Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Feliz Navidad

This year I was invited to spend Christmas with Roisin's family. I got to decorate their Christmas tree. Aside from fulfilling a secret childhood fantasy (having been deprived of even a Chanukah bush in my youth), I also got to experience an Irish-flavoured Christmas. Both Roisin and I chuckled (later on skype) at how funny it was that I was spending Christmas with her family as her replacement, and she was in Jerusalem celebrating Chanukah with my fellow brethen!

I even attended Midnight Mass. I am completely guilty of falling asleep during the service, but in my defence, I wasn't the only one. The cherry on top was not understanding a single word the Head Priest had to say until he wished us all, "Feliz Navidad". I was reassured later - when in the car and out of earshot - that I too wasn't the only one lost.

Feliz Navidad!

The most fascinating part of this holiday has got to be the food. It is quite the production. On the Eve, Roisin's mother prepared roast ham flavoured with cloves and grapefruit juice, and an array of delicious trimmings too long to list. I thought this was the "big meal", until Roisin's father started to calculate at which hour the turkey needs to be in the oven the following day. Stuffed to the gills, we attended Mass to return home only to continue cooking. I helped Roisin's mother prepare the Christmas breakfast special until 3am in the morning! It pretty much is a monsterous casserole consisting of the following layers (bottom to top): wonder bread, leeks, green pepper, cheddar, bacon & ham (for the vegetarians, shitake mushrooms), another layer of wonder bread, soaked in an egg-milk mixture, topped with Special K cereal, and drenched with maple syrup. The name's "Christmas Morning Wifesaver". (It's okay to laugh).

For the millionth time, too much food was consumed and I was in need of exercise again! Using the dog as an excuse, Roisin's father and I took the dog out for a walk, when it was really us who needed to go for a walk. Roughly, 3 hours of it! We ventured along Homestead Trail, Seymour Trail and up around Rice Lake. One of the most magical hikes ever!

On the way up...

Frost evaporating...


A tree stump is a place for new growth...


Frosted tips on a cedar sapling...


Winter has arrived...


Meet Venus! She's part chow...


Frozen winterland...


It deserved a close-up...


Tiny frozen pools...


Shattering icerods...


At first, I thought this was cotton wood. Turns out, it's ice! I am guessing that moisture or sap emanating from this particular type of tree, at this specific altitude and temperature, freezes into fine puffs of ice, creating ice forms as fluffy as cotton.


Seymour river...


The riverbed...


Downstream...


Upstream...


Final destination: Rice Lake!


On the way back...

Remnants of a turn-of-the-century
logging community...


I wouldn't mind living under this tree...

That evening, we stuffed ourselves silly again, only this time with the traditional Christmas dinner of my dreams. On the table was a turkey with sausage drippings, decadent gravy, shitake bread stuffing, homemade cranberry-orange sauce, boiled purple potatoes, and spicey brussell sprouts. Although this meal completely reversed the good the walk had done us, it was well worth it!

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Bowser Trail

5 minutes from my back porch is Bowser Trail.


The entrance...


A funky tree stump...


The wood staircase...


The concrete staircase...


Merry Christmas to whoever did this!


Bylaw #5981...


Meet my father...


Along the trail is a creek.

During the summer, skunk cabbage grows here. Yes, it stinks, but it is not as hideous-looking as Eastern skunk cabbage!


Plant foliage...


A spider web on an ivy vine...


I used to be so scared of getting
anywhere near this tree!


To this day, I'm still scared of this hill!

This trail holds many good memories for me. As a child, I used to play in the park mid-way along the trail. Instead of going through the neighbourhood, I used to take the trail to go to the grocery store, and I have even used the trail (a.k.a. the stairs) from time to time in attempts to shed some weight. But my favourite memory of all time is walking with my father in the wee hours of the morning just after a fresh snowfall. Aside from the slight crunching of our feet on the light powder, it was dead quiet. The snow glistened in the moonlight as we strolled along. To this day, nothing has ever come close to match the essence from that walk. A pristine winterland. Easily one of the most magical experiences of my life. Glad to have shared it with you, pops!



Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Schtolen

I decided to come back to Vancouver in time for the winter holidays. The duration of my stay is still yet to be determined, although I know it won't be for too long, as I caught the travel bug real bad!

On the flight back, I took advantage of my 9-hour wait between flights, and ventured into the city of Amsterdam. I was excited to see a foreign European city, other than London for once, until the pilot said that it was a chilling -4 celsius below. Fear not! There was no way I was going to spend all that time in the airport like the last time. This time, I came prepared with two extra sweaters, two scarves, my trusty hat my grandmother crocheted, and a pair of stockings! I bundled up in a bathroom stall and B-lined for the tram.

