Israel part 2: The Dead Sea, Eilat, and Petra

If you haven't seen it yet, part 1 of the Israel blog is here.

After Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, next on the agenda was the Dead Sea. One of my main goals of all time was to float in the Dead Sea.  It just looks so cool when people float there, reading magazines and drinking mai tais as if they were on a floaty mattress...but with no mattress!  Luckily I wasn't the only one with this dream.  To get the Dead Sea, we drove East from Jerusalem. A few of the others in the group had been to Israel before and had some general idea of what we were doing and where we were going.  When we were driving, all I had to do was follow the car in front of me (or sleep when Dominika drove).  If not for the camels, goats, and sheep roaming the barren desert hillsides, and the random patches of perfectly placed palm trees, everything looked like we were on Mars (cuz I've been to Mars and I know what the highways are like there).  The air smelled like I had a salt lick shoved up my nose. It was nice.

 

Camels on the side of the road (so you know it's not Mars)

On the way, we were stopped at a few checkpoints where soldiers with big machine guns made us roll down the windows to racially profile us. This wasn't part of my dream, but it was a necessary compromise. We passed these checkpoints without any problems, but it was always a bit stressful when we approached, as we all had to sit up straight in our seats, shut off the walkie talkies (our communication between cars), turn Bruno Mars down on the radio, remove our sunglasses, and put on our best smiley faces.

We stopped at the Ahava factory for some girly cosmetics made from Dead Sea water (water from the Dead Sea, not sea water that is dead...although I guess sea water is not alive, so in fact it IS dead...). Apparently it makes your face look better, as long as you aren't too ugly.  At 422 meters below sea level, the Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth, and the magic of the salt can make your face pretty.  By the way, the Dead Sea is not really a sea at all (otherwise it would be 0 meters below sea level, you know?).

Looking for the beach, we found some where you had to pay, but luckily came across a free rocky beach near En Gedi, and another one further south along a hotel and shopping area (near Oasis hotel if you're looking for it). This was a really nice area with changing rooms, strong showers and beautiful landscape. Igors and I managed a mud bath before jumping in, while Domi managed a half bath. I'm not going to tell you, so you'll have to imagine who rubbed mud on whom.  The fact the sun comes from behind the mountains on the Israel side of the sea means that the afternoon sun in the Winter is short lived. We lost it around 3pm. Just as I dreamed, the water was very floaty, but also bitter tasting, oily, and generally dangerous to get in your eyes or mouth (so not very nice). But it was awesome to float; we couldn't sink even if we wanted to.

 

Gosia, Renata, and Igors floating on the Dead Sea

 

Dead Sea mud bathers

Also in the area is Masada (David's 2000 year old fortress on the top of a mountain) and the En Gedi Kibbutz and botanical gardens.  It was interesting to see the plush gardens and man-made forests in the middle of the barren desert. The kibbutz is an interesting idea - a communal community (like a department of redundancy department) where people work in exchange for living expenses, mostly in agriculture. It seemed that there were a lot of younger people speaking English there, so maybe people go to Israel to work in a place like this to get in touch with their Jewish roots. We hiked around the nature reserve, and met some interesting animals like hyrex and ibex.  Israel likes animals that end with "ex".  Luckily there was no T-Rex. 

 

Going up to Masada - the squares are where the Romans camped out before their seige of the fortress

 

Like the Grand Canyon!

We slept in the town of Arad, where we met Jenia and Ilona. Jenia is the sister of Leonid, a guy I met in a hostel in Barcelona a couple years ago. He wasn't able to meet up, but introduced us to his sister, whom we met in a bar called Muza, that reminded me of a Chili's or something (it's the hotspot in Arad; even the hotel clerk told us to go there).  One thing about Israel is that everyone goes to the army, including the women. It was interesting to talk to 2 young, pretty girls who also serve in the military, and could probably kick my ass. 

Our final city was Eilat, at the southern tip of Israel, where everyone just wanted to relax and go to the beach. It was in the 70s, so this wasn't a bad idea. But I decided to go on a day trip to Petra, in Jordan. After some pleading, trying to get someone to come with me, I realized there was no hope, so I decided to go by myself.  Our landlady helped me set up the tour, and the guy came to pick me up in the morning.  It was very pleasant weather, blue skies, a perfect day for sightseeing. I paid $265, which actually seemed like a good deal considering the entry fee to go in Petra costs about half that, plus you'd have to pay the border crossing fee ($60) and for transportation and food. I rode on a bus with a Russian group and nobody spoke with me, except one guy who said one word: "Vietnam?". He seemed nice at least.  The border was pretty disorganized and slow, taking over an hour to get through, even though most of that time was sitting around and waiting. While we were waiting, it gave me some time to talk to our guide.  He was only 22 years old, but was pretty knowledgeable and engaging. He was bragging about girls he picks up on the tours, said "what the fuck" a lot, and told me how two 60 year old lesbians tried to pay him $700 to spend the night with them. Not sure how that relates to a tour of Petra, but whatever.

The total drive to Petra took around 3 hours, stopping for souvenirs and snacks on the way. At one of the stops, all of the tour bus drivers were sitting around smoking sheesha together. I guess it wasn't included in the tour package, because none of them offered to share.  As we approached Petra, I noticed that the area around it had little towns in the hills, with majestic views of the rocks and canyons in the valley. There were very modest homes, earthy colors, shades of yellow and brown to blend into the hills.  I was having a nice time sightseeing just on the ride there, and we hadn't even been to Petra yet.

So what is Petra anyway? If you've seen Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, you may recognize the high rock walls and the Treasury building. Here's a clip from the movie, and my clip trying to re-enact it.  I should have brought some coconuts to make the sound of horses walking. 

