had another Borat moment. There are some Olan Mills-style family portraits hanging on the lobby wall and what look to be family vacation photos, framed. "Is that Hisham?" I asked, just curiously asking about the hotel owner.

"No! That is the king of Jordan!!"

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Oh.. haha.. well, I didn't recognize him. Then I noticed of course it is Queen Rania in the photo. The whole photo studio-style portrait threw me off. Then I did get the story about Hisham. He owned the hotel for 20 years, then sold it to two Iraqis and two Jordanians. They get a lot of repeat customers from the French and US embassies. It really is a nice place and very reasonably priced. The hotel owner told me sadly that Hisham died a few years ago. He seemed fond of him. Hisham would be happy that I like his hotel very much.

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I may not be able to write much after today - until November 29. I'm not sure what the internet situation will be like. I will be with my group and we are going to the dead sea and out in the desert. I will catch up when I get to Egypt for sure, and many times when I am in Dabab. (I might be able to sooner, at Petra). If you are reading, comment so that I know.

As Salaamu, Amman!

Thursday afternoon I worked like crazy until 3PM, then raced home to get my backpack. I've been a little grouchy this week - so I am apologizing now, coworkers and salespeople.. I felt really bad leaving so much work - but not bad enough to cancel my vacation. It will be there for me when I get back.

One thing that has made me laugh over the past several weeks is the complete panic that everyone is in about the new TSA x-ray scanners. You have the choice of (thanks to new technology) being seen pretty much naked under your clothes, or the choice of getting a creepy extreme "pat-down". Every single morning on the news, there was a story of people getting molested at the airport and completely outraged at the x-ray machines. I don't know why, but it makes me laugh. I even made fun of it on my facebook status. Sara can't wait to give the TSA scanners a cheap thrill at the airport tomorrow! One friend commented that last week he could have gotten a prostate exam, since they were already down there with plastic gloves. Another friend flew to Denver on the same day I did - and got BOTH the pat-down and the x-ray. I started giggling like the immature person I am as soon as I got to security. But I guess the TSA just "is not that into me". I got neither an x-ray or a physical inspection. I was just waved through, past an indian grandma in a sari getting what appeared to be a full groping. I am actually kind of insulted. It was so anti-climactic. As a person looking a big birthday in the face, I totally took it the wrong way. What does that indian grandma have that I don't?!

Turkish airlines really impressed me with the random on-demand entertainment. I read an entire book, then watched the 1980 movie Fame! Then, 4 episodes of Modern Family and several episodes of How I met your mother. Nice assortment, Turkish airlines! When you are faced with a 10 hour flight, the most exciting thing that happens is when dinner comes. It totally breaks up the time, and up there in the thin air and extreme boredom, it actually tastes pretty good. I ate everything but the garnish.

Yeah, that's the girl you know and love!

After an absolutely beautiful sunrise, we landed in Istanbul where I contemplated buying this:

I almost got an airport massage, but it was too expensive so I got some wierd pistachio ice cream instead. The guy who scooped the ice cream pretended to hand it to me three times, snatching it back with a crazy face and laughing at me each time I tried to grab it. 15 hours ago when I was all stressed out, I would have wanted to punch him in the face. But I was in a loopy mood, so it just made me laugh along with him. Oh, Istanbul airport, you are more fun than a barrel of monkeys!

On the flight from Istanbul to Amman, I chatted with a nice Norweigen couple, and read some more. The guy from my hotel was holding my name on a sign when I arrived, and we listened to Jordanian music on the way back into the city. I always love foreign pop music. This type sounds a lot like Greek music, minus the bouzouki and plus the more gutteral arabic language. It's a little bit dramatic, but very dancey. Oh habiiibiiii!!! Habiiibiii! Lots of angst about Habbibi. Habbibi means dear, beloved, honey - something like that. I liked the one song that sounded like a snake charmer to a disco beat.

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I checked into my hotel where I have an awesome room, and I picked it for the lovely outdoor restaurant/garden. It's in a really nice neighborhood near the third circle. The man who checked me in made very sure that I knew I had a NICE SHOWER in my room. Twice he told me I have a NICE SHOWER. Hmmm... was that a hint?

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I had one beer outside at 11PM, studied the map, wrote a little bit, then SHOWERED and went to bed. I was having a terrible nightmare when I woke up at 4:45AM. I leapt out of bed, heart pounding, and turned on all the lights. What was I dreaming about and why was there still a spooky man's voice singing through my window? I was so scared and confused. I had completely forgotten about the muslim call to prayer. Kathy and I heard this in east Africa. Starting early in the morning, and a couple times a day, there is singing and praying over loudspeakers. It's actually very beautiful to hear. But at 4:45, the man's voice made its way into my dream and gave me the scariest nightmare I have had in the longest time. I slept for another few hours, then ate the free breakfast!