The tram from the airport to Amsterdam did not have security, nor anybody checking whether you've paid your fare, and sported a puke green colour scheme. Although it did not compare to the state-of-the-art trains in Israel, it was already fun not being in the uncomfortable airport. Within 20 minutes, I found myself in the city that is famed for its red-light district and pot-friendly cafes.


The Westermark, I think...

Early on in my adventure, I made my way to Anne Frank's house to -sadly- be denied access because of my violin and backpack. I was told to check in my items at my hotel and to return later that day. I responded by saying that I just had 3 hours in the city between flights and simply can't do that. I even offered to pay for storing my items at the front desk, and that being Jewish, it's important for me to visit this site. The guard was definitely not a sympathetic man and told me to leave as he escorted me off the property in high Dutch fashion. My only comedic response was to say, "I guess I'll have to wait for the next time I find myself in Amsterdam for more than a day." There definitely was an outcry from the many Israelis lined-up outside; little did the guard realize what was being said about him and the establishment in Hebrew! By that point, I was so pissed off that I honestly didn't want to see it anymore. I must have been so shocked at being rejected from a site that hits close to home - having two Holocaust survivors as grandparents - I didn't pay attention to where I had stormed off to. Yet, if not for that mishap, I wouldn't have found the best bakery ever!

I was walking along - what I later identified as - Rozengracht Street and instead of getting a whiff of pot, I was blessed with the scent of fruit, brandy and yeast (a.k.a baked goods), and just as Toucan Sam followed his nose, I directed my body to the source. There, on the front counter was a log of Christmas cake with a marzipan middle, often refered to as schtolen. Fourteen Euros later, I felt as if I found the Holy Grail, and fittingly, I was arriving in Vancouver on my father's birthday...and who loves schtolen more than me?


Bikes and waterways...


Bikes stop for pedestrians...

It was getting close to lunch-time and I wanted to chow on some good food before heading back to the airport. I was hoping for Indonesian, but was shocked to not find any. I did pass by what looked like a great Thai restaurant though, but unfortunately, it was only open for dinner. Then, I passed by a cool Indian restaurant, but that too was closed until dinner. Every restaurant I walked by seemed to be closed until dinner, which didn't help matters. Hungry, I asked a local if there were any restaurants open for lunch in the city of Amsterdam. She confirmed my suspicion and noted that restaurants are only open for dinner here and that if I want to grab a bite, my best bet would be to find a shwarma place closer to the central station. What do Dutch people do for lunch? Do they bring a lunchbox from home everyday? I laughed at this, not just at the lunacy that nothing is open for lunch in a major tourist city, but that I wasn't about to eat a shwarma in Holland. Hell, I just came back from the land of shwarma! So, I settled for a slice of NY style pizza at the tram station before heading back to the airport.


A famous building or was it the one to the right?


The architecture is pretty phenomenal...

Close to the flight gate, a young girl at a beauty stand asked me if she could ask me a question. I knew very well that she was going to try and sell me something, but seeming as I had time to kill, I caved in. Turns out, she's an Israeli and everyone else at the stand was too. We all had such a laugh, when I spoke to them in Hebrew! The products were amazing, and on principal, I had to help support products from the Dead Sea!

I got home after what seemed like the longest flight in history. The truth was I just wanted to eat the Christmas cake already! The look on dad's face when I pulled out the red box containing the schtolen from my backpack and setting it on the kitchen table was completely worth it.

Freshly baked in Amsterdam that morning...

Consumed within seconds in Vancouver...

PRICELESS!



Paradise!

The Israeli-Arab town adjacent to my town of Zichron Ya'akov is called Faradeis, which translates to "paradise". Every Thursday, an open shuk (market) is constructed in what normally is a parking lot along the highway. Both Roisin and I were regulars on this weekday, coming to replenish our stashes of almonds, pecans, walnuts, cranberries, raisons, apricots, and prunes.


We went nuts over the nuts!

In addition to nuts and dried fruit, we stalked up on fresh produce: coconuts, clementines, baby bananas, persimmons, apples, and of course, cucumbers and avocados for sushi. The produce man would always greet me and inquire about my parents, as both my parents became and continue to be quite-the-talk-of-the-town being the only Israeli Jew and Japanese couple shopping at the market. The man would always shove an extra bundle of something in our bags just because. We never refused mint or dried dates!

It so happens too that my parents are close friends with the Mawasy family, a prominent family in Faradeis. As a result, Roisin and I received VIP treatment wherever we went with a Mawasy member.


Meet Papa Mawasy - the Intellect!


Meet Mama Mawasy - the Saint!


Meet Mazhar - the Loyal Friend!