Me going into petra:
Indiana Jones going into petra

Petra is over 2000 years old, made famous by the buildings carved into the rocks and the advanced water system that controlled and stored water effectively for this desert town.  It's even been called one of the top places to see before you die by a lot of publications, and I'd have to agree.

 

The water system runs along the side of the road

 

Peek-a-boo

 

The Treasury

Our playboy guide told us that about 30 years ago the local Bedouins lived in the caves within the city. But after it became a UNESCO site (bringing in lots of cash), the Bedouins agreed to move out, in exchange for exclusive "merchandising rights". They are all over the city selling anything you can think of: magnets, cups, jewelry, scarves, etc. Men, women, even 5 year old kids, walk around or sit on the paths trying to take your money sell you something.  They also sit at the front gate, offering "free" horse rides.  Except the horse rides aren't free because they don't leave you alone until you give them a $5 tip. Generally, their pushy-ness made them unpleasant to me, and I saw a couple of them kick their horses, which made me dislike those two even more.  However I was entertained by their hair and make up...it reminded me of the Pirates of the Caribbean.

 

Caves everywhere in the rocks

The city starts with an entry path through the high rocks, then a series of caves where people used to live. There were many things carved into the rock walls; columns, obelisks, tombs, statues, etc. Since I had no friends to take pictures of me, I made friends with a couple other guys and we took pictures of each other. Of course the most important thing for me was to ride a camel.  I negotiated a camel ride for 26 shekels (they accepted Israel money) which is all I had in my pocket.  Normally they ask for 5 Jordanian Dinar or 7 USD.

 

I'm glad the guy who took this picture didn't steal my camera...I don't think I could have chased him

 

Petra is a really cool place!

On the way home we had a nice lunch buffet...chicken and lamb stews, many salads, hummus, eggplant, couscous, and a lentil soup of which I had 3 bowls. I love lentil soup. This paragraph really adds no value to the description of Petra, but I wanted you to know because the soup was good!

At the border going back into Israel I somehow accidentally snuck past 2 Jordanian check points.  Armed guards had to chase after me, yelling at me with their guns (yelling with their mouths, but carrying their guns). That didn't make me nervous at all. Actually, I almost peed my pants. How did they let me past the checkpoints?  After they let me go, I got to the Israel side of the border, where three people asked a lot of questions, but in a very polite way (no chasing me with guns).  One guy at the passport control even wrote down the website "airbnb.com" when I told him how we booked our accommodation, because he never heard about renting apartments that way. I'm sure they were all strategic questions, and he didn't really care about airbnb, but he was friendly about it so it made it sound like he was interested, not interrogating me.

Back in Eilat, we continued our nightly routine of pita and hummus and games of Uno.  On our last night we couldn't get any food because everything was closed for Shabbat (from Friday night til Saturday night). I still can't get used to the random holidays in Poland where the shops are closed...I don't know how I would survive with everything closed for Shabbat every week. I am used to Fred Meyer and Target being open every day no matter what. 

On our last day we snorkelled in the Red Sea (which actually IS a sea!), near the coral reef beach. It was the 4th "sea" we swam in during the trip. It was nice because they created a path for snorkellers along the reef, so it was easy to follow without getting eaten by sharks. Relaxing in 80 degrees, getting a bit tanned, we enjoyed our last day before going home to snow and frozenness.

 

Snorkeling the Red Sea

 

Enjoying a last bit of sun 

Our flight home was Sunday morning at 6 am, so we hung out in Jerusalem for a bit of nightlife (by nightlife I mean that the others went to some bars, while I slept in the car), and got to airport at 3. The airport was packed at 3 am, reminding me of rush hour at O'hare. The fact we didn't really sleep, plus the crowds and the super strict security made for a bit of a headache. The security asked lots of questions; taking us separately to interview us about our group, where we're from, what we do, how we know each other, etc, then they met with each other to make sure the stories matched. They scanned our stuff and asked us about what was in our bags, then sent us to a third checkpoint where we had to explain more. There was more than 20 minutes of scanning and questioning before we even got to the flight check-in desk. I can't complain because they do it for our own safety, but this was more intense than anything I've seen.  I guess they are used to it, because even with the crowd and all the checks, it only took us an hour to get through everything. Funny thing is that even with all that checking, they didn't find a bottle of coke Irina had in her carry-on bag. I guess they are focused on more important things, rather than dangerous caffeinated beverages, like the rest of the world looks for.

Anyway, I can't say enough about how great of a trip this was.  It was a great group of friends, old and new, and a wonderful mix of history, sightseeing, and relaxation.  8 days in Israel was a good amount, and if you ever need any tips or ideas, just let me know.  

Jumping for another great trip

If you're interested in my full albums, here they are: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. 

The time I was almost in a Super Bowl commercial, but not really

Did you happen to catch the Super Bowl last night, with the surprise power outage and all the new commercials?  They're always a lot of fun to watch, but one that you didn't see was one that I was hoping you would. 

A few months ago a friend from Poland wrote a message to me saying "My brother needs your help with a commercial he is making for the Super Bowl.  Are you interested?".   I didn't even know what that meant because I am not a producer, director, or actor, and maybe their definition of Super Bowl was something different than mine.  I mean, maybe they're advertising for a company that makes nice ceramic cereal bowls or something. After clarifying they were indeed talking about "that American football thing", I figured that since I am American, they wanted some feedback from me on how their idea for a commercial would compare to other Super Bowl commercials I've seen.  So, thinking I might be able to help, I said yes.

