Browsing Tag

travel

The rocky road to Amman

February 18, 2011

Our driver to Amman was a madman.

He was a driver’s ed video of what not to do on the road, the guide for how to not act behind the wheel.

First off, he only had a passing interest in the act of driving. What he was interested in, however, was changing CDs, texting on his cell phone, leaning across seats to chat with his friends. He held a notebook on top of the steering wheel and used a blunt pencil to scrawl very important notes. He often turned around in a yoga twist, his face looking toward the back of the bus.

The road itself was treated like an unsatisfactory lover. He gave it the occasional glance, scowled with his fat, furry lip, then turned away once again.

Though the highway consisted of sheer drop-offs and blind curves, this driver was too good to stay on one side of the road. His method involved a straight line, no twists or turns necessary.

When the fog settled so low that it shrouded potholes, lanes, even other vehicles, our driver gave it all the finger. He plugged ahead at full force, never even bothering to tap the brakes. I fumbled through my bag in search of Valium.

My friend Rosie said in Arabic, “Are you the grim reaper?” The question slowed him down for a good 90 seconds, then the moment of sanity passed.

When we arrived to Amman, pulling to a stop in the gritty outskirts of town, I would have kissed the ground. That is, if the driver wasn’t already handing my bags to a cabbie.

“This my friend,” he said, yanking his thumb toward the portly man.

Here we go again.

 

Jordan: The real magic kingdom

February 8, 2011

My main concern was getting out of Egypt swiftly and safely. I ended up evacuating to Jordan, where I decided to make the most of an unplanned detour and scheduled a few days of sightseeing.

I never planned to fall in love with the place.

I only wish I could have stayed longer in this friendly, phenomenal kingdom. The falafel was moist, the streets were busy, the stars in the desert sky practically threw themselves down on me. And then there’s the heaving, breathing beauty of Petra, where monuments are poised to step out of the mountains.

I know Jordan is a small country, but five days wasn’t nearly enough.

I’m sad that Jordan ended up being an afterthought on this journey. I promise to return someday.

 

Breaking bread

February 5, 2011

There’s a popular Egyptian proverb: “Baynaatna, khobz wa milah.”

Between us, bread and salt.

It means that if I break bread with you, I trust you. We have shared our traditions, we have nourished ourselves at the same table, we have been seated side by side — and so, there will be no fighting between us.

As violence raged in Egypt, with protestors all over the country demanding the resignation of President Hosni Mubarak, I was in desperate need of a little bread and salt. Though I was far from any danger, hunkered down in the little Red Sea town of Dahab, I was incredibly worried about gas, food, water and money shortages, and I was skeptical about my chances of leaving the country if the situation got worse. The government had already cut off the internet, there was little news coming our way, and the U.S. Embassy was absolutely no help. The lack of information was downright scary, and I didn’t know if it was safer for me to stay or go.

So on Sunday, I paid a Bedouin man to drive me out of there. He took me from Dahab up to the northern port town of Nuweiba. I was disoriented, upset, frightened.

The Bedouin man gave me food. It was what he could find and afford — hot dog buns, potato chips, fruit cocktail — and it was a feast, considering the circumstances. Before he left me for the night, he gave me a package of chocolate cookies and instant Nescafe coffee, a gift of nourishment for the journey ahead.

The next morning, I woke up in a seaside hut. I was cold, hungry, lonely. I was fretting about the ferry that was supposed to take me from Red Sea into Jordan. The stress made my stomach hurt.

Then another Bedouin man took me out for a typical Egyptian breakfast — fries, falafel, pita bread and fuul, a slow-cooked paste made from fava beans, tomatoes, onion, spices and swirls of tahini.

Sitting in a nameless cafe, I shared hot falafel with strangers and received sustenance that went far beyond the food.

Between us, bread and salt.

I’m not positive, but it might have been the best meal of my life.

To make your own Egyptian breakfast, try this falafel recipe — and then share it with someone.

Ingredients:

  • 1 cup dried chickpeas or 16 oz. can of chickpeas or garbanzo beans.
  • 1 large onion, diced
  • 2 cloves of garlic, chopped
  • 3 tablespoons of fresh parsley, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon coriander
  • 1 teaspoon cumin
  • 2 tablespoons flour
  • Salt
  • Pepper
  • Oil for frying

Directions:

(Omit these steps if using canned beans.) Place dried chickpeas in a bowl, covering with cold water. Allow to soak overnight. Drain chickpeas, and place in pan with fresh water, then bring to a boil. Allow to boil for 5 minutes and let simmer on low for about an hour. Drain and allow to cool for 15 minutes.Combine chickpeas, garlic, onion, coriander, cumin, salt and pepper to taste in medium bowl. Add flour. 

Mash chickpeas enough to mix ingredients together. You can also combine ingredients in a food processor. The result should be a thick paste.

Form the mixture into small balls, about the size of a golf ball. Slightly flatten.

Fry in two inches of oil at 350 degrees until golden brown, about 5-7 minutes.

Serve hot with tahini sauce, hummus or stuffed inside a pocket of warm pita.

 

Travel: It’s elementary

February 5, 2011

My sister has been playing “Where in the World is Maggie?” with her second-grade classroom, using my trip as a cool way to introduce the kids to different cultures and countries.

So a couple of weeks ago, while I was in the U.S. for family matters, I popped into the class for a surprise visit.

It was SO FUN. The kids were a delight, far more excited and engaged than I ever imagined they would be.

While I perched on a plastic chair, they sat around me in a half circle on the floor, asking smart questions like, “What’s the saddest thing you’ve seen?” “What do people in Uganda get for Christmas?” and “How do the kids dress in Egypt?”

They went nuts over a photo I took of a mummy foot inside the Egyptian Museum. (They especially loved the fact that it’s a “secret photo,” i.e. taken with my stealth iPhone, since photography is forbidden inside the museum.) And they oohed and aahed over my pictures of rhinos, gorillas and elephants. For the first time I could see my trip from a 7-year-old’s perspective, and it was a delightful change of view.

They had such innocent and insightful things to say about the world, and it was truly an inspirational morning. For them, I hope I’ve motivated them to learn more about other people and travel for themselves. And for me, it reinvigorated my trip — it made me feel like I’m doing something important and special.

Best of all, the class sent me off with a stack of fabulous thank-you notes.

Also, I need to give a big shout-out to Mrs. Klarer for constantly finding cool ways to help children learn. I’m incredibly proud of my sister. She’s the kind of teacher that kids remember long after they are grown.

 

The problem with women

February 1, 2011

While a revolution was taking place in Egypt, I was stashed away at a Bedouin camp, prepared to flee the country — and having one of the most bizarre conversations of my life.

I was sipping tea with the owner of the camp when he said …

HIM: Can we speak freely?

ME: Of course.

HIM: What do you call that problem of women?

ME: Problem?

HIM: Yes, where the stuff comes out of them.

ME: Like a baby?

HIM: No, the stuff! Like in here. (Pointing to his wrists).

ME: Oh, veins? No, wait. Blood? Ohhh, blood.

HIM: Yes! What do you call that?

ME: We call that a “period.” Or the more technical term is “menstruation.” Or some people call it “moon time,” but those people are hippies.

HIM: Ah. Period. (He suddenly looked very serious.) It is a problem.

ME: It’s actually healthy and normal.

HIM: And it is why women get eaten by sharks.