There really is no comparison. Middle Eastern food makes American food look like a joke. It's like trying to compare fillet mignon with Gerber baby food. Pointless.
I discovered something new about myself on this trip. I realized that I have my dad's adventurous streak, and that I'll try just about anything, as long as it's not trying to crawl off my plate. And no, there were no creepy crawly things to be had. Farrrrr from it.
I lived in the Jewish quarter of the Old City in Jerusalem, so all the restaurants in that part of the city are kosher. And MAN was the food good! On a typical day, here's what a casual breakfast consisted of:
To Drink: Freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, orange juice, and lemonade. And I mean FRESHly squeezed. As in they took the orange, or grapefruit, or whatever fruit it was, and squeezed it right into the pitcher, no extra sugar. Just the way God made it, icy cool and sweet as juice ever was.
Starters: Freshly baked loaves of wheat bread, still hot enough to melt all the creamy butter your heart desires. And you haven't lived until you've put honey or strawberry preserves on it.
Main course: Vegetables are a big deal in the Middle East, so it's pretty common, if not expected, to have salad at every meal. But I don't mean that horrid bagged iceburg lettuce stuff with dyed purple cabbage pieces scattered in it. I'm talking about real, green lettuce, with fresh cucumbers and tomatoes, with olive oil and herbs as dressing. Then on the side are plates of green or black olives (whichever you prefer), fresh tuna fish, at least four different types of gourmet cheeses, and omelettes.
To finish the job: Coffee, of course, the best to be had. Your choice: Café Americano, Espresso (so strong you could stand your spoon in it), or my personal favorite, cappuccino. :)
And that was just breakfast.
Even though the days seemed longer while I was there, I felt like it was always time to eat something! But I could never complain. My lunch and dinner favorites were anything that came with pita and hummus (I would slather hummus on just about anything... it was kind of pathetic), and shawarma laffa, a kind of wrap with marinated chicken, lamb, or beef, with hummus, cucumbers, onions, and spicy sauces, all wrapped in a thin tortilla-like flatbread. Just thinking about it makes me hungry again. Sad face. :( I also got to try Arabic food, which was also fantastic, although slightly different in some of it's preparations.
Besides just tasting amazing, the wonderful thing about eating food in the Holy Land is the fact that food isn't just about survival, or eating for the sake of it. Meals are about family, about conversation, about just enjoying being with people.
And that's really the most beautiful thing about it.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Back home from home
WOW. It's been over a month since I've blogged last, and all thanks to the many adventures I've gotten to have in the most beautiful place on earth--The Holy Land! The most peaceful, meaningful, exciting, fun, breathtaking two weeks of my life got to be spent in the one place on earth where God Himself decided to become a human being. And I long for it even more now than I ever thought I would.
I'm just going to be real: as much as I want to, I simply CANNOT condense my thoughts, impressions, and experiences of my two weeks in Israel into one gigantic blog entry. So I'm not even going to try. Left to me, I could blog about that place for the rest of my life and still not be able to say enough. So I'll just start with one entry... for now, at least. :)
Over the next few entries, I'll try to touch on all of the major aspects of Middle Eastern culture that I experienced--the food, religion, personalities of the people, social dynamics, etc.-- because there were soooo many new and exciting things to experience! Today, I'll just talk about my overall feelings about my trip. That is, if I can find the words....
From the van ride to Dulles Airport, I was already starting to feel this growing excitement deep inside me. I couldn't really explain or articulate it, so for the most part I just kept my thoughts to myself and tried to calculate how long our travel time would be. Before leaving, I was so stressed out with preparations, I didn't think I even had time to be excited. I mean, how could I be excited when there were 570,000 lbs. of clothes to iron and pack?! But from the minute we got on the road, I could feel something stirring inside me, a sudden eagerness to just get there. And not because I don't like planes. I like planes. I hate their food, but I love planes. I was eager because I felt like I was going to a familiar place of safety. I was going home.
On the plane, I stared out the window and tried to suppress the growing restlessness swirling around inside me. I whipped out my 4X6 inch lavender journal and sketched vigorously with a bold black Sharpie pen: "It's funny; most people see Israel as a dangerous place...and yet with every mile I feel as though I'm escaping to a refuge. Like even though Jesus is with me now, He's waiting for me there."
And wait for me He did, for His presence was everywhere. From the second I set foot off the plane, I felt different. More alive, like I was looking at everything for the first time. Even in the middle of the airport in Tel Aviv, (arguably the least holy city in Israel :D), I was just happy to be there and listen to the people yell at each other in Hebrew and Arabic. I was captivated by the sound.
As our sherut (the Hebrew word for a bus-like taxi van) drove through the mountains of Israel, I felt like I was in some sort of trippy dream. I, the American college kid from a teeny tiny town, was getting to go to the places where Yeshua actually lived. Um, time to be excited!
No words can describe how I felt when I first glimpsed the walls of Jerusalem. To be perfectly honest, I don't think I really believed what I was seeing; I just snapped shots with my little red digital camera like it was my job. And if I was losing words just looking at the place, I just about lost them all when I got inside the city and got a look at this at the top of the city wall: (click to enlarge image)
Hills for miles and miles and miles and miles!!!! Seriously, Jerusalem, and everything surrounding it for 300 square miles, is either on a hill or in a valley. ERRTHING. So if you're walking downhill and are starting to feel good, don't get happy. You about to walk right back uphill again!