A lot of people say that the Super Bowl is watched more for the commercials than for the game itself.  People who have never paid attention to a single football game in their lives, who don't know a single player, or who don't even know which sport the Super Bowl is for, will still watch it for the commercials.  Big companies will spend millions of dollars to premier their new, clever, memorable 30 second sales pitch because they know 100 million people around the world will be watching.  At SB parties I've attended in the past, it seemed that during the game people were talking, drinking, eating, going to the bathroom, taking smoke breaks, and generally not paying attention to the game, but when the commercials came on, people excitedly motioned others to "SHHHHHH!" so that they could hear the next great Beer, Deodorant, or Taco Bell commercial.  For the past few years, Doritos has taken this commercial craze to another level by getting the fans to create commercials for them, and having a competition where the winning commercial gets shown to the world during the game.

This is where Maciej and his friends come in.  They are part-time commercial producers/directors/filmers/enthusiasts and do this sort of thing as a hobby.  But it's no handycam-in-their-parent's-basement production.  They have all kinds of equipment, lights, cameras, (action), special effects, and even rented studio space.  So if they're so experienced with this, why do they need me?  Well, because I am American.  And that's all. 

Maciej told me to bring a while t-shirt and that he'd pick me up in Old Town to take me to where they were filming.  It was our first time meeting, but since he is my friend's brother, I figured he wouldn't take me to the salt mines to murder and bury me.  He explained the commercial's concept and showed me the draft video on his phone.  It looked pretty funny, although I didn't completely understand the whole thing the first time.  He said the commercial was almost finished, and I told him what I thought about it.  After about 20 minutes of driving, we pulled into a McDonald's parking lot (he was hungry).  McDonald's was only a pit stop on our way to who knows where, for who knows how long (although he was polite enough to ask what time I needed to be home). Maciej was a very nice guy, so I didn't mind just chatting with him anyway. As he bit into his Big Mac, I asked him what else they had to do to finish the commercial.  As it turns out, there was still one, short un-filmed scene, and he wanted me IN it. Not just to consult about it (not that my consultation would add any value anyway).  Wait, what?  Me?  IN the commercial?  I thought you wanted my help MAKING the commercial.  He had never even met me, how did he know he wanted me to be IN it (besides the fact that I'm obviously movie-star material)?  Because I'm American. So basically I'm qualified to star in a commercial because I'm American.  Now I think I'll move to Hollywood and become a celebrity.

The filming for my 0.84 seconds on-screen time took over an hour, to prepare the set, for costumes, for lighting, and for honing my brilliant acting skills to make just the right emotional and physical connection with the audience (you'll see how enthralling I am).  There were 4 others there to help with the scene...all of them helping me, none of whom I knew before that day.  Since they had already finished the rest of the commercial, I was the center of attention.  It was actually pretty cool to feel like a movie star, with the director, producer, and film crew helping me get into my role, people fetching me hot tea, putting my costume on, giving me a motivation, interacting with me during the shoot, and generally encouraging me to make the most confused faces I possibly could.  In the end, I can't say this was the best acting I've ever seen, but I'm sure you'll agree it's at the Denzel Washington/Jack Nicholson level.  Or at least the Keanu Reeves/Paul Walker level.  Unfortunately, the commercial didn't win any prizes (nor did I), so you won't see it on TV, but it was fun nonetheless.

 

On the set (I wasn't really in a submarine)

Anyway, take a look at the commercial and let me know what you think. 

After watching a bunch of the Doritos contestants, I thought this was the funniest one.  Turns out it was shown on TV during the game, and actually, it was one of my favorites out of all of them!

Editor's note: In the video, my name is Smith. They also had a "Kowalski" name tag option, but they voted against it.  I would have loved to be Captain Kowalski. 

Israel part 1: Tel Aviv and Jerusalem

Go to Israel.  Plain and simple.  I'm not a religious person, but any person with any belief (or non-belief) can go to Israel and appreciate the ever-changing history and countless stories it has to offer.  Of course, some of the stories are conflicting, between the Jewish majority, the Muslims, and the Christians (both Orthodox and Catholics), but they are histories and stories nonetheless. And it's worth hearing and seeing first hand. 

Israel is probably the most unstable, stable place in the world. To an outsider it can seem calm and safe and a place everyone should visit, then turn into a war zone to stay far away from the next minute.  We never put it in the same category as other countries who are a few angry words away from starting a war, but the fact is that war could break out at any moment.  People say that if there is a World War III, it will start in Israel (that, or on a soccer field).

A couple weeks before our trip, a conflict broke out between Hamas (the Gaza strip side of Palestine) and Israel. Hundreds of rockets were launched back and forth (including in civilian areas) and the thought of visiting was getting more and more exciting worrying questionable. We closely monitored the news, and as we suspected, the fighting slowed until a cease fire was agreed to, just a few days before our trip.

In the end, we didn't notice any trace of the conflict, other than the lack of crowds, which was great! Our tour guide in Jerusalem estimated a 40% drop in tourists compared to normal December levels. We heard some fighter jets overhead, and saw a tank on the street, but we'll just pretend that's normal. People went about their business as usual. I can't imagine life for Jewish Israelis, who live their lives surrounded by countries who want to destroy them.

There is a great debate as to who is the instigator of this conflict.  Generally the Israel supporters say that since Hamas attacks them, they should be able to attack back (against military personnel, weapons depots, etc) to protect itself.  And since the other countries in the region are typically Muslim and don't recognize the Jewish state, Israel has its backs against the wall at all times.  But can you really condone launching rockets into neighboring territories, killing innocent people?  It's one of the great debates these days (along with which Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle is the best and how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop). 

A couple months before the trip, Igors sent me a message asking if I wanted to go to Israel for 4 days, because the flights were cheap during Lot.com's Crazy Wednesday (every Wednesday flights go on sale). But why stay only 4 days?  Within an hour, 6 of us were booked for 8 days in Israel.  Another 2 got tickets later, bringing our total to 8.

