And French internet cafes are a rip off.
So not expecting to be blogging much over the next few days.
French cheese, however, a totally different story.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Racist? Me?
This blog entry, and the ones before it, are brought to you courtesy of the Laundromat in which I am doing my two weeks worth of washing right now.
Again - not being a fan of waiting in line (and everything in Rome seems to involve a line) I thought I'd get there first thing in the morning, as soon as it opens.
First thing in the morning may be a bit of an exaggeration. It opens at 10:00.
Anyway, 10:00 AM and I am at the place. It's still shut. I don't despair, and wait for the dude to show up. 10:10 comes and goes, as does 10:15 and 10:30. People come and wait and wait. Some of them lose hope and leave.
Ultimately there are just two people left waiting- me and this nice dark complexioned girl. We exchange pleasantries (she speaks no English and my Italian only goes as far as ordering from a menu, so the pleasantries are sorta wasted) but it's all very civil.
Then at around 10:45 this guy shows at the end of the street. I am pretty sure he's the Laundromat dude. So I tell her credo che e lui, to which she responds in a a militant tirade, the essence of which is - it is definitely not him, I know who works here and it is NOT him. You think it's him just because he's black. Not all Africani work in laundromats. etc etc etc.
Sure enough - the guy gets to us, pulls out his keys and opens the place. I never realised African ladies could blush...
Again - not being a fan of waiting in line (and everything in Rome seems to involve a line) I thought I'd get there first thing in the morning, as soon as it opens.
First thing in the morning may be a bit of an exaggeration. It opens at 10:00.
Anyway, 10:00 AM and I am at the place. It's still shut. I don't despair, and wait for the dude to show up. 10:10 comes and goes, as does 10:15 and 10:30. People come and wait and wait. Some of them lose hope and leave.
Ultimately there are just two people left waiting- me and this nice dark complexioned girl. We exchange pleasantries (she speaks no English and my Italian only goes as far as ordering from a menu, so the pleasantries are sorta wasted) but it's all very civil.
Then at around 10:45 this guy shows at the end of the street. I am pretty sure he's the Laundromat dude. So I tell her credo che e lui, to which she responds in a a militant tirade, the essence of which is - it is definitely not him, I know who works here and it is NOT him. You think it's him just because he's black. Not all Africani work in laundromats. etc etc etc.
Sure enough - the guy gets to us, pulls out his keys and opens the place. I never realised African ladies could blush...
Bull in a China Shop
So here's my story of the day.
Was catching up with Janet for lunch, and having learnt the place is dog-eat-dog, we went there early to beat the lines. Too early actually.
So with twenty minutes to burn we started wandering the streets looking for cute little things, and cute little things indeed we found.
Namely, this hole-in-the-wall antique shop crammed with all sorts of useless stuff.
So there we are, trying to pass the time, when I decide to look at this bronze piece, which actually was particularly unattractive.
Four seconds later and the base drops straight onto this fine china tea set. I mean who knew you were supposed to hold the thing by the base???? (Obviously everybody else in the store did know that)
Now, let me tell you something - a big piece of marble landing on fine antique china make an awful lot of noise in a hush-hush store. An awful lot of noise.
I did manage to get off the hook pretty lightly. the nice lady who owns the place felt visibly sorry for me and instead of ripping me off the way most antique shop owners would do, I managed to get off with a nominal compensation and a huge mi dispiace...
Yumm
Well, I guess you will either find this entry exciting or utterly boring...
Been to the market today and noticed the piles of mushrooms. They all looked and smelled like they were picked that morning, all covered in musty dirt etc, so I thought to myself "what the hell, let's give it a go"
Got a few different varieties and chucked them in a pan with some olive oil, butter, salt and pepper. Coming to think about it - also the only ingredients I had at home.
Cooked some pasta, tossed the whole thing together, and let me tell you - yumm... Set some seriously high mushroom standards last night...
And yes - pasta here is really that yellow. As in egg yolk yellow. As in almost orange-juice yellow.
I
Friday, April 17, 2009
Quick NetCafe Update
Finished my stuff early yesterday and thought I'd catch up with Janet for lunch.
We (i.e. me, with Janet's approval/blessing) decided to check out that little Jewish restaurant in the Jewish Ghetto that I vaguely remembered from last time.
I managed to get it very wrong, making every possible wrong turn, but by some weird coincidence we found ourselves just where I initially wanted to go.
