21. Religious Intersections; Armenian Mass; Western Wall (and sexism still prevails) 1/8/23
8 January 2023
Hello / Բարեւ / ‘ahlan / שלום / Shalom/ /
Began our day a bit late today… settled into the Villa Brown Hotel Moshava in the German District of Jerusalem; made decision to cut one day from Akko and add that day to Jerusalem because we wound up spending yesterday in Tel Aviv instead of Jerusalem… but started with yet another incredible breakfast… what is it about the middle east that makes breakfasts so large and so good? — Egypt, Jordan, and now Israel are all breakfast specialists. Villa Brown Moshava (our little boutique hotel with just 24 rooms) does not have a restaurant, so they give you a daily coupon to eat at a place that is about 3 minutes down the road, called Caffit–a low key breakfast/brunch/lunch restaurant with an extensive menu for morning fare. Then we searched for an ATM as we were low on cash; and then we found a pharmacy so that Mike could get some cough syrup and something for his chest cold. He’s well stocked now. All of this happened on Emek Refaim Street which is a nice street chock full of shops and cafes and interesting old houses and buildings.
We then figured that instead of walking the whole way to the old city, we should hop in a taxi (using my trusted Gett app) and we headed for the Jaffa Gate. Once there we walked first to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, in the Christian quarter, built in the 4th century – considered to be the most sacred site in the world for millions of Christians. It’s supposedly the site of the crucifixion, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. The church is a major Christian pilgrimage destination, especially on Sundays, like today. Control of the church is shared by multiple Christian denominations. We also climbed up to the roof of the church where we are told poor Ethiopian pilgrims and monks live in little huts, and where a dome of the chapel can be seen. Apparently, Ethiopians built this tiny village atop the church to continue their claims to the chapel after they had to sell it to the Coptic church in the 17th century. We saw the stone and cement “huts” but we didn’t see any of the monks. We saw many doors that led into private spaces, each with signs saying that the area was private.
From the Church of the Holy Sepulchre we dashed off to the Church of St. James. It’s nestled within a walled compound in the ancient Armenian Quarter of the Old City. It’s ornately decorated with lots of hanging glass chandeliers and what I think are incense vessels. It dates to AD 420. The church is only open to the public during religious services. The interior, under a vaulted dome, includes a display of massive chandeliers, countless lamps, paintings, carved wood, inlaid mother-of-pearl, bronze engravings, and blue and green wall tiles. The marble floor was covered with purple, green and red carpets when we were there. The service includes (all men) young novitiates (?) and elders (who could use a little dieting) wearing black hoods. Incense and candles are burning everywhere and there’s amazing singing echoing throughout the building (all of which seemed to be in a common tone – no sopranos, no altos). There is a part of the service where the younger dudes place very ornate capes on the older guys. The service has a lot of chanting. There’s no electricity so everything is by the light of candles. Very effective and moving.
We stayed for the entire service and my take-away is that you cannot become an Armenian monk unless you can carry a tune. Mike says his chest cold immediately improved after sitting through the service and witnessing “a miracle.”
Then we strolled to the Western Wall… which, in my opinion.. was like the pyramids.. a bit of a letdown. Mike and I were walking together, although I was ahead of him, since I walk faster. Suddenly, I turned around and I couldn’t find him… A woman then said to me: “He cannot come in here; he needs to go in the other section.” And I remembered that women cannot “pray” or visit the same part of the wall as men. Mike “protested” by not going to the wall at all, and just sitting on a bench further back and observing the whole scene. I went in briefly but did not touch the wall and I suddenly remembered those memories of not being able to sit in the main section of the synagogue for my brother’s bar mitzvah. The wall, known as the most holy site in the Jewish faith, is the last remnant of the original retaining wall that surrounded the Second Temple that was built more than 2,000 years ago.
After the temple was destroyed in AD 70, the Jews were exiled from the city, and it became a place of pilgrimage where they would return to lament their loss (therefore, long known as the Wailing Wall). Now it is essentially an open-air synagogue, with divided sections for men and women to pray independently. Worshipers place little notes in the cracks in the wall, believing that these prayers will be answered quickly. Lots of Hasidic men, women, and children.
I watched women say their prayers and write little notes on paper that they tucked into the cracks in the wall. And I watched men and women whispering their prayers, into the wall and reaching up with their hands to touch the wall. I met up with Mike in the plaza and we strolled to the Damascus Gate before heading back to the hotel.
Tonight we ate at Mona, which was listed as being in an “artist’s house”.. which I expected to mean a little cottage. But it was a large elegant building with a stone-walled garden and a working fireplace. It had a rustic feeling although it had a totally modern menu. We started with a beef tartare and an agnolotti stuffed with meat and sitting in a red cream sauce. For the next course we had veal sweetbreads cooked with another wonderful and unusual sauce. We also had barr fish (It’s like sea bass) filleted and sitting on wonderful lemon linguini. Ended the meal with a lovely cheesecake.
Back at the hotel, I want to get this out before I hit the pillow. By the way, Mike now thinks that all of these ancient religions are older versions of QAnon.
Fern
Greetings from Jerusalem –
Last night’s dinner at Dalida was great. We sat at the bar where we could watch all the kitchen action. We had the sweetbreads kabob followed by a pasta stuffed with eggplant and spices in a wonderful creamy tomato sauce (really great, but a very small portion) and then a lamb kebab… and of course dessert. The menu is very creative and combines Arab, French, and Italian tastes. Highly recommended.
This morning we learned that because Saturday is Shabbat, the trains don’t run until 8:45 pm! So, we spent the entire day walking in Tel Aviv, which was fun, because it was clear and sunny, although got overcast late in the day. But this new information meant that our “fast train” to Jerusalem would get into the station at about 9:30 pm.
We walked through another area near our hotel filled with murals and then headed to the areas we had not walked yesterday when the rains started. Initially we headed to the long linear park that edges the beach. It was sunny and Saturday, so everyone seemed to be out… soaking in the sun, biking, walking, or sitting in the park area. Mike decided to join the “sitters” in the sun and I strolled ahead meandering through many different neighborhoods and sweet alleyways and pedestrian streets with interesting housing and shops.