But I didn't think I'd actually get there. My Polish residence card expired the day we left for the trip. My residence card is what allows me to stay in the EU for more than 90 days at a time (otherwise I'd need a visa, which I had, but only for my first year in Poland). Brilliantly, "someone" (not me) submitted the residence card renewal application too late for me to get a new one by the time it expired (to give you an idea as to how long of a delay it was, it expired in November, and I got a new one in January). Anyway, since I had been in EU for longer than 90 days without leaving (i.e. I had no passport stamps), without the residence card I would technically be here for longer than my authorized stay, and could be sent home. If our red-eye flight to Israel was 1 day later (or delayed by a couple hours), I would have been in trouble. We didn't even think about that when booking the trip. I don't know if they'd prevent me from leaving, but they may have prevented me from coming back in, thinking that I overstayed my welcome. Luckily there wasn't an issue, and because I got stamps from Israel and Jordan (not Michael), I was allowed to come back in, and my 90 day limit was reset. Thankfully, the mistake in the "process" didn't cause anything more than a bit of stress. 

Our flight landed in Tel-Aviv before 4 am, which was a weird time for an arrival of a less-than 4 hour flight. We got our rental cars and got to the city with 6 hours to kill before our apartment's check in time. We stopped by a mini-mart and ran into a group of pleasantly drunk people on their way home from a club.  We were both buying waters, but for different reasons, I imagine. The weather was 10 times nicer than in Warsaw so we got some breakfast and laid on the beach for most of the morning. After finding the apartment, going for a beach swim and "lunch" (at a place called Goocha, which had awesome calamari and seafood stew), it felt like midnight. It was dark and we were all tired from no sleep on the flight. I looked at my watch and somehow it was only 5:30 pm. Since we were so tired, we all agreed that we'd take a nap til 10, then get ready for a night out on the town. Yea right. We slept til nearly 8 the next morning.

 

The Mediterranean at 6 am

 

Walking on water is possible!

The great part of going to bed so early is that we had no problem waking up. The next day was for Haifa and the Sea of Galilee (even though it's a lake, it's called a "sea" because that's how the bible refers to it). That's where Jesus was thought to have walked on water (depending on your belief or non-belief). For lunch I ended up with a huge falafel/shwarma pita monster because I didn't know how to order.  I just said "yes" to everything the guy asked me, and ended up with something bigger than my head, and strangers in line laughing at me. It tasted awesome though.

 

Falafel as big as my head

As we were wandering around, lost, looking for beach access, a nice (and obviously bored) hotel employee saw us on the street, called out to us, and helped us find a "free" beach.  The first thing he said was "don't come to our beach, it's not worth it".  What a nice guy!  After a quick swim (but somehow no walking on water), we drove to Haifa, to check out the Bahai gardens.  

Igors trying to walk on the Sea of Galilee

 

Bahai gardens in Haifa

 

Multi-tasking

 

Playing on our gadgets

Generally the apartments we stayed in were pretty nice.  In Tel Aviv we had a 4 bedroom, 3 bath with a jacuzzi, and in Eilat a huge house with a pool.  The Tel Aviv apartment came with a rule I never heard before (but understand): no cooking pork or seafood (to be kosher).

That night we wanted to play in the jacuzzi. I don't really know what I mean by "play", but I guess that's what we did.  Usually you just relax and chat in a jacuzzi, but that's not what we did.  The thing is that in my experience, jacuzzis have hot water in them.  The water coming out of this faucet was ice cold.  We didn't want to give up on the idea, since we had planned that Dominika would fan us with palm leaves in the jacuzzi, so we spent an hour boiling water in pots and the kettle to make hot water. That's not a joke.  We were determined.  This was somewhat gratifying to think we worked so hard for our jacuzzi (having to get up out of the half full tub every 5 minutes for more hot water) that we celebrated a bit too much with shouting, singing, and dancing both inside and outside. We were having so much fun that even the police knocked on our door because they wanted to join. But they forgot their swim suits so we didn't let them in (we have rules here).  Or maybe they just wanted us to shut up, I'm not sure. Domi answered the door in her bikini, while we all hid in the kitchen and behind couches, so you'll have to ask her what they wanted. I haven't laughed that much in a long time. And it turns out there was a hot water switch that was turned off the whole time, so our problems could have been easily fixed by the flip of a switch. Oops. I guess 4 days of cold showers weren't so bad.

 

Filling up the jacuzzi (no other jacuzzi pictures are allowed to be shown)

Then we spent a day and a half exploring Jerusalem, driving back and forth about an hour each way.  Jerusalem is one of the most interesting places I have ever been. It's 4,000 years old, one of the oldest in the world, just a bit older than Seattle, for example.  But outside of the Old Town city walls, everything is only about 150 years old.

Back in 1948, there was a war with Jordan (not Michael) after which Jerusalem was split in half.  The West part stayed with Israel, while the East (including Old Town), went to Jordan (not Michael), until 1967.  After 1967, Israel took back East Jerusalem, and still holds it to this day.  However, Jerusalem is not recognized as the capital city of Israel, because the international community still considers it part of Palestine, under Israeli military occupation.  It's all very confusing to me, but I think they want it to be confusing, so you don't know who to cheer for. 

The Old City city is pretty small, split into 4 distinct and religiously different Quarters; Jewish, Muslim, Christian and Armenian (yea, when I first saw it, I thought the same thing you're thinking...Armenian???).  It sits in the shadow of Mount Zion and the Mountain of Olives, which holds Jewish graves going back 3,000 years. 

Due to the timing of the free and cheap city tours, and the fact there were so many of us, we decided to pay for a private tour guide (just a suggestion for anyone going - definitely book at least one of the scheduled, and/or free tours, otherwise you will have no idea where to go or what you are looking at). Irina conducted a thorough telephone interview process with 3 options (negotiating price, time, activities, hair color, and listening to if the person sounded fun), before finally settling on Dvir.  He was really friendly, happy, and funny, and unbiased in his stories (it would be easy to slant a tour to be pro-Jewish, for example). Domi was disappointed he didn't have red hair, but in the end we were all happy with him. And for $200 for 4 hours, it was very affordable (and worth it).

