Progress

It has been a little while since I issued my challenge to you, my lovely readers. I wanted to update you on the progress of my book. As of today, I have a chapter finished and am working on the second. It's a slow start, but the journey has begun. Writing this particular story has been emotional for me in that it is so personal. I will share more as the book takes shape. However, I will say that this far the experience has been a scary roller coaster and also very healing for me. As I sit here in a coffee shop listening to Dog Days are Over by Florence and the Machine, I think to myself at how far I've come and dwell on the thought that by this time next year I could be published. I can't wait for the world to hear this story. It is a small piece of my past, my present and my future. I've also been working on some lighter pieces as of late. Someone recently suggested that I create a story out of all of my interesting experiences with the dating world. Look out for that one... it's sure to give you all some laughs when I put it all down on paper. All that being said, I am interested to hear all of you are moving along with your challenges? Please share in the comments how things are going. Also, check out this blog by my good friends Amy and Leah. They are just getting started, but have some great adventures to share as well.

Fighting the Fear Monster

Hello friendly readers. As of late I have been quite the slacker in posting. It was not for lack of inspiration, but due to fear. Odd, I know. Yet, fear is often the metaphorical thorn is many of our sides. Every time we begin to move forward it pierces deeper to remind us of its lingering presence. You see, words have always sort of been my thing. My mom told me I shocked people by being able to pronounce the name of the Southern California city I grew up in at the young age of 10 months. I began writing short stories and children's books at the age of six or seven. By the time I entered middle school, the rough draft essays I turned in were often accepted as final copy; and were used as examples for other students in my classes. That didn't always make me so popular with some of the other kids. I won both writing and speech contests and wrote poetry all through elementary and middle schools. I think the fear started to set in when I reached high school. We moved across country and was enrolled in a school with a higher level of education than my previous one. I had been bobbing along in my peaceful pond and suddenly found myself in a rushing river struggling to stay afloat. I didn't exactly drown, but my confidence did. I made it through university, walking away with double B.A.'s in political science and journalism. People are always amazed when they asked what degree I hold. I never understood why. I guess when you couple it with the fact that I worked to nearly pay off both degrees while studying it does sounds impressive. However, the point of this post is not to highlight my accomplishments. The point friends, is that of late I finally recognized that the only person who didn't believe I could make it, is me. The fear of making mistakes. The fear of failure. The fear of dreaming too big, or at all. For years all these things have stood in my way like an iron curtain. I simply never believed I always had the power to remove it. Many of my friends are graduating within this next month. I want to encourage them, and everyone else, to find a way to vanquish their fears and follow their dreams. Time is something that we can never get back. It is inevitable, unending, and passing more quickly with each moment. Therefore, do not waste it. We all have dreams, even if they have been buried deep down for some time. One of my dreams is to inspire change through words. For years the fear of failure haunted my thoughts every time I picked up a pen or opened a new document. Never again. This is why I am putting before myself the challenge of finishing at least one book by the end of this year. I challenge you, my readers, to find a dream of your own and set a time frame for yourself to make it happen. If you are ready to step out in faith as I am and work towards making your dreams reality, add your dream and prospective time frame to the comments section. We can be a support group for each other to ensure that all of our dreams become our realities. Who is with me?

The Russian Doll

It recently hit me that I have not updated my loyal readers for some time. So here it goes.

We shall begin with a bit of a funny story. A friend and I were in a hurry last week to make it to a hair appointment and neither of us was satisfied with what we had walked out of the house in. She had worn jeans with a blue t-shirt and red jacket and was not satisfied with the way the three items looked together. I, on the other hand, walked out in black leggings, boots and a tank top with a tan sweater. I am not the tiniest of girls (I mean reason my cooking blog is called "the curvy chef") and do not regularly wear leggings with shorter tops.

I told my friend I felt like my outfit indicated I belonged on a street corner, but she attempted to boost my confidence letting me know it did not look that bad. We then boarded a bus towards our destination. We exited the bus onto the sidewalk of a somewhat busy street. After walking for a moment or two, three guys pulled up and proceeded to roll down the windows of their car to yell "Hey, divitchka". This is the equivalent of saying, "hey, doll" in Russian. Upon hearing this, I turned to my friend trying not to laugh and said, "Not that bad, eh?" I have since bought some longer tops to wear with leggings.

