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.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
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?
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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)