 

Dvir explaining the history of Jerusalem

One of the first things I asked him was if they felt safe in Jerusalem during the rocket launching fiestas a couple weeks before. He said that there are many Muslims in the city so he felt safe in Jerusalem, especially since he was standing at the Golden Dome during the rocket sirens. The Golden Dome sits on Temple Mount (which has changed between a Christian, Jewish and Muslim prayer spot over time), and is currently the third most important location in Islam. It would be the last place  the Muslim Hamas would attack (or maybe third to last place).

Jewish people are not even allowed to go up to Temple Mount, partially to not cause any disturbance with the praying Muslims, but also so they don't pray in the wrong area. This is why the Western Wall, holding up Temple Mount, is the main Jewish prayer site in the World.  They want to honor the original Jewish Temple (from 3,000 years ago), but since it is long destroyed, they pray at the base of the wall. We walked up to the wall to put our wish/prayer in one of the crevices, because, you know, when in Rome (but be careful that guys and girls go to separate parts of the wall). Jewish texts say that the Mount will be the site of the Third Temple, which will be rebuilt with the coming of the Jewish Messiah. This would mean that at some point the Muslim Dome would have to be destroyed to make room for the next Temple (something else that fuels the Jewish vs Muslim fire).  It's incredible that the most famous holy sites for different religions can be right next door to each other.

 

The Western Wall with the Golden Dome in the background

 

On Temple Mount

One thing that they are not shy about in Israel is obvious racial profiling. At the car checkpoints on the highways, if you look non-Muslim, then you're allowed to pass, but if you look Muslim, have a Muslim name, or have a parent or grandparent with a Muslim name, then you get some hassle (like Renata did at the airport because they guards didn't like her grandfather's Muslim-sounding name). On the opposite spectrum, Muslims are allowed into the mosque area in Jerusalem just by looking Muslim (and non-Muslims are allowed only at certain times - and Jews not at all). It's a bit backwards, but the Golden Dome area is guarded by Israeli police, protecting a Muslim site, that used to be the Jewish temple (while the Jewish people are waiting for it to be destroyed so the Third temple can come). Dvir told us that the government is pretty good at being neutral towards all religions, and sometimes is even tougher on the Jewish, so not to look like they're being biased (which might cause conflict).

During the tour we visited many very historically significant spots in the city: the Virgin Mary's crypt (where exiting is not allowed), the dining room where The Last Supper was held (based on the Dan Brown book), and the church where Jesus was crucified, buried, and resurrected.

 

Virgin Mary's crypt

That's a little worrisome

It was a fascinating city, and somewhere that everyone should visit sometime in their lives.  My dad used to tell me that when I was a kid, but I always thought "yea yea, it can't be as cool as Disneyland".  But now that I've been there, I have the same advice.  Go to Jerusalem.

 

In Jerusalem you can have the best falafel ever (includes fries!)

 

Pita and hummus for every meal

Coming next, Part 2: The Dead Sea, Eilat and Petra. 

Dear Gas Man...

Dear Gas Man...

Thank you for making me appreciate the things in life that I take for granted, like hot water and a working stove.  As you know, whenever there is a sign posted in my apartment building entry, it's usually bad news.  It usually means that I will have some inconvenience, so I take a picture of the letter and have someone at work translate it for me.  This time, you said that my gas would be off for 4 days.  First of all, is that even legal?  I'm not sure.  But I guess you don't care anyway. It was going to be a bit annoying to not have hot water or a stove, but since I had cross fit, swimming, and spinning over the first few days, I could just shower at the gym.  I could survive.

 

I hate seeing signs like this

The problem was the mornings when I didn't go to the gym.  I had to be creative.  I bathed myself using water from a small yellow bucket, mixing cold water and boiling water from the kettle.  I'd wet myself (don't be childish, I don't mean peeing in my pants...I mean I wet myself with the water from the bucket), then wash, and pour the rest of the bucket of water on my head to rinse off.  That first Tuesday, my head and legs were itchy all day and I couldn't figure out why...until I realized I probably didn't rinse well enough.  I don't know if you've tried it, but pouring water on your head doesn't rinse everything on your body squeaky clean.  The next morning I prepared more hot water, and set the bucket of cold water out over night so it would become room temperature (good idea, right?).  This allowed me to make more warm water, which gave me enough for two rinses.  Some people call me a genius. Thank you, Gas Man, for allowing me to realize my genius potential.  Feel free to share this tip with others whose gas you turn off.

The part that bothered me was that you were supposed to schedule an appointment with me during the week to do the new installation in my apartment, then come on the Friday morning to check that everything was fine. I never heard from you during the week, so Ilona called you to check when you were coming.  Do you remember that?  You told her that you would come on Friday morning (before noon) to do the final check, but you didn't mention anything about needing 4 or 5 hours for the installation, like my neighbor Ania said you scheduled with her.  On Friday afternoon I had to go to the airport (weekend snowboarding in Italy) and still hadn't heard from you.  I'm sorry if you came after I left, but I left at 1:30pm and you said you'd be there by that time.  I naively thought that you decided you didn't need to come inside, and when I returned on Monday, the gas would be working.  I should know by now not to make these types of assumptions. Luckily I had a few hot showers in Italy, with a bit of snowboarding in between, because hot showers were not waiting for me when I returned to Warsaw. 

But you already knew that. 