Janet was heaps impressed with my navigation skills and who can blame her- the place is a little hole in the wall, with a nondescript door and some peeling post-it for a sign. It remains my little secret that I only found it through some Divine intervention.
Now the restaurant is actually not a restaurant. Officially it is a Cultural Association, probably gets them some tax benefits... So you need to sign up, a bit like you do in an RSL, and then you're invited to the wonderful world of Jewish Roman cuisine. Complete with a full-on Italian mother running the show, a grandmother supervising the kitchen, a little puppy dog and a million diners. We were actually super lucky to get there as they were opening for lunch. Fifteen minutes later there was a serious line of hungry italiani waiting outside, giving us (the foreigners) dirty looks.
Again- not sure God approves of their version of Jewish. It consisted of (amongst other things) bacon-filled pasta in sheep cheese sauce and Parmesan meatballs, so not strictly kosher. But since it was all delicious, I couldn't see a reason to make a big deal out of it.
We (i.e. me, with Janet's approval/blessing) decided to check out that little Jewish restaurant in the Jewish Ghetto that I vaguely remembered from last time.
I managed to get it very wrong, making every possible wrong turn, but by some weird coincidence we found ourselves just where I initially wanted to go.
Janet was heaps impressed with my navigation skills and who can blame her- the place is a little hole in the wall, with a nondescript door and some peeling post-it for a sign. It remains my little secret that I only found it through some Divine intervention.
Now the restaurant is actually not a restaurant. Officially it is a Cultural Association, probably gets them some tax benefits... So you need to sign up, a bit like you do in an RSL, and then you're invited to the wonderful world of Jewish Roman cuisine. Complete with a full-on Italian mother running the show, a grandmother supervising the kitchen, a little puppy dog and a million diners. We were actually super lucky to get there as they were opening for lunch. Fifteen minutes later there was a serious line of hungry italiani waiting outside, giving us (the foreigners) dirty looks.
Again- not sure God approves of their version of Jewish. It consisted of (amongst other things) bacon-filled pasta in sheep cheese sauce and Parmesan meatballs, so not strictly kosher. But since it was all delicious, I couldn't see a reason to make a big deal out of it.
Monday, April 13, 2009
The Blog Promise
I'm afraid I amy have no choice but to break the daily-update promise.
Besides the obvious (i.e. me being lazy), I have a slight PC drama on my hand.
Due to ridiculously large martinis at Will's, I managed to leave the AC cord for my laptop in London, while the laptop and yours truly are already in Rome.
Only noticed this crisis today and am a little skeptic about my ability to find one in Rome. You can find twenty gelato parlours on every block, 15 types of mushrooms in the fruit and veg shop and five million shoe stores. Electrical on the other hand, seem all to be way way out in the suburbs, where they speak no English and adopted Tourist-Ripoff as a national sport.
See what happens... In the meantime - ciao from the eternal city...
Besides the obvious (i.e. me being lazy), I have a slight PC drama on my hand.
Due to ridiculously large martinis at Will's, I managed to leave the AC cord for my laptop in London, while the laptop and yours truly are already in Rome.
Only noticed this crisis today and am a little skeptic about my ability to find one in Rome. You can find twenty gelato parlours on every block, 15 types of mushrooms in the fruit and veg shop and five million shoe stores. Electrical on the other hand, seem all to be way way out in the suburbs, where they speak no English and adopted Tourist-Ripoff as a national sport.
See what happens... In the meantime - ciao from the eternal city...
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Quote of the Day (Or Week, Or Year)
"Jews don't fly First Class. I have seen Schindler's List!"
Jonny
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
WHAT?
There was this typical Miami-Beach older couple sitting next to me at Fiddler on the Roof. Probably in town to see the grandkids for Passover.
As can be expected, the wife was all bronzed with blue hair and gold-everything. The husband looked, well, like someone who worked hard for decades to finance his wife's collection of gold stuff. They both seemed nice, although the husband found the plot a little hard to follow.
At some point his wife lost patience saying (in English, and not too discreetly) "HE'S A GOY! A GOY! HE'S UNCIRCUMCISED I'M TELLING YOU"
I kept giggling through the rest of the show... Despite the Jewish suffering on stage.
As can be expected, the wife was all bronzed with blue hair and gold-everything. The husband looked, well, like someone who worked hard for decades to finance his wife's collection of gold stuff. They both seemed nice, although the husband found the plot a little hard to follow.