More short stories to come.

Sushi, Booty Shaking and Americans

Hello my friendly readers. I apologize in taking so long to post. To catch you up... I have moved to a smaller city close to Tel Aviv. I am convinced this is the one place in Israel the one is more likely to be run over by a baby stroller than a car. It seems as if every young family in Israel lives in this city. The mothers take to strolling the streets and the mall in packs.

There is a small cafe in the mall at which I am becoming a regular. It is their amazing and cheap chai latte that keeps me coming back... and the grilled caprese sandwich. It's making me hungry even as I type this.

I have also consumer large amounts of sushi lately. I recently read an article that Tel Aviv is the third largest city in the world for sushi production and consumption; behind Tokyo and New York City. Just yesterday my brother and I shared a plate of four different kinds of salmon sushi.

Pastries are also in abundance here. A few days ago I picked up a shakshuka borekas. Definitions: Borekas: small baked puffed pastry pocket often filled with salty cheese and topped with sesame seeds. Shakshuka: slow cooked tomato puree, green olives, onions, and spices with eggs cracked open and hard boiled on top. This pastry fused both together and equaled mouth watering perfection.

This weekend I finally took a trip outside the city. Let's put it this way, 6 cities in less than 24-hours is tiring. It began with a trip with my brother to Jerusalem for a friend's birthday.

The night began with sushi (of course) and continued with dancing. Myself, I am not really into the club scene. However, my friend is so I decided to join in for the evening. I did not realize it would result in an unforgettable adventure.

The first club we went to, the DJ and his assistant (who seemed content to do nothing but scream, jump up and down and smoke a cigarette) were terrible. The guy played the same song three times. First, let me clarify. Clubbing in the States is different than here. In America one might here a variety of music. In Israel the songs are a long parade of techno music with lyrics that often cannot be understood or they just plain make no sense at all. After the same song three times over, our party was ready to move to a different club.

The second club, the size of a small bedroom, was packed with so many people it often felt like a mosh pit. It was not only the cramped space that made it hard to dance but also the guys who hit on me about every five minutes. The creepiest of which was about seven foot tall. He moved through the crowd, drink in hand, until he was standing directly behind me. When my friend asked if he wanted to pass through our group he simply stared and shook his head. He proceeded to stand behind me for a few more moments until he realized I wasn't going to give him the time of day and then moved on to the next girl who caught his eye.

I was told by my guy friends that I should consider it a compliment that so many guys wanted to dance with me. Myself and all of my girlfriends disagree. I said that they just saw blonde hair and blue eyes. My guy friend argued that he could barely see at all because of how dark it was. "Well then how could he even tell if he thought I was attractive?" was my retort. In the end, we simply had to agree to disagree. Perhaps you, my readers, would care to weigh in?

After we left the club, what was left of our group proceeded to my friend's home for the evening. Instead of taking a taxi we all decided to run and try to catch the "night line" bus at 3:00 AM. We were some of the first to get on the double bus that had an abundance of snack food sprinkled all over the floor and seats. As the bus continued on the route it quickly became jam packed...with drunk people. As the last girl in our group got her stub punched by the driver, a group of drunk guys pushed past; one nearly throwing up on her as he entered.

For the next few stops we were subjected to the interesting vocals of about forty drunk guys. After one of them kept running into the back door of the bus a security guard had to come calm them down.

It was a little much to handle so we got off and walked the rest of the way to the house. This was also interesting because when we first got off the girls weren't sure where we were in the city. By the time we got to the house, all I wanted was a nice hot shower to wash off the smoke odor that lingered. I was so determined in fact, I sat in a towel for fifteen minutes until the water was scalding hot. After my nice shower, a warm bed never felt so good.