When I got back on Monday evening, the first thing I did was go to the stove to see if it worked.  I closed my eyes and slowly turned the knob, hoping to hear the subtle hiss of the gas coming out. Silence.  In the stairwell there was a new gas meter (it looks very nice by the way, almost worth all the dust and debris you created that have somehow made their way under my door into my apartment), and a lever I'd never seen before that was switched to OFF.  Since there were 3 other levers switched to ON, I thought it must be the lever for my apartment, and you were leaving it for me to turn it on.  I appreciated that, because you know how much I love turning levers.  I crossed my fingers, closed my eyes again (hoping nothing would explode), and turned it.  Still no luck (but also luck, because nothing exploded, and no neighbors came out to yell at me for messing something up in their apartment).  I was cold and sweaty after snowboarding and traveling that day, so I visited my friend, Mr. yellow bucket. And I sang additional praises for this whole process, of course.

Ilona, Monika, and my neighbor Ania were all very helpful in trying to figure this out.  Remember them?  You spoke to all 3.  Ilona arranged for you to come to me on Wednesday of week 2 (day 10 without gas), because in the previous week, somehow you forgot about both installing in my unit and checking that the installation was OK.  My apartment is #7, in the middle floor...it's not hard to remember.  Thanks anyway for coming on Day 10.  It's a nice round number.  You arrived at 8:10 am and were gone just a few minutes later.  But of course, you know that nothing was was fixed.  You wanted to call my landlord just to check that he was OK with the installation (wouldn't that have been a good idea WEEKS ago when planning to do this in the first place?). After talking to my landlord, I loved how you threw your hands in the air and said "we're leaving!" Well, it was nice for you to stop by to say hi anyway.  I would have made you breakfast, but my stove wasn't working. You said you were leaving because the landlord told you NOT to do the installation!  Since we were having trouble communicating in Polish, I called Moni to get a translated explanation.  I guess that my best plea in Polish, "I want hot water," wasn't convincing enough for you.  As you could tell, my Polish is a bit limited.  So Moni called my landlord, and he told her no as well, and probably yelled at her, because he is never very nice.  I'm sorry if he yelled at you too. My only guess is that he never knew that the installation was going to happen, so he wasn't prepared to say yes.  You and your team left, obviously not happy that you came to me for nothing.  I'm sorry for you, but also for me, because I was back to the same position I was 10 days before.  No gas, no hot water, and no idea when it would be back on.

On the bright side, this whole experience made me think about this scene from Dumb and Dumber. Have you seen it?  It's a good one, and since you are a Gas Man, you might enjoy it.  Also, thanks for giving me a good excuse to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day.

In the end, you made some compromise with the landlord, and returned to do some work to turn the gas on again.  I don't know what the compromise was, but as long as I have a hot shower and working stove, I don't care.  It's amazing how many things in life like this we take for granted, only to throw a fit when it's taken away from us.  I'm glad I'm lucky enough to have running water, electricity and all that.  So thanks for giving me the opportunity to appreciate these little things in life.

And how amazing that first shower felt.

Yours truly (and I hope to never see you again),
Tristan

Polish Christmas

Part 1: Santa comes to Warsaw

The last couple years I have had a Christmas party gift exchange, where Santa comes and hands out gifts to everyone that wants to participate.  Party attendees (dressed in either nice suits/dresses or ugly sweaters) bring a small gift, less than $10 in value, and put them into Santa's bag.  Then Santa arrives and everyone can sit on his lap and receive their gift.  It's usually a really fun night and it makes us realize that we are never too old for Santa's lap (even me).  

 

Santa gets a turn sitting on a good girl's lap

 

The tree gets more slanted every year 

Part 2: Christmas in Kielce

When I booked my flights to Finland, I thought about spending Christmas there, but then I thought that in the 3 winters I've been living in Poland, I've actually never been in Poland during Christmas. I spent my first one in Riga with Irina's family, and last year in Rome with Patrizia's. There's a chance it would be my last Christmas living in Poland, so I thought that I should actually spend at least one in Poland. I didn't know exactly WHERE I would spend it, but I'm pretty good at getting people to feel sorry for me and inviting me over to their place (as you can see from the last 2 years). This year, Ewa was first (of a few, thankfully) to ask.

Even before I arrived I was assigned some work.  I was joining the pierogi production team, with an optional task of killing the carp.  Ewa's mom wanted me to have the full Polish experience. I'll help with pierogi but no carp massacres for me please. I'm still not sure if they hit it on the head with a mallet, like my grandma used to do when fishing, or if they just cut off the head, medieval execution style (I just finished watching an episode of Game of Thrones).  

Ewa is from Kielce, a town on the way to Krakow. Last time some friends visited her family's place, I heard how great a cook her mom and grandma were. So it wasn't a difficult decision to try things for myself. This is, after all, about my Polish experience, not about hearing about a Polish experience.  If the stories were true, someone was probably going to have to drag me back to Warsaw after I've had my fill. I hate to walk (or roll) away from good home cooked meals...especially if it involves pierogi.

The Polski bus was the quickest way to get there. For 20-30 zl, it took 3 hours, was very easy, comfortable and the bus has Wi-Fi (but I slept the whole way so it didn't matter). On the first night, dinner was ready when I arrived, and 7 of us sat down together. Andrzej and his wife were there, with their new baby, and Ewa's aunt as well. Some of the family spoke English with me, but even when not, we were able to communicate in Polish. I didn't contribute much to group conversations (in Polish), besides clumsily answering a few questions here and there. I can see that being around people speaking Polish all the time would vastly improve my abilities (and make my brain tired). I just hope they didn't mind me constantly translating words on my phone during the conversations (I promise I wasn't texting or checking facebook!).