Eventually I found myself on Shabazi Street (good thing I didn’t get there yesterday, or I might have blown the budget shopping in all of the boutiques that lined the street). I suddenly found myself walking around a big crowd that seemed to be waiting for something or trying to get into a shop. I surveyed the situation and realized they were all trying to get into an ice cream store. Since there are many ice cream shops in Tel Aviv, I figured this one must be special, so I joined in and finally got to the counter to place my order. The few people on line speaking English were saying it is the “best ice cream in the world!” Not sure, I’d go that far but it was pretty damn good… very decadent, hand-made, real cream-based gelato and frozen yogurt with over 150 flavors (not every day.. they switch em up; about 20 per day). I tried the pistachio and a nougat/chocolate/chili one. Realized I hadn’t had lunch, so I figured it was important that I get some energy.
Then Mike called that he was walking as well, having soaked up enough sun—and we agreed to meet at The Norman, an iconic hotel. It apparently began with three residential buildings of different architectural styles, one of which was influenced by the Bauhaus. It has lots of character and history and is quite elegant. Since I hadn’t revealed my little ice cream lunch, I met Mike in the restaurant (Alena) and we ate a late lunch (4:00). We had a wonderful pizza that had eggplant as its base (instead of tomato sauce) and Israeli cheese and spices and then just as it comes out of the oven, they put an egg yolk on top which gets warmed by the pizza. Really rich and very tasty.. Then we followed that with a calamari dish that was also very good.. and paired so well with our wine.
By then it was dark out and we decided to take a taxi back to our hotel area.. Traffic was crazy and many streets in the area of our hotel were totally impassible, so we hopped out of the taxi about 1/3 mile from our destination and walked the rest of the way. By the way, I now have the app Gett (like Curb in NY—where you can both order and also pay for your taxi). So, we just have to punch in our location, and you know when a taxi will come to pick you up. We eventually came back to the Market House Hotel to get our bags and then headed to the train station.
The fast train (45 minutes from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem) was fine. When we arrived, the station wasn’t yet open, so we waited with everyone else for the gates to open. There was some kind of security check and we had all our luggage so I expected a nightmare since most people only had only a backpack. But they asked for our passports and then waved us in. We figured out how to purchase our tickets and which station in Jerusalem we needed (they have three stations). There was virtually no English at the station, but we figured out the track/platform and got on the right train. It was a little cumbersome with our baggage, but the train wasn’t too crowded, and we could take up more than our two seats. Other people did the same.
The train and the station were filled with families (with many children in each family) and they needed to navigate carriages and such, so our load was easy compared to them. When we emerged from the train it took two elevators and two escalators to get to the street (not sure why it was designed that way). We found a taxi right near the station and headed to our hotel: Villa Brown Moshava, in the German Quarter. Since it was now a bout 10:30 pm we couldn’t see much enroute, but the hotel is quite nice. It’s a landmark historic building with just 24 rooms. Our room has a little balcony (have no idea what we see since it’s dark outside) and very tall ceilings. The rooms are all small, but elegant. We’re here for three nights, but given that we thought we’d arrive by noon today but instead got here well after dark, we may add another night here and shorten our stay in Akko which is a really small town so maybe we don’t need as much time as we’ve given it. We shall see.
That’s it for now.
Fern
6 January 2023
Greetings from Jaffa, Israel – where we are watching CNN and not missing the shit show the Republicans are creating—Who are these jerks?
First a little mouthwatering news from Popina – where we had dinner last night (after trying to make reservations for at least four other places and lucked out because there was a cancelation at Popina!) We took a taxi to the restaurant which was in a pretty upscale neighborhood with ultra-modern high-rise buildings. Popina bills itself as serving “modern food,” within the culinary landscape of Tel Aviv, and serving “central-region Israeli food” It’s located in an ancient building that is decorated with clean lines and retro stained glass, stone walls, and a green garden; the kitchen is certainly center stage. We had a hard time making selections since everything sounded so good and the plates coming to neighboring tables looks so yummy.
We settled on two starters [a seafood pizza—what they call “Black Pizza,” which was cooked with goat cheese cream, shrimps and scallops, herbs, and chili oil; and a beef tartare with pumpkin, asparagus, oyster mushrooms and pickled egg yolk, sitting in what I think was demi-glace with mustard cream (?)] We almost ordered another starter called “gin and tonic sashimi” which really sounded good… For the main course, we had the slow-cooked veal cheek with green leaves, Jerusalem artichoke cream, and I think shiitake demi-glace (or something like that). All I can say is that each dish was fantastic. Oh… dessert, we selected chocolate mousse which was served inside some kind of pastry puff; with beet ice cream on the side. And the server brought an extra dessert (just what we needed) something very lemony and very good. I had Israeli wine and Mike (nursing his cold and claiming his drink is medicinal) had three “hot toddies” – He thinks he might be able to claim it on his health insurance.
Today, we started out at the Hotel Cinema in the district in Tel Aviv that has a lot of Bauhaus buildings. Turns out that there are many Bauhaus-style buildings here – constructed between 1920 and 1940, by German-Jewish architects who immigrated to Tel Aviv after the rise of the Nazism. Indeed, we learned that Tel Aviv is home to about 4,000 buildings that are in Bauhaus style and that 2,000 of them are protected by preservation rulings. [The Bauhaus school operated between 1919 and 1933 in Germany.]
We strolled under the overcast grey sky to the very vibrant and very crowded Carmel Market (Shuk Hacarmel) — the largest market (shuk) in Tel Aviv. Here you can get everything from spices to clothing to electronics to fruits and vegetables to candy to cases for your cellphone (including one that shows Netanyahu sitting on a toilet). The Market is more than 100 years old, nearly as old as the city of Tel Aviv itself. The layout of the market is simple with one street that runs throughout the entire length of the market and several “auxiliary” short side streets.
And within the market there are hundreds of little “restaurants” and cafes and food stalls where you can get lots of very appealing foods, breads, desserts, or snacks to eat as you walk. While we weren’t really that hungry, everything looked so good that we just gave up and settled into a little place that I think was called “The Greek.” It was just a counter that surrounded a bar and it was bustling. We were drawn to it because a lot of loud music was playing, and everyone was singing along with the music. We think they were singing Greek songs but in Hebrew (but not knowing either language it was a little difficult to discern). Everyone was drinking lots of Ouzo and eating while they sang. We waited for stools at the counter and once we had our seats (two of the 25+/- seats) we ordered dolmas and zucchini fritters and wine. Everything came with tzatziki and the food was great.