At some point his wife lost patience saying (in English, and not too discreetly) "HE'S A GOY! A GOY! HE'S UNCIRCUMCISED I'M TELLING YOU"
I kept giggling through the rest of the show... Despite the Jewish suffering on stage.
Tuesday - Pt 3
Matchmaker matchmaker
make me a match!
Find me a find, catch me a catch!
Told you Tuesday was busy!
Went to the theatre that night, to see the world famous all-singing-all-dancing Jewish musical: Fiddler on the Roof.
Loved it! It's like Chicago, just more people, less flesh and nowhere near as much mischief!
Oish - makes you wanna utter a big Jewish sigh (in Yiddish)...
They were super strict about cameras at the show, sorry guys you will have to deal with youtube...
And a special dedication to Gwen Stefani
make me a match!
Find me a find, catch me a catch!
Told you Tuesday was busy!
Went to the theatre that night, to see the world famous all-singing-all-dancing Jewish musical: Fiddler on the Roof.
Loved it! It's like Chicago, just more people, less flesh and nowhere near as much mischief!
Oish - makes you wanna utter a big Jewish sigh (in Yiddish)...
They were super strict about cameras at the show, sorry guys you will have to deal with youtube...
And a special dedication to Gwen Stefani
Tuesday - Pt 2
In stark contrast to the museum visit, I then headed to Abu Gosh, this Palestinian village just outside Jerusalem, for what is said to be the best hummus in the world. The hummus of Abu Shukri.
Not quite sure about the best title. It was good hummus, I will give you that, but probably not something good enough to hide in your things and smuggle through quarantine back home.
Ok. I stand corrected. Could have been my fault rather than the place. Apparently there are more than just a single Abu Shukri. I went to the original humus place, whereas there is the real original one and the one and only and the world famous one. Gotta get back sometime for some deeper investigation. Or not.
Tuesday - Pt 1
Tuesday was a busy day by anyone's standards. Even more so by my lazy do-nothing standards.
First thing in the morning, I jumped in the car and drove to Jerusalem. The big Tel Aviv Vs Jerusalem divide is huge here, a bit like the Sydney-Melbourne one back in Australia. The big difference is that Israel is way way smaller. It almost feels a bit silly, seeing that they are almost suburbs of each other. Forty five minute drive in medium traffic, you can probably do it in thirty with a bit of luck and slight disregard to the rules of the road.
Anyway, made it in no time and went to see Yad Vashem - the Israeli Holocaust Museum. 
The place is truly impressive, in a harrowing and sobering way obviously. Not an awful lot you can say about it besides count your blessings about not being born there and then. And ponder about the depths of human evil and whether we will get that deep again.
There are screens scattered all over the place with survivors telling their stories. It's pretty amazing how realistic it makes the whole thing- I mean these people tell about their experiences 60 or 70 years ago, remembering every minute horrific detail as if it happened that morning. Then, at the end of the exhibition is the Hall of Names - a huge hall with files over files listing the names of people who perished in the holocaust. I am talking thousands of folders - millions of names. And the scary thing is that there are probably millions of people, whose names we will never know. People from communities that have disappeared altogether off the face of the earth.
Then you walk through the last door to find yourself almost suspended midair, looking at the blue horizon and green expenses of Jerusalem...
Monday, April 6, 2009
By Popular Demand...
Just in case you always wanted to know what it looks like...
Not gonna go into the technicalities but I actually do have to leave the house to upload pics. Crazy place the middle east!
So This is where I normally do my blogging. It's cute and neighbourhoody but a nightmare parking-wise. Even in Tel Aviv standards. It does have the Jewish equivalents of Greenwich Village wannabes - there's a definite artsy vibe here.
Today, however, is crap. It's muggy and you literally feel like you're breathing a sand-dust mixture. So traded the other cafe and all its character for a neater, more strile one at the mall around the corner. With the added bonus of free-of-charge parking.
Not gonna go into the technicalities but I actually do have to leave the house to upload pics. Crazy place the middle east!
So This is where I normally do my blogging. It's cute and neighbourhoody but a nightmare parking-wise. Even in Tel Aviv standards. It does have the Jewish equivalents of Greenwich Village wannabes - there's a definite artsy vibe here.
Today, however, is crap. It's muggy and you literally feel like you're breathing a sand-dust mixture. So traded the other cafe and all its character for a neater, more strile one at the mall around the corner. With the added bonus of free-of-charge parking.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
I don't mind driving in Tel Aviv - it's not as scary as it used to be (or maybe I am becoming braver). Parking is what sucks.