To prepare for the next night's Christmas eve dinner, we (including me!) made some herring rolls (pickled herring, mustard, pepper, pickles and onions), then everyone sat around talking and drinking wine and whiskey (a LOT of whiskey). Before I knew it, it was after 2 am and everyone was still sitting around chatting.  I think they stayed up with me because they knew I wanted to watch the Seahawks game at 2:30. The biggest Christmas treat was that they have ESPN, so I was able to watch the game on TV (on the flat screen Sony in my own room). It was awesome! Andrzej said he played American football as a kid, but still doesn't know the rules. It made me think of my first Warsaw Eagles game that was like watching a freshman high school team.  The game finished at 5:30 am and was a great Christmas present...a dominating 42-13 win over the division leading 49ers. 

 

Pickled herring rolls - try one, you'll like it (maybe)

Ewa's family has 4 cats, 3 of them in their teens (that like 100 in cat years). It was nice to have cats laying around everywhere. One of them pulls all her leg hairs out each winter as she gets stressed, so you can easily tell her apart from the rest. She looks like she isn't wearing pants. She is also a bit cross-eyed, and reminds me a bit of Pinky from Pinky and the Brain. I think it was a result of getting her head crushed by a car when she was little (really). But she's survived 13 years after that, which is somewhat of a miracle, and she is really friendly and a bit crazy. She was my favorite immediately.

 

Pinky

 

One of Ewa's large cats (called "little bear")

Christmas Eve is the most important day for Polish families. People started coming over around 2:30 pm, while I was taking a nap (darn Seahawks game!). There was a bit of chaos as everyone was preparing some dishes in the kitchen. The tradition is to have 12 meatless dishes, to represent the 12 Apostles. Sometimes they count the bread, sometimes not, depending if they already have 12 or not, so I guess the 12 is flexible. It's also tradition to have one empty place setting, for the unexpected guest. This meant I didn't have to sit on the floor with the cats.

As I was waiting in the living room for my pierogi instructions, listening to American Christmas songs Ewa's dad put on (he said "they're not very good but I think they're songs you know"), I looked around the room and realized I was sitting on a chair, resting, and in every chair next to me, the cats were doing the same. I'd already adapted to their way of life...lazily laying around, waiting for food or for someone to play with me.  Nobody played with me, so I just sat there, humming along to "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas".  

 

Chillin with some lazy cats

I rolled up the sleeves of my new red Christmas cardigan and got to work on the pierogi production line. Grandma rolled the dough, while Ewa, her mom, aunt and I stuffed them. I think you could tell which were made by Polish ladies and which were made by an American man. Overall it was pretty fun and to my knowledge, grandma approved of my finished pierogi...I don't think any of them fell apart (and nobody got sick). Even if if did happen, there's no proof that mine were the bad ones since they were all mixed together! :) 

 

Authentic pierogi chef

 

Finished product

One embarrassing part of the dinner (but much appreciated) is that her mom made non-dairy stuff just for me. Actually it seemed that everyone in the family knew about my "problem" with dairy, as they would serve certain dishes then look at me and say "not for you!" and pull it away from me. I'm glad they were looking out for me, but I wish they hadn't gone through the trouble.

There are a few Christmas eve traditions In Poland...to put hay under the table cloth, serve unleavened bread to start the meal (and to exchange Christmas wishes), and everyone eats carp. Generally I don't know if many people actually like carp (which is maybe why they don't eat it on any other day of the year), but it's a tradition. I informally asked a lot of Poles about their carp eating habits, and most of them scrunch their noses, shake their heads and say "ewwww", when I ask.  Because it's a bottom feeder, people say that it tastes a bit "muddy" and the meat isn't as firm as other white fish (and there's lots of small bones). Ewa's mom fried it and it smelled really good. I wouldn't call it my favorite dish, but it wasn't bad (for one day a year). It tasted better cold for breakfast the next day as the meat was a bit firmer. 

 

Fried carp looks and smells good

I was completely stuffed after the 12 dishes, including my own 2 mountains of non-dairy pierogi. Andrzej's wife was also on a special diet because of the baby, so I wasn't the only one with a special menu. The chefs went through a lot of trouble for us!

After dinner we chatted in the living room (every meal ends with coffee or tea and sweets in the living room). I tried to answer a few questions from the family in Polish, but I was so tired and full that I could barely function other than petting the random cat that came near me. The family were all very friendly and nice. They entertained my weak Polish by speaking slowly and simply with me.
 

Ewa started the gift opening since it was her name day (Christmas Eve), then everyone got into the action. I brought some small gifts for Ewa's mom and grandma, and for the baby. And I got a blank recipe book from Santa (or maybe it was from an angel, since that's who they say brings their gifts), with a recipe for pierogi handwritten in it. Ewa (or Santa) ordered the blank book to arrive at her parents' house, and when it arrived, the parents thought she ordered a recipe book from some Japanese chef because it had my name on the cover. Then they opened it and saw it was blank inside and were really confused.  I guess they weren't too impressed with this Tristan Sakura guy.  

 

The cook book I haven't yet written

The next day we had a quick tour of Kielce city center before lunch at her grandma's. We had some really great mushroom soup, goose with baked apples, wine, a traditional fruit compote drink, and tea/coffee and cakes in the living room. It was a nice lunch and I could definitely get used to it! It even included some of grandma's homemade fruit liquor. I think grandma likes to party, as she has a closet (and/or cellar) full of homemade booze.

Part 3: English Christmas
Back to Warsaw on the Polski bus, I felt warm from the lunch and drinks...but there was no time to rest, as we went straight to Cristina's for her and Alan's annual (maybe?) English Christmas dinner of turkey, sausages, yorkshire pudding, brussel sprouts, experimental gingerbread cookies, special shots and other tasty treats. The food was excellent and I wish my stomach could hold as much as Alan's so I could keep eating.  It was 3 days of gluttony and I loved it. It was really nice to spend the holidays with friends.