According to my Shazam app, the songs that were playing with literally everyone (except us) singing along very loudly and knowing all of the words came from an album by Gabi Shoshan (love that Shazam!) As we were paying, two people were trying to grab our seats and we chatted very briefly. They said that Israel is good, but that the political leadership of Israel is terrible—they said if you can rate someone as a zero, Netanyahu would be seven time zero.
Then we continued walking through the market and were headed to two particular neighborhoods we wanted to see… but then the rains came. First we just stood under a canopy thinking it might be momentary, but then it was clear this would be a real rain and it would linger.. so we eventually ventured out to the street and found a taxi.
We are about to head to a restaurant called Dalida, which we assume will be as good as all the others. Can’t seem to go wrong with food here. Will report tomorrow.
Oh, a little side story that I forgot to mention in previous notes… I stopped into a small store, thinking I might bring back some of those Dead Sea face and hand cream products. I was perusing the stuff in the little shop when the saleswoman approached me. I said I was just looking, but she continued that I needed to get an “anti-aging cream” as well as some other stuff. Not very good salesmanship! I didn’t buy anything.
All the best –
Fern
18. Markets, Meandering, and… 1/5/23. Jaffa
Greetings from Jaffa, Israel-
We began the day with a fabulous breakfast at the Market House Hotel in the flea market area of Jaffa. The hotel is extremely (!!!) family-friendly (and dog-friendly), with kids jumping on the couches in the lobby and lots of baby carriages. Also, one guest who always has her dog with her; either she or the dog (or both) are from Russia, but now lives in Brooklyn, based on our very limited conversation on the elevator. The hotel is pretty eclectic, but good for us. Breakfast was both a buffet and also additional ordering (we ordered the shakshuka—naturally!). The buffet had everything from lox and herring to salads to fruits to dips and cheeses, and of course breads and pastries, including two kinds of babkas. Definitely, a feast. And then we walked. Mike decided to take it easy to try to get rid of his cold, so he opted to sit in the sun in a nearby park. And I (who arrived in Cairo with a cold, three weeks ago but finally kicked it with Claritin and Flonase) meandered the streets of Jaffa (Yafo in Hebrew; Yafa in Arabic).
Jaffa is the southernmost and oldest part of Tel Aviv (and it seems that many people refer to it as Tel Aviv-Yafo; it’s a port city that is associated with many biblical stories and also mythological stories, It’s also known for its oranges. My mini-research effort says that approximately 37% of the city is Arab. The city’s history is complicated and I’m sure many of you reading this know a great deal more than I about the many different controversies surrounding the area over centuries. (And today, many just see Jaffa as an extension of Tel Aviv, but I think it is a lot more distinct than that.) I believe that Jaffa’s seaport is more than 4,000 years old (oldest harbor in continual use?) Because only small ships could enter the port’s narrow entrance, Jaffa eventually ceased to function as a trading harbor and now it’s home to small, local fishing boats and some small yachts. But as you meander the little streets and alleyways, it’s easy to imagine it filled with traders who arrived by sea transferring goods to camel caravans destined for Cairo, Jerusalem, and beyond. In any case, as I understand it, Jaffa always had a large Arab population; in the last half of the 20th Century, it was home to impoverished Arabs and Jewish immigrants from Arab countries.
I’ll skip the very complicated history that dates back to 14th Century BCE when the Egyptians were in power and all of the power switches with the Roman Empire and the crusaders and Napoleon and the Ashkenazi Jews coming from Europe in the 19th Century and settling here in Jaffa and cholera and the founding of Tel Aviv close by and expulsion of the population of Jaffa (Jews and Muslims) by orders of the Ottoman Empire and riots in the 1920s and Arab-Jewish unrest in the 30s and the Zionist takeover of Jaffa to incorporate it into the new state of Israel. But in 1968 a decision was made to rebuild Jaffa and old buildings were restored and parks were created. Naturally, it became filled with artist studios and galleries and lots of shops… and then young professionals followed, moving into modernized apartments in ancient buildings. The old harbor was restored, and tons of restaurants emerged; the old railway station is now home to restaurants as well. It’s a lively place, but I can’t help but wonder where all those low-income families (Arab and Jewish) went.
There are lots of murals that were probably vibrant a decade ago but are now fading and peeling; the galleries display pretty amateur art; and the prices of most goods are pretty high (unless they are “tacky.”) Still, it’s a fun place to be. I strolled through the flea market, which is really a web of streets lined with small shops. It’s an easy place to stroll and difficult to get lost, unlike places like the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul and the alleyways of cities and towns in Tunisia and Morocco or the African markets (really series of stalls) in cities like Nairobi. This is more similar to the souk at Khan al Khalili we just saw in Cairo, except that the streets are paved and the infrastructure is in good repair. It’s definitely a first world country, although I’m guessing that will not be the case when we visit Palestine and the West Bank in a few days (during our stay in Jerusalem).
Some of you asked about my comment a few days ago about never having visited Israel before this, given that I have travelled a lot. I’ll try to sum it up without going into a long personal autobiography:
I was raised in a Jewish household but we never belonged to a temple of synagogue; my father was quite schooled in Hebrew; my parents both spoke Yiddish when they didn’t want me or my brother to understand what they were saying—a great encouragement to try to learn some Yiddish. We ate “Jewish foods” and celebrated the holidays (without going to temple). My family were Ashkenazi Jews hailing from Romania (maternal side) and Poland (paternal side). If you grew up in NYC (Brooklyn) when I did and where I did (Boro Park), everyone was either Jewish or Italian—and we were sort of the same, except that they had Xmas trees and they had to study catechism. My brother was Bar Mitzvah-ed and forced to go to Hebrew school which he hated. It was never even discussed if I should go to Hebrew school because I was a girl. I was already in college when my brother had his Bar Mitzvah in a small Orthodox synagogue in our neighborhood. When I arrived for the ceremony, I was told I needed to go upstairs. Naturally, I protested and said I was the sister and needed to sit close in but was ushered upstairs. Frankly, and I’m not sure my brother even knows this, I left after a few minutes and came back for the party. My first sense that Jews (well, ok, Orthodox Jews) are sexist. My family never traveled (Pennsylvania was a big, exotic trip to see relatives in Philadelphia) so no one in my family ever went to Israel, and frankly I had no interest in coming here over all these years of travel to other places around the world. I was, however, (surprise, surprise) married by two rabbis in a reformed temple in Manhattan, and that was important to me at the time. So, firstly, I’m one of those Jews who doesn’t feel any attachment to Israel. According to some new poll, I’m part of the 16% of American Jews who feel that a connection to Israel is not essential to being Jewish.