Firstly - there is no parking.
Secondly - when you do find a parking spot, you better have a rocket scientist (fluent in Hebrew) with you, just to figure out whether you can park there, until what time, and whether or not you need to pay.
Firstly - there is no parking.
Secondly - when you do find a parking spot, you better have a rocket scientist (fluent in Hebrew) with you, just to figure out whether you can park there, until what time, and whether or not you need to pay.
The sign above, for example, stipulates that...
(a) Only permit holders (area 6) can park between 5:00PM and 9:00AM the next day.
(b) Between 9:00AM and 5:00PM - parking is permitted but requires that you pay using some magic ticket.
(c) Permit holders (area 5) can park during those times free of charge.
(d) Permit holders (area 9) can park between 7:00AM and 5:00PM free of charge.
Love it.
The other trick you need to be aware of is that sometimes they skipped the signage altogether, and instead used some curbside colour codes. So the red-white signifies no parking, the yellow-red is bus zone during the day, the white-blue bits are where you need to pay for a special ticket. All very colourful but a tad annoying, especially if you're colour blind. Did I mention that I got a parking ticket within 12 hours of landing?
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Foreign Affairs
Just in case you missed the news on SBS last night, as of yesterday Israel has a brand new government.
Some people seem to get excited (or anxious) about the minor details like the new PM or Foreign Minister or whatever. The real news, the big news I mean, is that there is a Landwehr there.
Yes, you got it. The new Immigration minister is Sophia Landwehr, also known as Auntie Sophia.
So if you need a string or two pulled at the immigration ministry, if you wanted to settle down somewhere where there's always divine presence but never a dull moment, or if you just wanted to fight some bad guys and can't afford an Xbox, this could be your opportunity.
Standing ovations to whoever can spot the Landwehr in the ceremonial pic below.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Breakfast - The Holy Land Version
Went out for brekkie this morning.
Israelis take great pride in their breakfasts. Breakfasas here are usually of the degustation genre- this huge meal of pretty much everything you can think of, as long as it's kosher. Probably a way to take your mind of the absence of bacon/sausage/ham.
You don't have to mess with a "Breakfast Menu" you find at cafes of the Potts Point variety. None of the tough decision making in the morning: eggs or pancakes? You want breakfast, you order breakfast, you get breakfast.
Should have brought my cam with me, but didn't so you will have to do with the inventory list... This is what you get when you order "Breakfast"- no particular order and I'm almost sure I forgot a thing or two.
Israelis take great pride in their breakfasts. Breakfasas here are usually of the degustation genre- this huge meal of pretty much everything you can think of, as long as it's kosher. Probably a way to take your mind of the absence of bacon/sausage/ham.
You don't have to mess with a "Breakfast Menu" you find at cafes of the Potts Point variety. None of the tough decision making in the morning: eggs or pancakes? You want breakfast, you order breakfast, you get breakfast.
Should have brought my cam with me, but didn't so you will have to do with the inventory list... This is what you get when you order "Breakfast"- no particular order and I'm almost sure I forgot a thing or two.
Grapefruit juice
Bread basket
Muffins
Omelet
Jam
Strawberries
Big bowl of veggie salad
Cheese
More cheese
Tuna salad (random!!)
Herring (and you thought tuna was random!)
A bowl of olives
Tahini
A bowl of fried something (I think it may have been eggplant)
Coffee
And you know something - apart from the omelet (Jewish chooks just don't give nice eggs I reckon) it was all kinda tasty. Pretty skinny chance lunch is happening today.
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Holy Land
Everybody knows I'm a proud Jew.
But going to Jew-land is one ball-game in a league of its own. There's opportunities to get ripped off almost wherever you look. And the airport is the worst.
Seriously, as a proud Jew I dare say that going to Tel Aviv is like playing chess with yourself.
So far I dare say that I am leading though. Poor cab driver had no idea who he was messing with trying to pull his no-meter trick.
But going to Jew-land is one ball-game in a league of its own. There's opportunities to get ripped off almost wherever you look. And the airport is the worst.
Seriously, as a proud Jew I dare say that going to Tel Aviv is like playing chess with yourself.
So far I dare say that I am leading though. Poor cab driver had no idea who he was messing with trying to pull his no-meter trick.
Fast Forward 24 Hours...
Twenty four hours (give or take) later and I am at Heathrow airport in London. With eight (and a half) hours to burn until my night flight to Tel Aviv.
As much as I love airports, eight and a half hours is a really long time.