 

Husky gingerbread

Unfortunately I had to leave the celebration early to pack and get ready for my trip to Finland, but that's another story...

Thanksgiving 2012

Thanksgiving snuck up on me this year faster than ever. 

One minute it was summer, then Halloween, and all of a sudden Thanksgiving was on us.  Did you know that November 22 is the earliest that Thanksgiving can be?  Well, that's when it was in 2012.  I figured that one out all by myself, using math.  For all you non-Americans, Thanksgiving is always the 4th Thursday of November, so when November 1 is a Thursday, Thanksgiving is on the 22nd...and that's the earliest it could ever be.  EVER!!!! (said in a dramatic voice).  So here's a 5th grade test question: What's the latest date that Thanksgiving could ever be? 

As you know, I love Thanksgiving.  But I actually stress out about it a lot in Poland, because it's so difficult to find a turkey here.  Unless you know where to look.  Which I don't.  2 years ago I got lucky and stumbled upon one buried at the bottom of a freezer in the 7th shop I checked.  Last year Kamila found the turkey for me but kept the location a secret and threw away the key (I think she forgot).  This year, I was back to square one because the first two options didn't work.  Naturally I checked all the usual suspects for turkeys, but nowhere that I had been before had any.  I thought I figured it out when I checked the website www.befsztyk.pl and they said they had turkeys.  I called the English hotline (that's what they called it), and tried to order one.  The problem was that they had fresh turkeys only, and they were arriving on Wednesday, just in time to cook them on Thanksgiving day. So this was perfect!  For celebrating on Thursday.  Not on Thanksgiving Sunday, like we were. 

I searched online for how long you can keep a fresh turkey in the fridge before it spoils, and most sites recommended 2-3 days max.  Here's some more math for you: Fresh turkey Wednesday + 3 days = Bad turkey Saturday = Sick people on Thanksgiving Sunday.  So that wasn't an option.  I tried to make room in my freezer to store a turkey, but the shelf in the middle of the freezer is frozen stuck and couldn't be removed in time.  I asked the guy at the shop if he could just put the turkey in the freezer for me, but he said "sorry, they are fresh turkeys".  "So can you freeze it for me?".  "No, they're fresh".  I don't know if that meant he has no freezer to put them in, or if he was telling me that they're not frozen, so stop asking about frozen ones. So I gave up and the search continued.

Luckily one evening Igors texted me saying that he saw a huge flock of frozen turkeys at the Tesco by his apartment.  I went out there to look for them, but when I got there, I searched high and low and didn't see any turkeys!  In my head I wondered "Does Igors even know what a turkey is?".  It turns out there are 2 Tescos next to each other and I was in the wrong one.  I went to the one down the street and found it....the ark of the covenant, the fountain of youth, the...freezer of turkeys.  It was beautiful.

I thought I'd never find you!

 

Mmmmmmm, turkeeyyyyyyy

In the end, there were 19 of us for dinner, plus a baby and a dog.  It was like a real family dinner!  Ken brought his mom, who was visiting from Brooklyn (she lives just a few blocks from where I used to live in Park Slope), Lizzy came just a couple hours after flying back from her Thanksgiving in the US, Alan came after a very not low key 2 day bachelor party in Krakow, Julia from a business trip to Kazakhstan, and Juan from his apartment 5 minutes down the road.  So I guess everyone really wanted to be there.  It was simply great. 

 

Lasagna made by an Italian should be part of every Thanksgiving meal

Dinner tables are overrated

 

Cyprian loves Thanksgiving!

While we were eating, Ken made a presentation about the history of Thanksgiving and had everyone read a page out loud.  It was like story time, with everyone listening intently, then the story getting passed around to someone to read the next page with a different accent: Russian, Latvian, Scottish, English, Romanian, Italian, Polish, American, Brooklyn, Australian, and Ecuadorian/British.

 

Story time with Lizzy - whatever she's saying must be really interesting

I wanted to go around the room and have people say what they were thankful for this year, but when I finally put the last dish on the table (the carved turkey), it was like a pack of wild hyenas surrounding a buffalo carcass.  It was not a pretty sight, and I didn't want to mess with people's hunger, or I'd risk my hands getting eaten off.  I think it's safe to say that everyone enjoyed their food (twice or three times).  We thought about waiting for Alan (the last to arrive) to finish his dinner before going for dessert, but he ate for at least 2 hours, so we wouldn't have survived.  And Basia was walking around with an empty plate for her pie for 20 minutes, trying to give me the hint.

I had to convince them to let me take this picture before they tore the food up

As usual, I brined the turkey overnight and made stuffing, gravy, cranberries, and pumpkin pie.  But the meal was not complete without the contributions from everyone else.  We had various salads, vegetables, sweet and french potatoes, chicken, and some very traditional Thanksgiving items like quiche, lasagna, and pierogi (all awesome!).  (As a side note, did you know that seafood was actually part of the original Thanksgiving dinners?  If you don't believe me, just ask WiKENpedia).  We washed down our meals with pumpkin martinis, and a lot of wine.  And Ewa made a pecan pie even though she has never made or eaten one in her life, and it was really good!

 

Pecan and Pumpkin pie - Ken also made a pumpkin pie but it looked much better than mine, so I will not show it to you

The night was full of good food, lots of laughs, funny stories, dogs and babies, and was generally a wonderful evening.  Just like I said last year, this could be my last Thanksgiving in Poland, and it was a great one to end on, if that is indeed true.  But it's also sad to think about at the same time, because dinners like this should come more often. 

 

Even Abby the dog wanted to pass out after a big meal!

I get so nostalgic about Thanksgiving that I read through my posts from the last 2 years.  Feel free to take a look and see how my apartment gets smaller every year: 2010 and 2011.