And, from a political point of view, I have never supported the politics nor the actions of Israel over the years. Indeed I have been critical of its actions during my lifetime – the 1967 six-day war and its current occupation of the West Bank, East Jerusalem, and the Gaza strip.
Over these many years, I have rejected traveling in several countries—I didn’t go to Spain until after Franco died; I didn’t go to Chile until Pinochet was out of power; I didn’t go to South Africa until the end of apartheid. Still, I can be charged with inconsistency; I visited the Soviet Union in 1972 when Brezhnev was in power, and traveled to numerous Latin American countries whose governments were less than acceptable. And maybe that’s part of the reason I didn’t travel to Israel until now; I hoped for more from a country that has some kind of potential personal connection to me, But, hey, I expect more of my own country, and I continue to live there (albeit trying to be part of efforts to change our country).
Way too much information, and way too little on the fact side. I’m here now at this moment (despite it probably being the most vile political moment with the installation of Netanyahu and his far-right doctrine) because you only live once, and I’m curious enough to want to see as much of the world as I can. I’m also here because we had decided to go to Egypt and Jordan and Israel was too close not to add it to the itinerary.
OK.. that’s it.. enough soul searching. We’re off to dinner at a place highly recommended by many foodies— Popina.
Stay dry (those of you in CA).
Fern
PS – Mike is very happy to report that there is an abundance of benches in Jaffa and also handrails on the staircases! Small things that apparently can do wonders for one’s spirit.
Greetings – and Hope all of you in California are dry and safe.
4 January 2023 at about midnight in Jaffa, Israel, following a great dinner.
We left the Kempinski Ishtar at about 1:30 without ever having a massage and without our feet touching the Dead Sea… but that’s fine. We had a bit of a mishap as we left the hotel. Like all “tourist hotels” (those that are large and foreign owned) in developing nations, there is a lot of security (due, I suppose, to fear by the hotel and a sense of security for guests). We generally don’t stay at these hotels and find the whole process quite annoying and unnecessary. Anyway, to get out of the Kempinski Hotel, cars must wait for physical barriers (that are electronically operated by security guards) to be lowered so that the car can move forward. At Kempinski this barrier is actually in two parts. In addition, there is a vertical electronic gate that slides. For cars, they just lower the right-hand half of the barrier, and they open the gate. We waited while they did this, and the guard motioned for us to move forward which Mike did. But as he moved forward (with the guard standing directly in front of the car) we scraped against the vertical fence which was not completely retracted into its slot.
We got out of the car, surveyed the damage and then the guards came to look at the car. It was scraped and dented as well. The guards initially stood there and talked to one another in Arabic and said to us “Everything OK?” I said, “Not really, we followed your directions and that caused us to scrape the car on the passenger side.” Finally, they said they needed to call a manager and we waited a few minutes and then said we had to leave to get to the airport, for fear we’d miss our flight (there is only one nonstop flight a day from Amman to Tel Aviv). We said we’d deal with this with management when we got to our destination, and off we went. We felt pretty confident that everything would be OK, especially since we paid for extra insurance, in addition to whatever coverage we have from American Express or our regular car insurance. And remember— the car was all scratched before we started to drive, so in some ways we figured no one would even notice more scratches.
The drive to Queen Alia Airport (Amman) was quite easy. The road is good, and the signage is excellent. Hard to get lost. And we used GPS in addition to the road signs.
When we got to the car return, they immediately saw the damage and said these “particular” scratches and dents were not on the car when we picked it up. We didn’t have much to defend. So, we were charged 350 JOD (about $500) immediately for the damages. We had no choice except to pay and to deal with it later. Actually, I just sent letter to Kempinski asking them to take responsibility for staff errors. We shall see what happens.
While at the rental car return desk, after we expressed disappointment with the immediate payment and the fact that the insurance we paid for didn’t kick in (apparently, you need to contact the police for any damage to the car and then the insurance will cover this; another thing that the Kempinski people didn’t do or tell us to do… and that the rental car folks didn’t tell us. They did tell us that if we were in an accident we needed to call police.) Mike was irritated and I suggested he take a walk at the airport while I talked with the guy. He was just doing his job. Later, as we settled on the fact that we had to pay the bill in the moment, the guy asked if we had enjoyed Jordan and I said “very much.” He asked if we’d return and I said we’d love to but it’s a long trip. He gave me his personal information and said his family has a big house and that if we return (which he said he hoped we’d do), we need to stay with his family!! I said we travel a lot, so he should be careful what he offers. He said.. that he was totally serious and hoped we’d come and visit and stay with them. They enjoy meeting foreigners.
Anyway, made it to Tel Aviv quickly; the flight is about 45 minutes and they serve a snack! Royal Jordanian Air is very efficient and organized. Airport security at Amman is tight and you go through about three security checks. Arrival in Tel Aviv was a bit chaotic, but easy – lining up to get the B2 Card and then some kind of entry pass from one guy which you then hand to another guy about two minutes later. No hassle with bags or with additional checks at Tel Aviv. As we emerged into the airport waiting area from security, there was a lot of singing and dancing—a group of about 40 youngish men (conservative Jews) in a big circle. Not sure if this is a common occurrence, but they were definitely in fine spirit. Passengers emerging from flights included a lot of orthodox Jews and Hasidim (bedecked with large hats, women in wigs, and lots and lots of children)— a lot like Boro Park, Brooklyn, where I grew up.
Anyway, we got into an “official” taxi and headed to our hotel in Jaffa – Market House Hotel. It’s a small hotel with a little bit of an artsy approach. Quite laid back with 24-hour lobby bar that serves complementary wine or other drinks (which is nice, especially after coming from two countries where alcohol is not necessarily served). Our room is fine, but a far cry from the Kempinski or the W (and less “elegant” than the Riad in Cairo).. but from what we could tell in the dark—is located in a great area here in Jaffa, that I’m sure we will love walking around tomorrow.