Both Roisin and I became fixtures at the Mawasy household, located in the city hubub. The love I have for this family goes beyond words. Their big hearts, phenomenal graciousness and generous hospitality is what makes them so utterly amazing. At one point, close to twenty-five members of the family were living in the same house. Arabic house construction is quite different than the Western model; instead of each family having a separate house, each family gets a floor - the eldest son having the top floor and those that are still unmarried live on the bottom floor with Papa and Mama. In order to move up a level, you must get married, so there is significant pressure on the remaining siblings who are not married yet to get moving with it! While I was there, the eldest brother moved his family to their newly-built mansion at the top of the hill. Everyone in the family will eventually migrate there, but for now, some prefer to stay close to the city centre, where all the action is!


Although he's a force feeder, I still love him!


Roof-top view from the mansion...
On a nice day, you can see the sea!

With Mazhar, we enjoyed many adventures! You could say we were the three stooges. One adventure was going to the hot springs in Chamat Gedar on the Jordanian border. Another was going to Bat Galim to eat at one of the best seafood restaurants, combined with checking out the stunning views from Haifa's best look-out spot.


The Ba'hai Gardens...
Roisin and I will always remember the crows!

My all-time favourite was being invited by Mazhar's friend to a cave. Yes, a cave! Unfortunately, I don't have photos from this evening, but for fun, just imagine it's a full moon and you're driving into the middle of nowhere, climbing up a hill, and entering a tiny entrance into a cave lit by candles in the many crevices. An impressive sight! Sitting on carpets and cushions, I learned how to play the djembe drums that night, and each and every one of us jammed!

Another fun night was going for shwarma, which put every other shwarma I've ever had to shame!

Swimming in December also never failed to excite me. While at the beach (again the same beach where I got attacked by the mosquitos), we were visited by two large St. Bernard dogs, who clearly ruled the beach.


Everyone wanted to pose with these two celebrities!

Making fresh za'atar pastries was also another amazing experience. I learned how to expand and fold dough, oil it into shape and stuff it with fresh herbs, roll it out and bake it in the make-shift oven by the side of the house. A dish that is made only three times a year. I felt so priviledged!

And our last adventure together was going to another seafood restaurant in Quesaria called the Crusader's Inn. We ordered the seafood platter full of almond and sesame encrusted tiger prawns, deep-fried calamari, buttered-muscles, roasted eggplant, baked potatoes, and fire-heated pita! That night, the wind caused wild waves over the ruins of Quesaria that not a month earlier we enjoyed its calming effect.

We three vowed to meet again in the future, possibly as early as April in Vancouver - another paradise!



Monday, December 21, 2009

Yafo-licious!

We weren't having a particularly exciting, nor talkative morning due to sleep deprivation and being on the go non-stop for more than a month. Together, we strolled along the tayellet (sea promenade) in Tel Aviv. I lost my cellphone at a brief pit stop and had to run all the way back to retrieve it. It was already December and it was hot out. The decision was to see the old city of Yafo, south of Tel Aviv, before calling it quits for the day.

Who knew that the remedy to our weird and uninspiring morning was just around the corner!

It all started with a man in a yellow hat. (To get the full description and photo, you must visit Roisin's blog, as she made me promise her that this would be her story to tell - theworldthroughmyis.blogspot.com).

Minutes later while we sat down in the shade, we saw this man go to a nearby place. An interesting device captured our attention. Our ears perked up to live music emanating from this place. Feeling sympathy for Roisin's determination to get rid of coffee from her diet, I made her come with me to see if this place had coffee.

Not only was there coffee, there was freshly squeezed lemonade with sugar cane juice (hence the interesting device), an impressive selection of live recordings, and a charismatic owner named Shmuel.


A neon purple guitar sign marks the place...


The roof above the outdoor seating area...


The amazing sugar cane lemonade...


I sunbaked as Roisin sipped on coffee...

We were just about to leave when a man rode up on his bike to discuss his Brazilian band's upcoming concert at Shmuel's place. This led to Shmuel asking the man to play us banot (girls) a little something on his accordian. Roisin whipped out her trumpet and the afternoon was spent!


Musika!


Following a beautiful impromptu concert,
Shmuel treated us to a great feast...
(Note: the mystery device is top-left)


Musicians and music lovers...

We were invited to come jam with the Brazilian band that Saturday night. A thrilling, yet terrifying prospect for this classically-trained violinist! Saturday came around and so did rain showers. We arrived to find that the jam was over and the accordian player didn't bring his accordian. Despite this, music was made with a tambourine, a pair of congo drums, a trumpet and a violin!

Afterwards, we were treated yet again with food; however, this time, to traditional Brazilian fare - lamb, rice and beans.

Yafo-licious!

_________________________________

On our way out of Yafo, we found an art exhibit:

swinging white dresses,
heads made of mirrors,
dark archway backdrops,
and
real screeching bats!



I'm still weirded out...