A few hours later I was on another race to make it back to Tel Aviv and ready myself for my next trip to the north. It went like this: 30 minute bust ride to the bus station, hour bus ride to Tel Aviv, 30 minute walk to the apartment (technically in a different city), bus ride back to the same bus depot I was dropped off at, 30 minute bus ride to Kfar Saba, two hour car ride to the North. It felt like every time I blinked I was on a different method of transportation. In the end, it was well worth it to spend the weekend with two close friends. It was much needed quality time.

Last night a group of American friends decided to have a non-super bowl super bowl party at my brother's place. I say non-super bowl because it was 1:30 AM here when it began in the states and we all had to get up early. However, that did not stop our all American feast of chicken wings, mac n'cheese, seven layer dip, Doritos and and chocolate peanut butter dessert. Also in American tradition, we ate our fill and still had plenty of leftovers. I watched to half-time show and commercials this morning. How is it that the commercials were better than the half-time show this year?

Blue jeans+Chili Powder+ Restaurants on the water = Love

When I arrived in Israel, I noticed I had incurred several "war wounds" from the journey in the form of large bruises; mostly from lugging around suitcases more than half of my size. I had thought that most of them were healing...and then.

I was getting dressed a few days ago and noticed several areas on my legs that were dark blue. I began to panic a bit not able to understand where they had come from and why there were so many. I know what you are thinking; and no, I did not come to Israel to become a cage fighter.

I examined the bruises a little more closely and tried to remember what I would have done to cause them as I put on some lotion. Suddenly, I looked down at my hands and realized some of the dark blue coloring was on my hands mixed in with my lotion. As I stared I erupted in laughter in the realization that my legs were not bruised but simply dyed dark blue from my new jeans I purchased before the trip. Several showers later, my legs still have little blue patches.... thank goodness it's not swimsuit season!

Last Thursday I told the guys that I would cook them a nice dinner as a thank you for allowing me to stay in the apartment. Shopping in the supermarkets here is quite expensive so I took a bus to the city center to go the the shuk (open market). There I was mistaken for a Russian for the first time this trip. I lasted a week, it's actually a record for me.

Fruits, vegetables and spices are much cheaper in the shuk, along with other various tourist items (a good trip for travelers). I made them Mexican food; something difficult to find in Israel. I specifically needed to find paprika. In the open markets here they sell spices the same way they did back in day; big barrels or sacks full of spices that they shovel into bags as needed. There is something about standing around all those spices that just makes me feel happy. Perhaps it reminds me a little of home since we always have a stocked spice cabinet that we use daily to cook with.

I found one of the spice vendors and proceeded to search out the needed paprika. I had no luck finding it on my own. Upon asking the owner if they carry it she proceeded to the area where it was kept and began shoveling several pounds of the spice into a plastic bag. I'm thinking, I only need 1/4 cup, what am I going to do with all of this. I then found myself repeating the word less to her over and over until I think she finally tired of me, decided she wasn't going to take any more out and simply wrapped it up and told me how much I owed. Still puzzled by where I lost control of this situation, I handed her the money and continued about my way.

It had been raining all day. I noticed the water was beginning to seep into my boots and I decided I could not put off shoe shopping any longer. I finally decided on a cute pair of faux leather Rocket Dogs. They aren't as cute as my old ones, but they'll do the trick for now. On my way back to catch the bus home, a friend and I stopped in a vintage shop that I had never noticed before. This is odd being that vintage and I are like peanut butter and jelly, a match made in heaven (my pocketbook might disagree).

We browsed the racks finding all sorts of clothes from various decades including: an 80's Flashdance cut-ff sweater tee, a kimono, some flowy 70's skirts and some pretty funkified hats. The shop also had vintage furniture and accessories. My faves, an rotary dial phone and a 1950's green Frigidaire. The crem de la crem was a tan leather Dior handbag. It beckoned to me. Being that I had just purchased the shoes, I was forced to practice restraint. I might just have to go back though.... Stay tuned.

Anyway, back to the dinner. After our adventure in the vintage shop, I got back to the apartment quite late. I all the sudden noticed that I had forgotten to buy meat. I grabbed my purse and to the elevator down, happy that there is a supermarket next door to the building. I walk in and rushed through the aisles in a hurry to grab the package of beef and run back upstairs. I had forgotten that in smaller supermarkets here you have to stand at the butcher counter and ask them for whatever you need.

