Mealtime Moments

Dearest Rachel –

While I’ve been writing you mostly about the places we’ve gone, the things we’ve seen (many of which might be at least of nodding familiarity to you, having been here several times before), there are other things going on that have little to do with the trip itself. Or maybe they have everything to do with it; what we’ve been eating is different from much of what we’d be eating at home, and the conversation I’ve heard, overheard or haven’t heard is part and parcel of group travel to a place like this.

Admittedly, this kind of rubs my own nose in the fact that we’re not having breakfast this morning. We have to leave the hotel at six in order to make it to the airport in time to catch our flight, and they don’t start serving until six-thirty. But hey, that’s how things go sometimes. So enjoy these short bits about our little mealtime misadventures.

***

Overheard on our first dinner on Friday, from one of the other ‘old hands’ on the trip to a first-timer piling their plate: “Pace yourself. They’ll be serving all the same stuff each night, until you’re sick of it, so don’t eat it all at once.” And I thought the children of Israel were unique in their complaints about culinary monotony. And it’s not all like that from one evening to the next – but I suppose when you don’t recognize one dish from another, I get how it can certainly seem the same.

***

Saturday evening saw some of the group (those of us that arrived late, anyway – after being directed to where we were to sit, we passed by other members of the group who weren’t there) assigned to tables on the balcony.

***

I don’t think they make a point of it, necessarily, but the pastoral staff does tend to congregate at the same or nearby tables. It’s understandable, in a way – these are work colleagues, with a certain additional familiarity with each other. Of course they would gravitate to each other. But when I mentioned on Sunday at lunch about it, and how I didn’t want to interfere, they promptly disavowed any deliberate attempt, and invited us to join them.

***

Monday afternoon saw us in Jericho, at a restaurant that served carafes of lemonade with a thick foam of mint leaves, and a straw to stir it in with. I took the first glass (after stirring the concoction thoroughly, but I still got the lion’s share of the mint), and it might have been the best glass of lemonade I’ve ever had. Perfectly tart (although not as much pulp as some places), while the mint gave it an extra kick of flavor

***

For all that I wake up Tuesday morning with a mouth so dry that it might as well be stuffed with cotton, it never ceases to amaze me that breakfast juice and water are offered in these tiny little cups

At our briefing a couple of weeks before leaving, we were told that lunches would be ‘on our own.’ Since Daniel and I don’t generally do lunch at home, I wasn’t too, terribly worried about that; I actually thought we would wind up going without, browsing the shops, or something like that while people grabbed fast food at one place or another.

But I hadn’t considered that what that phrase was actually supposed to mean, is that the entire group would be eating lunch at one place or another together, but that the price of it was not included in that of the tour. Again, not a real problem for us, except that I hadn’t thought to bring that kind of cash with me beforehand (apart from the amount for tips), and as a result, I’m starting to run out. I’m wondering if I should stop by an ATM to replenish myself, but then there’s the question of whether they would accept x amount of shekels in lieu of dollars, and how much.

***

Lunch on Tuesday – if you can call it that – is a quick pickup at a local truck stop, because we’re short on time as we proceed to the City of David site underneath the old city of Jerusalem (everything closes at sundown, it seems, so we have to get there and go through it before four o’clock).  The place is what you might expect from a gas station in a middle eastern desert, complete with camels resting outside (Hey, as Columbo might say, “they’re transportation“).  They have a cafeteria, but the line is atrocious.  I just grab some chips and pastries, and we each select a beverage or two to try.  Daniel selects a couple of cans of fruit juice, and discovers he prefers the pear/apple/prickly pear mixture to the mango.

Pity he’s not going to be able to get that in a smoothie form, once he gets home.

On the other hand, based on the beverage I purchased here, that lemonade I enjoyed yesterday afternoon was basically a mojito without the alcohol. I’ll have to remember that when I get back and order it in mock tail form in the future.

***

Wednesday evening has Yael joining our table (where we are sitting with Maureen and Caressa). We talk for so long, that by the time we’re done, nearly everyone has cleared out, and they’re setting out the placemats and silverware for tomorrow’s breakfast. But we finally get to enjoy a truly leisurely meal with people (and while I still have to finish a letter to you, I’m just as happy to be decompressing before I do so). It’s wonderfully refreshing.

***

Thursday afternoon is a little weird. I mean, more so than just being on the other side of the world, eating a different style of cuisine than either of us are accustomed to on the regular.

***

Friday at noon finds us at a cafe in Bethlehem, where they play “Mary’s Boy Child” multiple times on their music system.  I mean, at least it’s not “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

I wonder if they play Christmas music throughout the year, or if it’s simply because “’tis the season.” We suspect they might do this year ‘round; Christmas is kind of their schtick, it would seem.

And in fact, according to our guide in Bethlehem, the city celebrates Christmas on three separate days. One, of course, is on December 25, with the Catholics (we Protestants barely register over here, due to our relative lack of history), then a second one on January 6th, celebrated by the Orthodox churches (and as Epiphany by the Catholics), and, since the Armenian church is shut out of their churches by the crowds on those two days, they celebrate on January 18th, when Jesus was said to have been baptized. He tells us his daughter complains to him about Jesus having three birthdays compared to her having only one; he points out that she’s not the Messiah, so she’s not entitled to extra birthdays like Jesus is.

At least I finally got Daniel a glass of fresh-squeezed pomegranate juice; he found it still a little sour for his liking. My fault for introducing it to him by way of soda syrup, I suppose.

***

So now, we’re standing around in the airport, waiting to check in. The hotel actually sent us off with lunchboxes, but as we’re not sure they’ll be allowed further into the airport, we had to eat what we could before running through security. In fact, we were among the last to go through; as a result, we got left out of the group photo. Oh, well… you remember how that was.

Anyway, by putting all these little clips together, this letter is a bit out of date, but I don’t see any reason to post to you about airplane food when Jerry Seinfeld did it so much better. So I’m going to let you go for now, and get back to you when I have something new to tell you about.

Until then, take care. Keep an eye on us, and wish us luck; we’re going to need it.