At some point I started chatting up random people along the lines of "so, mate, where are you off to today?" just to get one of those man-you're-a-freak stares back. I guess nobody likes random chats, but poms - poms are terrified by them!!!
The good thing about time is that even when it doesn't fly it does pass, so by 10:30PM I was boarding my red-eye to Tel Aviv. The perfect setting to pop a Normison, put one of those camp eyeshades on and have a solid five hours sleep from take-off to landing.
Missed the lovely British Airways cuisine (chicken. always chicken) but got my beauty sleep to face that holy holy land.
As much as I love airports, eight and a half hours is a really long time.
At some point I started chatting up random people along the lines of "so, mate, where are you off to today?" just to get one of those man-you're-a-freak stares back. I guess nobody likes random chats, but poms - poms are terrified by them!!!
The good thing about time is that even when it doesn't fly it does pass, so by 10:30PM I was boarding my red-eye to Tel Aviv. The perfect setting to pop a Normison, put one of those camp eyeshades on and have a solid five hours sleep from take-off to landing.
Missed the lovely British Airways cuisine (chicken. always chicken) but got my beauty sleep to face that holy holy land.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The Best F Word Ever.
Two F words even.
At the moment my two favourite F words in the world.
Free. Facial.
I mean- what's not to like?
I made it to the Qantas lounge mentally prepared to do bugger all till my flight (apart from maybe drinking them out of house and home...) when the nice lady from their spa (Jane- I told you I was gonna make you world-famous) offered me a free facial and massage to pass the time.
The civilised thing may have been to politely refuse, but I say civilised-shmivilised. By the time she finished saying "free facial" I was already lying there in the bring-it-on pose.
So yeah - if you were ever wondering if free facials are worth it, the jury has returned a verdict and the verdict is yes, they are worth it beyond any reasonable doubt.
At the moment my two favourite F words in the world.
Free. Facial.
I mean- what's not to like?
I made it to the Qantas lounge mentally prepared to do bugger all till my flight (apart from maybe drinking them out of house and home...) when the nice lady from their spa (Jane- I told you I was gonna make you world-famous) offered me a free facial and massage to pass the time.
The civilised thing may have been to politely refuse, but I say civilised-shmivilised. By the time she finished saying "free facial" I was already lying there in the bring-it-on pose.
So yeah - if you were ever wondering if free facials are worth it, the jury has returned a verdict and the verdict is yes, they are worth it beyond any reasonable doubt.
Planning Ahead
I don't want to toot my own horn here but I actually thought I did a good job at planning the whole logistics around the trip. It seemed like a pretty tight operation all in all:
(a) Dropped at Sydney airport by Simey
(b) Picked up at Melbourne by Andrew, followed by sensibly-boozey lunch
(c) Andrew's birthday drinks that night
(d) Yum Cha with Jamie, Nathan and the lovely Lizzie the next day
(e) Coffee and gossip session with Jason
(f) Airport drop-off by Jason just in time for my flight out
And surprisingly it all worked like clockwork. Almost.
Well Jason completed his dropping-off task with flying colors, no dramas whatsoever, but by the time I made it to check-in I realised I made an awful mistake. For some reason I thought my flight leaves at 7:30PM. It didn't. Scheduled departure time was 11:59PM. Taking into account that I tend to get to the airport early at the best of times meant that I had over seven hours (let me repeat that bit. Seven. Hours) to burn in Melbourne airport.
Good thing they had the season opener Swannies Vs St Kilda game at the lounge.
A bit of a shame the Swannies lost...
(a) Dropped at Sydney airport by Simey
(b) Picked up at Melbourne by Andrew, followed by sensibly-boozey lunch
(c) Andrew's birthday drinks that night
(d) Yum Cha with Jamie, Nathan and the lovely Lizzie the next day
(e) Coffee and gossip session with Jason
(f) Airport drop-off by Jason just in time for my flight out
And surprisingly it all worked like clockwork. Almost.
Well Jason completed his dropping-off task with flying colors, no dramas whatsoever, but by the time I made it to check-in I realised I made an awful mistake. For some reason I thought my flight leaves at 7:30PM. It didn't. Scheduled departure time was 11:59PM. Taking into account that I tend to get to the airport early at the best of times meant that I had over seven hours (let me repeat that bit. Seven. Hours) to burn in Melbourne airport.
Good thing they had the season opener Swannies Vs St Kilda game at the lounge.
A bit of a shame the Swannies lost...
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