They have separate counters for chicken and for beef. I stood in front of the beef counter for a few minutes and then I realized that I had forgotten how to say ground beef in Hebrew. I had to make a call to my brother who couldn't exactly remember but said he was more or less sure it was "basar bakar". So, I walked up to the counter and asked if they had any "basar bakar". I couldn't figure out why he gave me such a blank stare. He finally asked "how much?". I stood staring for a moment, this was another question I had not figured out an answer to. After I gave him the amount he takes out a huge slab of beef and begins cutting it into chunks. I didn't have time to figure it out with him so I took the meat and went to check out. It wasn't until later that I realized I stood at a counter full of beef and instead of ground beef simply asked if they have any beef... yeah. No wonder he treated me like I was an idiot.

Checking out was a whole other ordeal. I have been in that supermarket three times now. Each time I've gone through the express lane and had the same checkout girl; an Arab woman in her late-twenties. For a reason that I cannot even fathom this lady seems to hate me. The first time I went in she just gave me a nasty look. The second time, I was with my brother. She smiled at him and gave me another nasty look. This time she finished with the customer in front of me, gave me another nasty sneering look when she saw me and then proceeded to take a break and send a few text messages while I stood waiting. When she finally got to ringing through my items she only rang half and asked, "anything else?" I told her, "Yes, the rest of the stuff on the conveyor belt!"... another nasty look. I honestly do not know what I did.

When I finally got dinner made, the guys were excited and grateful for the Mexican food. They had gone back down and bought some ground beef and the paprika the woman in the market sold me turned out to be a very spicy chili powder that made even the guy's eyes water. It was a long and interesting day, but it ended well and with very full stomachs.

The weekend brought more excitement. Friday night my brother, one of his roommates and I took a walk around a nearly vacant city. Everything shuts down for the Sabbath here. It was nice just to have a moment of quiet. It is always so noisy in this city.

Last night was a little more eventful. In the afternoon we watched the movie "What Happens in Vegas". I identified with the character Joy, who quit her job because she had decided that she was determined to be happy. She was also extremely Type A, like myself. Leaving everything and starting over is not an easy thing for our kind. The movie inspired me and I told the guys that I was going to change and when I was done we were going out. No there was no binge drinking, riding in limos or spur of the moment weddings like in the movie. We took a taxi to the port area and walked around. We ate at one of the best burger places I've been to here and then had some coffee and another shop. Pretty tame compared to the movie in fact. The important part is that it made me happy to just be out with friends telling stories and laughing. Also, seeing the water there was amazing! I can't wait to see it during the day or even the sunset.

Well, that's it for now. More to come.

The New Girl

My absolute favorite new show this season is the New Girl. For those who have never had the pleasure, it is about a sometimes awkward and seriously adorable girl (played by Zoe Deschanel) who moves into an apartment with three guys and the comedy that ensues.

For the past week, I have been living in an apartment with four guys. There are many moments where I feel like I am experiencing an episode of the show. It's been a bit of a change for everyone; but, I must say, I have quite enjoyed my time here. There have been dance parties, cooking nights, apartment disasters and bouts of food poisoning (not from anything I cooked thank goodness).

A few particularly interesting moments were when the roof started leaking in the room I am staying in. It started dripping early morning the second night I was here and is only now starting to dry. Because of this, I have been sleeping in the living room for the past few nights. I open my eyes every morning and immediately have a view of the sunrise over the city. I'll have to take pictures and post them.

I also went shopping at the mall with three of the guys; an interesting experience. I never thought the day would come when I would walk into a mall with a bunch of guys and walk out having not bought a thing and they walk out with several bags. We're talking H&M and Forever 21 (Yes, they have those over here). I quite enjoyed giving them fashion advice however and there is still an ongoing joke between me and the guys as to the correct color of a certain jacket we spotted.

