In one of my many shopping sprees through Target before my trip, I found some little notebooks of blank paper in the same size and style of a passport. They were on clearance for less than $3 for a pack of 3, and they have cute little designs on them, so I scooped them up. Stuck one in my purse before I left on my trip, figuring that there would be things I might want to jot down while I was out and about.
I did wind up getting out of my funk mood and out of my room last night, and went to Gordo's, which is a beach bar right next to the hotel. Much like the upstairs tavern at my favorite local restaurant back home, Gordo's seating is couches, chairs, and low tables. I parked myself in a deck chair, ordered a glass of Israeli white wine and a plate of pasta and shrimp in garlic butter, and pulled out my passport notebook to write down some observations. Here is some of what I wrote.
"Enjoying the summery feeling of humid air combined with a cool ocean breeze."
"Oddly, this is not the first time on this trip that someone has assumed I am Russian and spoken to me in (yet another) language I don't understand. The taxi driver who picked me up at the airport assumed I was because of my first name ("Is Russian name, yes?") and tonight was the second waiter/maitre d' who thought that. Which makes me wonder - do I look Russian? As far as I know, I have absolutely NO Russian blood in my background!"
"There is an orange and white tabby cat at my feet, trying to make friends with me. He must know I ordered the shrimp." There was a black and white one making friends with me at the seafood place a couple of nights ago, too. Clearly it is obvious to the feline world that I am a sucker.
"The three women at the seating area next to me (who may actually BE Russian) ordered a bottle of Chardonnay with ice to put in the glasses." Blasphemy!
"Clearly not a Jewish/Kosher restaurant, because in addition to the pasta with shrimp, I could have ordered a bacon cheeseburger!"
"Interesting how my handwriting gets larger as I get further into the second glass of wine...."
"And now the women sitting next to me sound like they are speaking French. But I can't imagine any self-respecting French person sullying a glass of wine with ice."
"Why is it that my brain, when faced with any foreign language EXCEPT French, comes out with the French? I did this in high school in Italy and I'm doing it now - formulating all my conversations in my brain in (bad, grammatically incorrect) French. But when I'm actually in France or Quebec, it all abandons me. What the hell?!"
And at that point, Brian from class showed up and ordered a 2-foot tall beer. So I had a third glass of wine to keep him company. And we shut the place down at 2AM - which I can assure you was NOT the best plan for the night before an 8:30 start to Jerusalem. More on that trip later.
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| Brian and his impressively tall beer. It has a spigot on the bottom! |
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