Now I'm just wandering towards the heart of downtown, where I am going to take the Lonely Planet-suggested walking tour, that stops near some good kebab and dessert shops. I love middle eastern food and pastries. There is a place in Chicago, next to the Kedzie brown line station called nazareth sweets, that sells delicious baklava-type things soaked in honey and rose water. It feels really safe here walking around. Nobody has hassled me. Amman is a nice city. The call to prayer happened again when I was walking around, but I never actually see anybody face mecca or pray or anything. Nobody actually closes down shop to do this. At least not where I am. I wonder who does it and how many people do it? Maybe just in their homes? I have no idea.

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I did take 5 classes of Arabic at the discovery center, so I still can't read anything (including the sign below) but I know a few words, and I can recognize the letters. A lot of signs start with the alif, then lam character - which spells "al", which means something like "the". I keep seeing that. It's a lovely language written out:

Time to find some hummus and a kebab. I am at a beautiful place I read about in the New York times - it's called books@cafe and has a lovely rooftop garden overlooking the city, with a bookstore downstairs.

November and December 2010

Tulum

I had two nights left (not counting my last night in Playa del Carmen for the sake of catching my flight home), and I thought about going to an eco lodge, going to the biosphere, staying in Vallodolid longer or going back to Tulum. I really kind of wanted to stay in the interior, but in Late Feburary, when I am waiting for the brown line train on a wind-whipped platform and the most mexican thing about my day will be the lean cuisine chicken enchiladas suizas at 12:07PM, I don´t want to think ¨I really should have spent some more time on that beach in Tulum¨.
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I was worried about not finding a place to stay, this being extremely high season, christmas week and all. I had no reason to worry. I found a place to stay right away. Here is my casita at the Luna Maya:

I had to move next door the next night, but there were places to be found. Tulum is a little pricey, but worth it.

I missed happy hour and had my Drin after 5PM. But I bought it from the grocery store and had it on my porch so it was cheap anyhow, suckas!

I took a walk along the beach and through the woods:

and found a hippie sweat lodge!

I also went to see the famous Mayan ruin, Tulum. I enjoyed Uxmel more because there were less annoying people around, but these ruins were very impressive, despite the Cancun daytrippers with bad cornrows of braids:

When I got back to the beach, I discovered another Mayan ruin. It´s amazing!!

Not much to do in Tulum. It was perfect to be alone there. No nightlife to be found. Actually I´m not going to lie and say the food was good, because it was not. I could have been anywhere. I had above average wood fired pizza for dinner on the beach at a cute place, but it wasn´t like the culinary experiences I had been having in Merida and Valladolid. But really, it´s OK.

The view from my second casita room is below. After the sun went down, I laid on a beach chair and looked at the stars and listened to the waves for a good half hour. It was nice.

Das German youth hostel in Valladolid

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed Merida. I could almost live there. Sometimes you just click with a town for no real reason. If you asked me why, I could not rattle off too many reasons. There is a lot of public art and I liked the vibe. It does actually have a small American retirement or ex-pat community. I really liked being ignored and not watched as I walked down the street or beckoned into every shop. People didnt start speaking to me in english as soon as I sat down someplace. I could butcher my bad spanish and nobody minded. For my final night, I went back to the town square to watch more dancing in the closed off street. I am a little bit of a Christmas grump at home but I enjoy Christmas in Latin America. I loved it in Guatemala, Brazil and I love it here in Mexico. People aren´t stressing about shopping or snow, they just eat and dance.
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Alas, it was time to move on. I only had a week to travel and I couldn´t be the village idiot wandering around Merida forever. Valladolid is another sorbet-colored town (pic above). It is famous for the area cenotes, which are wierd caves and underground pools scattered around the yucatan. I took a two hour bus, going through many small towns. They were typical modest little rough-around-the edges towns you would see anywhere in Asia or Latin America, but many of them were very clean. There was no trash. The houses had peeling paint but someone had cared enough to plant some flowers and mend the fence. I like the way the people dressed in the little towns - it was almost like they had a dress code. They wore the traditional clothes I saw for sale in Playa del Carmen and Merida - the men wear the button-down shirt with the two little striped designs down the front (guyabera?), and the women wear the white dress with the flowers emboridered around the yoke of the neck and on the hem. They have specific names, but I forget what the shirt and dress are called. After many bus rides over the years, I have noticed that all small towns must have the following things:

• skinny brown mutt dogs that look dead when they are sleeping in the sun, or are pregnant and have 25 nipples.
• an auto repair shop with an open garage door that is a complete mess with a fat man smoking inside
• Rosa´s Cocina restaurant, or some variation
• A store with a large display of plastic shoes
• a cinder block school with faded pastel-colored paint
• an inglesia, of course
• the corner bar with one window

and in this area, a store for pinatas and balloons. I saw a disproportionate number of pinatas y globos shops in Merida and Valladolid. They just love balloons. In Merida, there were people selling balloons from huge bundles of maybe 100 balloons at once. If you spontaneously needed a balloon, that would never be a problem here.
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In Valladolid, I checked into the hostel to save some money. Germans and Dutch people love Valladolid, I found. Practically everyone in the hostel was from northen Europe. The guy who checked me in even pronounced my last name the traditional German way - it sounds kind of like Share-ieh-mecccch. Hans and Dieter (well, in my mind that is what their names were) lounged around on the couch and chatted away. It was also the first youth hostel I have ever stayed in where I may have been on the younger end of the average age. I had my own room, and my next door neighbors were maybe in their early 50s. Everyone looked to be between 30 and 60. It was interesting.
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I wandered out to get some lunch. I would hate to see the kitchen, but I had some delicious panuchos here:

Panuchos are just flat, fried tacos with refried beans in between two layers of fried tortillas, with a topping (like chicken and cabbage) on top. Delicious.

I walked over to the closest Ceynote in town:

There is even a special breed of eyeless black fish that live in the ceynotes. People go swimming in here. But nobody else was swimming, and the algae and the the thought of eyeless black fish scared me off. (I mean, wouldnt eyeless fish scare YOU off?) In case you didn´t know you were in a cave, they had the international sign for you are entering a cave:

and the virgin of guadeloupe had a shrine in the cave as well:

Unfortunately, the town square was under construction for renovation. It is going to be lovely when they finish it. Here is the church:

the front of my hostel room:

For dinner I had conchinitas pibil again. These were the best ones yet. They gave me a reasonable portion (not like that pile of pork I showed you the other day), and it was amazingly good. The masa tortillas tasted like they were made 5 minutes ago. There was a beautiful atmosphere in the restaurant, too. A lit up fountain and candles. I tried to stretch my meal as long as I could. I caught myself making faces and looking at my fork a little too suggestively after I was tasting the food and I had to stop that immediately. I would make fun of someone else doing that. Anyhow, conchinita pibil - yeah, very good in Valladolid.

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At night, in the Plaza right outside the hostel was a mysterious talent show going on. The talent was bad. I bought a couple of cans of beer at the convenience store, sat down, watched and tried to figure out what people were saying and singing. Perfect night out!

Estoy LLENA!

After being a little partied-out in Playa del Carmen, I decided to be slothful in Merida. And after climbing up that damn ruin yesterday, I thought I´d just wander around town, eating as much as I wanted for 24 hours and write about it. Aren´t you shocked that I would do such a thing?

OK, I´m not just cramming it all in, I´m learning many things here. I´ve been a big fan of Rick Bayless for years and my dream is to feel like I am filming an episode of "one plate at a time". First of all, I can´t find a chile relleno to save my life. But we are in the Yucatan, and we have PIBIL!!




This is either pork or chicken, cooked in a banana leaf underground with spices. I´m not sure if they really dig a hole in the ground, or if that is an exaggeration. Either way - the pollo pibil I had after the ruin yesterday and my pork pibil for dinner (pictured above and below) - was delicioso! They give you tortillas, to make little tacos, see? And purple pickled onions to sprinkle on top.

Yes, I finished that big pile. And I loved every minute of it. With 2 beers, this came to less than $15 with tip. They aren´t crazy about cheese here. But that´s OK. the food is so tasty that I don´t miss it. No queso tamales to be found.

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The next morning, I ate a tamale, which I forgot to take a picture of. There is some sort of celebration going on, and everyone is selling food in the streets and people really eat spicy meats for breakfast. I thought maybe only a few people did - but nope, after walking around to the market and back, I noticed everyone did. As a person who has been known to have leftover thai food or pizza for breakfast, I had a chicken tamale. And then I had ANOTHER ONE. And what´s that I see? Churros?! well, don´t mind if I do!!!

This was all before 10AM. This is a typical food stand. Believe it or not, I did not have room for the barbacoa...

but don´t think I didn´t consider it....

Here´s a guy roasting some onions to put on those pieces of meat:

They have conchia pibil, the regional specialty and last night´s dinner!

I went thought the entire market, and watched people buy their groceries. As in most countries, people here want to see their meat up close and talk to the butcher first. Nothing is frozen, it´s all just hanging up by hooks.

You would think all that raw meat might kill my appetite. Well, think again. It´s time for CORN ICE CREAM and a MERANGE! woo woo!

The end.

When I get home, I am going on a huge diet.