We have a long list of recommended restaurants, but while in the taxi I googled for restaurants close to the hotel and we wound up at Old Man and the Sea which would be open til midnight and sounded good. Apparently, there are two locations and we thought we were going to the one that is at the port and nearby, but we had called and made a reservation (which we certainly didn’t need) at the other location which was about 20 minutes away. Mike’s developed a bad cold and didn’t want to walk, so we hailed a cab (although we walked back). It turned out that the driver had lived in the states (Boston and DC) for about 5 years,. He was working with some Jewish organization that encouraged Jews to visit (or maybe to move to) Israel (Aliyah?)
The restaurant was very large and unadorned… Nearly all the patrons were Arab/Palestinian; we were definitely the only non-locals. The space was a bit reminiscent of the old Spengers in Berkeley—bright lights, big tables, lots of waiters milling about. Our table was immediately filled with literally 24 small bowls with every imaginable dip, spread, marinated vegetable, and fresh pita bread—definitely enough for a full meal, but then the menu came. We had a very simple grilled sea bass and Israeli wine. Everything was great, and we enjoyed watching the families eating at 9 and 10:00. We also indulged in a chocolate souffle for dessert (which came unexpectedly with two scoops of ice cream). We rolled out of the restaurant at about 10:45 and walked back to the hotel. Now the hassle of dealing with the car issue.
Best-
Fern
Greetings from the Dead Sea (again)-
First, we have been following the rains in California and hope you are all dry and safe. A little anxious about our house and especially our basement.
This morning, following breakfast we headed out again to Petra to see it in daylight. We drove ourselves down the winding road, which was –at times—fogged in and at others opening to bright sun. We retraced our steps through the sig which –after walking between narrow, high-walled canyons, the path suddenly open up at the 360-foot high Treasury (which is called that name because it is believed that a pharaoh’s treasures are concealed in this space). Still, it appears that no one is certain what purpose the building (constructed in the 1st Century BCE) served. But the urn at the top definitely represented a memorial for royalty. Some archaeologists think the building was a temple; others say it was a place to store documents; recent excavations have unearthed a graveyard beneath the Treasury. It looks as if there was some Greco-Roman influence when seeing the soaring columns and the “raked” pediment atop the columns. The trade routes caused all sorts of cross-pollination and you can see this at the Treasury. In any case, it’s spectacular. Definitely memorable.
Had we arrived earlier yesterday, we would have walked to the Treasury (as we did today), and then probably would have taken one of the little carts directly to the Treasury today… and then walked deeper into the site. But given that we had now hiked to the Treasury twice (once in darkness, save for the little candles placed about every thirty feet and once in daylight) – with a change in elevation of 500 feet (all downhill going and all uphill coming back) it would have been too much to walk beyond that part. Petra is a photographer’s delight; every step and every turn is photo-worthy.
Then we headed out to get back to the Dead Sea. Everyone we asked said the fog we experienced yesterday was an anomaly, and we considered staying another night at the Bubble (although many stories to tell about sleeping in the Bubble)—despite pretty bad dinner and mediocre breakfast so that we’d have more time at Petra…. But we feared that if we did hit fog, we’d miss our flight to Tel Aviv. When we asked how long the drive would be from the Bubble to Amman Airport, the responses varied between two hours and four hours. People living near Petra don’t get to Amman too often, so their information was a bit skewed. Anyway, we opted for the “safe” solution and decided to head back to the Dead Sea for the night so that we’d have an easier (one-hour) drive to the Amman Airport the next day.
Good thing we made that decision!
The drive from Petra was just as fogged in and drizzly as it was when we took the road yesterday. Visibility for at least two of the four hours was nil. But Mike has become an amazing driver when there isn’t any way to see more than 10 feet ahead and without any road markings. We got lost briefly but the GPS rerouted; only problem was that there was a detour where a road was washed out that the GPS didn’t seem to catch (amazing it was able to do as good a job as it did), but after we made a few strategic and not so strategic turns, the trusty GPS found us and got us onto small roads (really small, some dirt) and eventually back to the “highway.”
We got back to the Kempinski Ishtar at about 5:30 just as the sun was setting—tired, chilled, and ready for massages. But alas, we were too late to get a reservation for any treatment at the spa. And it was cold and damp so no real interest in swimming in one of the five or six pools here… and too cold to dip into the Dead Sea. So, we are probably the only people who have now been to this spa resort twice without getting to the spa. The irony of it all is that this night we are actually staying in the spa building… in a wonderful panoramic view room (so we can see the Dead Sea clearly and without any obstructions). Because we are in the spa building our room comes complete with yoga mats and little weights and extra space for two people to be able to lay out their yoga mats! Those of you who know us will know that these amenities are unlikely to be used.
We had a nice dinner at the hotel’s Lebanese restaurant – a wonderful eggplant appetizer that they called musakka but which is like a cold dip, and shared a really good lamb shank (removed from the bone) with great spices and served with a cucumber yogurt.
We will drive to the Amman Airport tomorrow at about noon and head to Israel (my first trip there, despite having visited about 75 countries around the world—long story as to why I had decided not to visit and the real reason I’m going this time). By the way, I think that Jordan has never seen handrails for stairs. So going down steps is sometime scary—lots of marble and smooth surfaces that are really slippery when wet, and lighting is never really that bright, so navigating stairs is interesting…even at the hotel where our room is up about 20 steps there are no railings. Given that I have a history of twisting my ankle on stairs (did it in Paris, in Uzbekistan, and in California) I’m always a bit cautious. Don’t want to be in that black boot ever again!
All the best.. more from Israel. We return home from Israel, where the right-wing is in power and where the far right national security minister has already drawn international condemnation by his visit to the Noble Sanctuary (as its called by Muslims; Temple Mount, as it’s called by Jews)—a move considered to be an Israeli provocation by Muslims. From what we are hearing on television and online, the security minister stated that Israel “will not surrender to a vile murdering organization…” and that “times have changed; there is now a government in Jerusalem.”
Oh well… we shall see what our days in Israel bring.
Fern
PS – Small world. The guy who manages the Bubble hotel was very excited to see on my passport that I was born in NY. He lived in Queens and Staten Island for most of his life. He’s only been in Wadi Musa (Petra) for a few months and only in Jordan for two years. Apparently, he came to the US at age 10 with his parents. But he never applied for citizenship (details unclear). A few years ago he started the citizenship process.. Then his mother, who had returned to Yemen (the family is from Yemen) got very ill and he decided to return before she died. Now he is stuck and is quite desperate to find a way back to the states. He came to Jordan because his sister is here. He sounds like he is from NY.