But it was worth it. Oh, was it worth it! The endless hills, the hard, "new" cobblestone streets (in Jerusalem, their idea of a "new" structure is something 800 years old. I'm serious), the dry heat,--it was all worth it. Because the shalom, the peace of God there is so present it's almost physical. As our friend and host said on our first night in Jerusalem: "In a land where men once had hearts of stone, the stones here have hearts." He was right. Unless your soul is made of granite and iron, it is near impossible to go there and not feel something, anything! Awe. Wonder. Incredulity. Excitement. Shalom. And the sense of familiarity I had with the place--it freaked me out. I am arguably the most directionally impaired person, well, like, ever, and in this city with twisting alleys, dozens of shops that all start to look the same after a while, and streets narrower than some aisles in Wal-Mart, I could find my way anywhere after being shown just once. It was like it really was my home, and I couldn't explain how I seemed to know the place already.
And I fell in love with the people. Israelis, Arabs, Palestinians; I loved them all. Their dry sense of humor. Their hospitality. The fact that God is more than just the center of their life--He is their life.
As I upload more pictures onto my Facebook page, I begin to recall more and more happy memories of my time there. And even though I'm back home in the States, I know that I've still left a pretty good chunk of my heart in my other home, too.
I'm just going to be real: as much as I want to, I simply CANNOT condense my thoughts, impressions, and experiences of my two weeks in Israel into one gigantic blog entry. So I'm not even going to try. Left to me, I could blog about that place for the rest of my life and still not be able to say enough. So I'll just start with one entry... for now, at least. :)
Over the next few entries, I'll try to touch on all of the major aspects of Middle Eastern culture that I experienced--the food, religion, personalities of the people, social dynamics, etc.-- because there were soooo many new and exciting things to experience! Today, I'll just talk about my overall feelings about my trip. That is, if I can find the words....
From the van ride to Dulles Airport, I was already starting to feel this growing excitement deep inside me. I couldn't really explain or articulate it, so for the most part I just kept my thoughts to myself and tried to calculate how long our travel time would be. Before leaving, I was so stressed out with preparations, I didn't think I even had time to be excited. I mean, how could I be excited when there were 570,000 lbs. of clothes to iron and pack?! But from the minute we got on the road, I could feel something stirring inside me, a sudden eagerness to just get there. And not because I don't like planes. I like planes. I hate their food, but I love planes. I was eager because I felt like I was going to a familiar place of safety. I was going home.
On the plane, I stared out the window and tried to suppress the growing restlessness swirling around inside me. I whipped out my 4X6 inch lavender journal and sketched vigorously with a bold black Sharpie pen: "It's funny; most people see Israel as a dangerous place...and yet with every mile I feel as though I'm escaping to a refuge. Like even though Jesus is with me now, He's waiting for me there."
And wait for me He did, for His presence was everywhere. From the second I set foot off the plane, I felt different. More alive, like I was looking at everything for the first time. Even in the middle of the airport in Tel Aviv, (arguably the least holy city in Israel :D), I was just happy to be there and listen to the people yell at each other in Hebrew and Arabic. I was captivated by the sound.
As our sherut (the Hebrew word for a bus-like taxi van) drove through the mountains of Israel, I felt like I was in some sort of trippy dream. I, the American college kid from a teeny tiny town, was getting to go to the places where Yeshua actually lived. Um, time to be excited!
No words can describe how I felt when I first glimpsed the walls of Jerusalem. To be perfectly honest, I don't think I really believed what I was seeing; I just snapped shots with my little red digital camera like it was my job. And if I was losing words just looking at the place, I just about lost them all when I got inside the city and got a look at this at the top of the city wall: (click to enlarge image)
Hills for miles and miles and miles and miles!!!! Seriously, Jerusalem, and everything surrounding it for 300 square miles, is either on a hill or in a valley. ERRTHING. So if you're walking downhill and are starting to feel good, don't get happy. You about to walk right back uphill again!
But it was worth it. Oh, was it worth it! The endless hills, the hard, "new" cobblestone streets (in Jerusalem, their idea of a "new" structure is something 800 years old. I'm serious), the dry heat,--it was all worth it. Because the shalom, the peace of God there is so present it's almost physical. As our friend and host said on our first night in Jerusalem: "In a land where men once had hearts of stone, the stones here have hearts." He was right. Unless your soul is made of granite and iron, it is near impossible to go there and not feel something, anything! Awe. Wonder. Incredulity. Excitement. Shalom. And the sense of familiarity I had with the place--it freaked me out. I am arguably the most directionally impaired person, well, like, ever, and in this city with twisting alleys, dozens of shops that all start to look the same after a while, and streets narrower than some aisles in Wal-Mart, I could find my way anywhere after being shown just once. It was like it really was my home, and I couldn't explain how I seemed to know the place already.
And I fell in love with the people. Israelis, Arabs, Palestinians; I loved them all. Their dry sense of humor. Their hospitality. The fact that God is more than just the center of their life--He is their life.
As I upload more pictures onto my Facebook page, I begin to recall more and more happy memories of my time there. And even though I'm back home in the States, I know that I've still left a pretty good chunk of my heart in my other home, too.
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