Cooking here has proved to be a challenge. The only "oven" the guys have is a large toaster oven; and, of course, the temperature is in Celsius. I wanted to get on their good side early on so I decided a batch of my chocolate peanut butter brownies would be the ticket. Well, somehow it turned out like a cake and the whole top layer burned...regardless of the fact that the rest took twice as long to took. I, being a perfectionist when it comes to my baking, verbalized my frustrations over the burnt brownies while they are busy gobbling them up. It was funny, baking the brownies because I put them in the only baking pan they own which, upon putting them in, I realized it is too big for the toaster oven. It reminded me of the Thanksgiving episode of the New Girl when Jess buys a turkey that won't fit. I had to turn it long ways and close the cabinet the toaster oven is in to try and contain the heat.

Besides my adventures with the guys, I have begun a few adventures of my own. Yesterday I was determined to walk from the apartment to the area of the city where my brother works. According to Google maps it is supposed to be a 45 minute walk. I am starting to think that Google maps gives directions like an Israeli. Perhaps if I ask it three times it will give me correct ones... or at least all of them. I set out at 10AM passing the mall and some interesting areas of the city. As I walked I ended up in Yafo, a very old area of the city; partly artsy district, partly ghetto (If only Google maps had an "avoid the ghetto button"). I walked past some of the cutest shops and furniture stores I've ever seen and then ended up in the ghetto. I walked and walked down a series of winding narrow street till I finally made it back to a main road. Then I saw it... The Mediterranean. Finally! It was windy outside and the waves roared and crashed against the breakers. A group of surfers were out attempted to tackle them. In Israel, surfing happens in the winter because the surf is much better and no on else is at the beach. I made it to my brother's work at noon!

I walked around the streets and found some great deals on a few new sweaters. I seem to have forgotten all of mine in the States. I also found shoe heaven! I forgot to mention that the sole on my favorite boots cracked the second day I was here. I was so overwhelmed with decisions in the store (there were too many shoes liked) that I decided to think it over and go back. Otherwise, I probably would have walked out with about four pairs.

All in all, it has been an eventful first week. I am home resting today because I think I pulled something will all the walking yesterday... I think I walked for about five or six hours in total. Also, I finally started writing yesterday. It has begun my friends. Stay tuned, more to come.

And so it begins...

Ever have one of those moments where you realize you are at a crossroads and if you take another step further your whole life will never be the same? Those are scary times.
First, a little background as to how I came to this particular moment. After college I followed suit with my fellow graduates and sought employment in my field; only to find the doors slammed shut in my face. After months of failed attempts, I decided to swallow my pride and graciously accepted a position at my previous place of employment.
That job and I had a love/hate relationship for several years. It was a high stress and demanding environment that often times made me feel like pulling out all my hair and run through the streets screaming. However, in the roughly ten-year period I was employed there I gained a wealth of knowledge related to the field, a great work ethic, met and helped some wonderful people and built lasting friendships with many of my coworkers. I am grateful to have had that job and I know that the things I learned will come in handy in the future.
Now to explain how I came to the moment I spoke of. Over the past few years I have often thought about the things that I wished I could do or places I could go. Every time two of my enemies, fear and doubt, crept up and vanquished any ideas that achieving those dreams is possible.
Around my 25th birthday the usual "Oh crap, I'm halfway to 30" and "where did my youth go?" thoughts frequently entered my brain. I know neither of those are the truth, but I am grateful I went through that period because that is exactly what brought me to that moment.
I realized that no matter how many excuses I made, if my life wasn't what I wanted for myself, I was the only one to blame. Next thing I knew I had gave notice at my job and booked a ticket overseas.
My moment was at the airport handing my boarding pass to the airline worker. I knew that no matter what happens, there is no turning back. It is time to take responsibility for my life and start living my dreams. As someone with a history of depression, I have learned the hard way that life is what you make of it.
I sit now watching the sunset over the beautiful city of Tel Aviv. For the first time in my life I have no plans or particular goals save to find out what makes me happy and learn to really live.
This blog will chronicle the ups and downs of my journey and my findings along the way. It will include stories, photos, videos, recommendations for books and restaurants or recipes. My own little guide to bliss; which is why I have entitled it expedition paradise.
Though each person must find what makes him/her happy, it is my hope that this blog will inspire someone else to live their life to the fullest.