Greetings from Bubble Luxotel, outside of Petra, Jordan
We left the Kempinski Ishtar Resort after breakfast and headed onto the road to Petra. GPS said it would take close to 4 hours. Initially the road was fine, and the sun was out. As we drove, we saw amazing geological formations and incredible views of the Dead Sea. We passed small villages and roadside stands that were old and worn, and a lot of agriculture that was living off the water that was supposed to go into the Dead Sea (which is rapidly shrinking in size, as much as 4 feet of depth per year. It is possible that the Dead Sea will disappear in about 100 years.) It was smooth sailing.
About two hours into the drive, as we ascended into the mountains, a thick fog emerged bringing visibility to about 10 feet for long stretches and forcing us to drive about 12 miles an hour. The fog kept getting worse and we contemplated turning around, or even sleeping in the car. There were some other cars on the road and even a very large tourist bus—also going fairly slowly, though perhaps a bit faster than us. The road was pretty curvy and not marked all that well, although for long stretches there was a yellow line on the edge. In some cases, there were guard rails because of the steep drops into the canyons (which we could not see), but not everywhere.
Picture driving on California Highway 1 without guardrails or road markings in pea soup fog between Mendocino and Bodega Bay.
Just as we descended on the other side of the mountain– about 10 miles from the Petra area, we emerged out of the fog and bright sun emerged. It was incredible. So, we drove the narrow little road to our hotel: Bubble Luxhotel (about 15 minutes from the entry to Petra). The drive took more than 5 hours (at least 3 hours in the fog). But here we are.
We are staying in a three-dome room /three inflated bubbles. To get into the “room” you need to open one door that gets you into an “air-lock;” you need to close that door before opening the actual door into our “home;” if you don’t do that, pressure gets lost and the dome starts to collapse. We have a bedroom (queen bed) in one bubble, a bathroom in the second bubble, and a sitting room with couch in the third room. All three bubbles are connected, creating a foyer of sorts between them; the bubbles are “zipped” together. There is also a private hot tub on our deck, which I don’t think we will use given that the temperature outside is currently (at 6:00) 45 degrees and dropping.
Given the fact that we arrived around 5 pm and the sun sets around 5:40, we decided not to go to Petra immediately. It turns out that there is a Petra “light” show on Monday nights (tonight) at 8:30 pm. Apparently, they light the space with hundreds (thousands?) of candles and you walk in with a guide and walk back out two hours later. We will take a taxi to get there so as not to have to drive any distance in the dark.
So, we decided to go to what is called “Petra by Night.” We had a taxi take us from the Bubble Lux to Petra—about a 15-minute drive in the dark on very winding roads which the driver took as if it was the Indy 500. He was a local and explained a few things about what happened when Petra became a UNESCO Heritage Site; there were about 40 families still living in Petra at the time and the government (or maybe UNESCO) built them each a house and agreed to pay for water and electricity for life for those 40 families. The driver made some reference to the fact that his grandparents and prior generations had lived in the caves in Petra as well, but not at that particular moment and they did not get anything in the way of compensation.
We hiked into Petra to what is known as the “Treasury;” about 3.8 mile round trip… in the dark with the path lit only by candles (sort of like the Candelaria they use in the Southwest)—1,500 candles lighting the 1.9 mile path (in each direction). It was a difficult walk as there are a lot of rocks and unknowns on the path and areas with large smooth stones (perfect for slipping and spraining one’s ankle, which I have done way too many times while traveling). But we made it. It’s an amazing sight, making the nearly four-mile hike on rocky terrain and the impossible and death-defying drive worth it.
The Treasury is the building/structure most photographed in brochures and other materials about Petra. Once at the Treasury, there was a concert of ancient music, but we decided to begin the walk back, since we walked more slowly than most of the other visitors to this event (they were mostly Italians in their 20s and 30s). I couldn’t help think—as I looked at the ancient structure—that the Nabataeans might be turning over in their graves (or tombs) at the site of this structure being lit in bright colors against the Petra night sky. But it was a good chance to visit Petra in a different setting than what we’d see today in daylight.
By way of background Petra was founded more than 2,000 years ago. It had been the trade center—bustling with life and markets that sold goods from India, Arabia, and Egypt, and gardens and houses that showed the wealth and power of this trade center. Actually, the story of Petra begins with these Arab nomads—the Nabataeans—who lived off the land and got income from herding camels, sheep, and other animals. Over time, the Nabataeans, with their sharp commercial skills, became successful traders—moving spices and incense from Arabia to Egypt and the Mediterranean Sea. The Nabataeans were also skilled at collecting and distributing water with rock-cut channels and underground pipes. They also developed ways to collect and store water.
The “sig” (the path you take into Petra and to the Treasury) wasn’t carved by humans; the narrow gorge that leads into Petra is a natural wonder.
We returned to the BubbleLux at about 10:30 pm. It’s been extremely cold, windy, and damp during these past few days in Jordan.
Bubble Luxhotel is really like being on the moon.
We were supposed to stay just one night, but we thought we’d get here by 2:30 and head to Petra for a few hours, returning after sunset. But now, we are thinking of staying a second night to be able to get a full day tomorrow at the site. If we leave tomorrow and head back to the Dead Sea for a night, we’d only have about 5 hours at Petra tomorrow and we know that’s not enough time. Still, if we stay the extra night, it means driving from Petra straight to the Amman Airport to catch our flight to Tel Aviv. We will figure it out tonight. It’s risky to have to drive straight to the airport—in case of any problems on the road. On the other hand, we’re not that interested in a second night at the Dead Sea or in a resort. Ah, the problems of making such decisions.
All the best –
Fern
Greetings and Happy 2023
Last night’s birthday / New Year’s Eve dinner at Fakhreldin (Amman) didn’t disappoint. Getting to the restaurant was interesting; we actually took a hotel taxi as opposed to a local taxi, sine it was clear that getting close to the hotel was going to be complicated if drivers didn’t have appropriate “access” to get into various streets around the downtown area. The 10-minute drive took about 30 minutes with a lot of U-turns and bypassing normal routes to avoid traffic and street closures. By the way, started the meal with Arak – a translucent, unsweetened aperitif that is anise flavored; good and strong. Alcohol is far more prevalent here in Jordan than it was in Egypt, although the wine selection is generally thin. Jordan wine is not to our liking so we’ve been sticking with South African cabs and various Italian wines that they offer.
Fakhreldin is in a house built in the middle of the last century and is one of the oldest houses in the neighborhood. It is set back from the street and like other impressive houses built for the wealthy, was designed to overlook the street and passersby. We were at the restaurant at midnight and by the time the revelry ended, and we reached our hotel it was after 2:00 am. We crashed.
This morning we left our “marvelous” room. When we checked into the hotel four or five days ago, the receptionist told us we were upgraded to a “marvelous” room, even though we had booked “only” a “spectacular” room (they really use these terms). We laughed and asked—purely out of curiosity– if there was something even better than marvelous, or what the other categories were, and we were told there were also “magnificent” rooms. Anyway, given that we didn’t sleep much and that we knew it would take time to get our rental car (our plan was to drive straight to Petra—about 4 hours south of Amman), we made what I think was a smart decision: we would stay overnight at the Dead Sea tonight, and drive on to Petra tomorrow (Monday), get there by early afternoon and stay one night instead of two nights, and leave Petra on Wednesday, mid-day, as planned.
We picked up our rental car (Sixt) at the Amman Airport and that was a scene. The car is several years old and has lots of dents and scratches. The guy who checks out the car to note all the damages was circling every part of the diagram, and then he said—“a typical Middle East car.” So, I don’t think there will be any problem if we add a few more scratches. They also take an advance, refundable deposit—in case you get any traffic tickets while driving the car.
And then we were off. The rental car place gave us a little Wi-Fi hotspot gizmo that we plugged into the USB slot and that enabled us to get a strong GPS signal. Since we now had only about an hour’s drive to the Dead Sea, we decided to take a small road as opposed to the Sahara Desert “Highway.” We drove on pretty bumpy, rocky roads and went to Madaba, an ancient town with a population of about 60,000. It dates to the Middle Bronze Age and was ruled by the Romans and Byzantine empires from the 2nd to the 7th centuries; it has a large Christian population. We drove through narrow, dirt streets to get to the top of the hill and parked so that we could walk to the St. George’s Greek Orthodox Church which is known for its incredible mosaics. The church itself is pretty modest and only about 150 years old. But when they were building the church, construction workers came across the remnants of a Byzantine church. Among the rubble the flooring that was discovered wasn’t just an ordinary mosaic. It was the oldest map of Palestine and scholars say it provided many historical insights into the region. The map dates to 560 AD and depicts major biblical sites in the region. There are also many other mosaics throughout the church.
From Madaba we continued on this older, smaller road – through lots of rubble — until we eventually joined in with the “highway” and found our way to the Kempinski Ishtar hotel right on the Dead Sea. After checking in and getting our room, we walked down to the water (naturally we don’t have bathing suits with us, since we never find ourselves in ‘resort-like’ settings) and surveyed the massive hotel grounds that meander and meander. We stopped for a snack in one of the three restaurants on site. When we checked in, they said there was an Italian restaurant, a Lebanese restaurant, and an ‘international’ restaurant. We stopped at what we believed to be the Italian one. We asked the waiter, but he said (in limited English) that this used to be an Italian restaurant but was now Mediterranean. We sat and looked at the menu which was all pastas and pizzas. We also asked about the International restaurant, but he said that was now Mexican (?) In any case, there are Italian, Lebanese, and “international” restaurants on site. We decided on Lebanese for dinner, and it was fine.
There is a big spa here with many different offerings. Most likely we will try something out when we return for one night, after Petra. I figure I’ll be in need of a good massage by then.
For those of you who were shocked that we were driving ourselves—the roads are good, it’s not crazy driving as it is in the cities, and we’re glad we’ve got the independence to come and go as we please and to stop whenever we want. We’ve driven in far more complicated situations in other countries. So, unless it gets more difficult as we get to Petra, I think it will be fine.
All the best for 2023 and beyond.
Fern
14. The Other Amman… And Happy New Year. 12/31/22
Happy New Year –
Taking a few minutes out to write up today’s report, before we head out to celebrate New Year’s (and my birthday).
Today, we decided to walk in the neighborhood close to our hotel (and to the upscale apartment and office buildings close by). It was like entering another world from where we walked yesterday amid the cluttered vendor stalls and markets, where everyday Jordanians were shopping and eating and visiting; where traffic was backed up at all times; where the smells of spices and fresh meats and fish could be sensed around us; where cats roamed free; and where kids hawked for people to chose goods from their parents’ shops.
One other thing, apparently on the day of or day before graduation (college, masters, doctorate), graduates pose with books that are clues to their academic years—technical, travel, etc.) and families and professional photographers photograph them.
Two or three blocks from our hotel is a giant indoor/outdoor mall that could have been dropped in from any city in the US, complete with stores like Zara, L’Occitane, H&M, Ecco, and of course McDonald’s, KFC, and Starbucks where Jordanians (mostly young with simple hijabs) lingered with lattes—computers going and everyone on the phone. And in this zone, there are marked pedestrian crosswalks, where cars actually stop or slow down .. sometimes. You could have been anywhere except for the abundance of hijabs and the occasional burqa. The Abdali Mall also acknowledged Christmas with Santas and decorated trees and other holiday goodies. After people-watching in the mall (watching burqa-clad women stroll past stores selling lingerie and mini-skirt outfits), we continued to walk from this upscale area (where likely the Jordanian 1- or 2-percenters live and where foreigners living in Amman probably reside if they are here with international companies). We walked past what looked like a very modern hospital (good to know in case of an emergency).
As we walked, the nature of the neighborhood changed quickly and we were soon back in the more normal areas of Amman – low rise, 5-story walk-up apartments, ground floor tine shops, traffic buzzing around and difficulty crossing streets. At one shop on a busy street, I noticed beautiful calligraphy on a table inside and lots of tools that calligraphers use. I looked inside and actually entered the space and made eye contact with the man I correctly assumed to be the calligrapher/owner. He didn’t speak any English but we sort of communicated. I explained that I was trained as an artist and I think he understood. By then he was showing us portfolios full of his work, and then he phoned someone and gave me his phone. It was his son who spoke English (fairly well). Obviously the father was now trying to sell us one of his works. The son soon arrived to be the translator.
The father seems to take on commissions to craft these artworks—all with Arabic letterforms. He does peoples’ names and he also does lovely poetry. It seems as if he charges by the word, and he is a well-known calligrapher in Jordan. Well, ofcourse, we just had to have something (especially since we had now been in the studio for about 30 minutes). The cost of doing both of our names was pretty steep, and the cost for one of Kahil Gibran’s simple one line poems was way out of our league. So Mike decided it would just be my name (after all it is my birthday). It would take two hours, so we headed to our initial destination (lunch at Najla’s Kitchen—a simple vegetarian restaurant about a 40-minute walk from the hotel, on what google maps called “mostly flat” but which required some pretty steep climbing uphill and when descending).
We arrived at Najla’s which was quite wonderful, but I think all this pita bread (which is beyond fantastic and made fresh everywhere) is very fattening. Turns out that the woman who runs the restaurant is from Austria. Najla is named for her brother-in-law’s mother (or maybe grandmother; the story was complicated) who was a great cook. The little restaurant is furnished with all of the stuff from the mother/grandmother’s house and they use her recipes.
After lunch, we strolled back to pick up our little calligraphic art piece (which we will frame and hang in Oakland). As it turned out he combined both of our names on the piece.
Now we are back at the hotel, packing for our drive to Petra tomorrow. We have a rental car and will drive ourselves. Wish us luck. We figure we’ve driven all through Thailand, and much of Latin America, so how much worse might Jordan be? We shall see and let you know. I’ll also let you know how our dinner at Fakhreldin tonight. It’s supposed to be the best independent restaurant in the city; the woman at Najla said we will love it. That’s a good recommendation for us.
More tomorrow
Fern
13: Amman. 12/30/22
Greetings from Amman –
Following a fantastic breakfast at the W, we set out for Darat al Funon, an arts space that was created from vacant historic houses and warehouses about 30 years ago. They have an outdoor theater and gallery spaces, and more. We took a taxi to “Paris Square” which is actually a traffic circle and walked from there.. all cobblestone streets and steep slopes. We were walking downhill. Passed all sorts of murals and little cafes, and lots of shops that were closed. I think this was the arts district. As we approached Darat al Funon, we realized that it, too, was closed. Friday is the official weekly holiday (I guess like Sunday in the US). So we just continued to walk in the direction of the Roman Theater (which was going to be our final destination.
But we were pleasantly surprised as we walked down narrow corridors and streets to suddenly empty out into what seemed like at least a mile-long strip of tiny shops and vendors in the street—with lots of offshoot smaller streets. We meandered for a few hours just taking it all in—spice shops and stalls, tiny shops that sold everything you can think of, herb stalls (Mike bought some kind of oil that is supposed to be good for the knees!; I bought some interesting soaps, including one made in Syria—the packaging on one of the soaps says that it “whitens”—didn’t get that one since I figure I’m white enough already), clothing stores, vendors with piles of tee-shirts just all jumbled up, food stalls, electronic stands, and of course many shops and outdoor stalls to purchase burqas and hijabs for women and long shirts for men. The vendors were all friendly and open to my taking photographs by the dozens; no one really tried to get us to buy anything even when we went inside to look at what was being sold. The streets were crowded and vendors were yelling what I assume were “marketing pitches.” And at the appropriate intervals, the calls to prayer were heard throughout the streets, but frankly the vendors and shoppers in this area didn’t seem to notice.
On one street we noticed really nice men’s vests with lots of pockets; Mike has several of those Scott-e-vests which are pretty pricey and he loves having all those pockets. We went into the shop and Mike is now the owner of a new vest that cost about 1/20th the cost of the Scott-E-Vest. Probably should have bought more than one, but always thinking about packing for our return (and we already have those three alabaster things).
In some ways, these shopping streets remind me of the major shopping street in my Brooklyn neighborhood in my childhood days (where my grandfather had a tiny shop that I remember well.. it began first as a pushcart, before my time). 13th Avenue in Boro Park, Brooklyn was a working class shopping street filled with small stores that were also packed with goods and with people. By the time I was growing up the pushcarts and outdoor vendors were mostly gone, but the shopkeepers all had “stands” outside their stores (sort of old-fashioned “promos” to try to get customers interested enough to come inside the store). My grandfather’s shop was big enough to hold about 6 customers at a time, because it was so filled with products.
By the way, we are getting pretty good at negotiating taxi prices. Today we paid just 5 JOD for basically the same distance that Mohamed charged us 25 JOD.
We eventually made it to the Roman Theater which seemed to be the gathering place for families of every conceivable part of the middle east. It’s quite impressive, built at the end of the 2nd century AD (when Amman was known as Philadelphia), at the direction of Emperor Antonius Pius who holds the distinction of never having had to lead the nation in war. The Theater seats 6,000, and was designed to be oriented toward the north to keep the sun off spectators. Spectators were separated in the seating area by class, gender, and nationality. The rulers sat closest to the action of the stage, the military got the middle section, and the general public including slaves, servants, and others squinted from the top rows. In reality the theater was designed so that there were clear views from all parts of the theater and the acoustics were excellent throughout the theater.
While we were people-watching a cop came by (perhaps to test his English) and told us that there are several “secrets” about the theater. One of them is that someone could stand at the far right of the stage and another person at the far left – approximately 200 feet apart—the two parties can hear one another perfectly; he referred to this as the “Roman-era mobile phone!” The people-watching was great; everyone taking photos with their phones and many taking selfies; strange to see photos being taken by women in hijabs and even burqas—a sort of culture clash of old garb and new technology.
After watching the action, including several kids playing football (soccer) in the “pit” we strolled to the plaza outside and eventually found our way back to the hotel.
We went to Sufra for dinner—which was quite good, only we ordered way too much. Two mezzes (a labneh with pickled aubergine and spices; and an arraya) and two mains (two different fetayeh which are cooked and served in clay pots); we ended with a simple dessert and herb tea. We also had wine; they didn’t show any wine list… just said they had red and also white. We had a local red wine which was simple and fine.
That’s it for me… signing off until tomorrow, New Year’s Eve.
Fern
Fern's Travel Notes 