Unplanned and Perfect: Our First Day in Jerusalem

Today is our first full day in Jerusalem.  We left CA Thursday at 10:30 am and landed (an hour late) at 2pm in Tel Aviv, Israel.  After clearing immigration, gathering baggage, passing through customs, and picking up our rental car, it was already 3:30. The drive to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv was surprisingly pretty, through green rolling hills dotted with homes, and we were even graced with a rainbow during a break in the light rain. Thank goodness for GPS; the road signs are mostly in Hebrew, but we found our hotel fairly easily, and by 4:30 we were parked, checked-in, and settled into our room.


Barely able to keep our eyes open, we were passed out by 5, awake again at 7:30 and ordered room service from the Shabbat (Sabbath) menu, which is all cold foods like salads, smoked salmon, cold cuts, etc. A Unisom each and we were out by 11.


Morning dawned clear and bright, and we woke refreshed and ready to get our Holy Land on.  Breakfast is provided as part of the room rate, and was quite good; several choices of cold cereals, smoked and pickled fish, fruits, yogurt, cold salads, and cheese, along with juices, coffee, tea, and assorted pastries. Our meal was healthy and delicious and a great way to refuel after airplane and airport food.

Old City walls, including Mount Zion (to the right)

Following a very rough idea of where we were going, we headed towards the Old City planning on visiting Mount Zion outside the Old City walls before venturing inside.

After only minor confusion, we stumbled upon the gravesite of Oskar Schindler made famous by Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List. It was quiet, and except for a small tour group, the graveyard was empty.

Oskar Schindler's grave. (Left: side view of grave with stones. Right: top of gravestone with inscription)

View of Jerusalem from Mount Zion cemetery.

We also visited the site of King David's tomb which is as unimpressive as all the websites and guidebooks say it was going to be.  Within the same complex is the Coenaculum (Latin for "dining room"), the hall that is the supposed place of the actual Last Supper.  The first time we walked through, it was thronged with tour groups, one of which was holding a loud prayer service in half of the smallish room.  The next time we passed through, two groups were leaving and another was on it's way in and we happened to get this shot between them.

The hall of the Last Supper

Adjacent to this site is the Church of the Dormition, the site where Mary, mother of Jesus, lived the rest of her life after Jesus' crucifixion and fell into a deep sleep (the "dormition") and died.


We entered the Old City through the Zion Gate on the south side and strolled through the Armenian Quarter to the Jaffa gate.  Just passed the gate is the entrance to the southern ramparts.  For 16 shekles ($4.26) each we gained admittance to the walls and some of the best views of both the old and new Jerusalem.

The ramparts dropped us just outside the security entrance for the Western Wall, the holiest spot in Judaism. Pictures of the Wall and the surrounding plaza are forbidden during Shabbat. There are separate sections for men and women at the Wall, so we split, had our private moments each, and met back in the center of the plaza.  As is tradition, I left a prayer on a slip of paper in the Wall itself.


From there we briefly entered the Muslim Quarter, were turned away by the nicest, politest, heavily-armed Israeli police officer at the entrance to Temple Mount, which is closed to non-Muslims during Shabbat. Feeling munchily, we opted for street-food as is our custom in foreign countries, and were delighted with the yummy chicken shawarma we shared.

Chicken shawarma & Pepsi, 25 shekles ($6.65)

The quieter streets of the Armenian Quarter

Without a map and no real inclination to visit any sites in particular, we happily wandered the ancient streets and inadvertently found ourselves on the Via Dolorosa, the path that Christ took from death sentence to crucifixion. Thronged with pilgrims, tourists, and locals alike, it was difficult to distinguish the stations that we passed or find much reverence in the experience since the streets are so different from the time of Jesus and are now lined with every kind of tourist shop imaginable.

"Hey, I think this is kind of important..."

Realizing that we had been on our feet non-stop for the last 6 hours and over 8 miles, we decided to take our aching feet back to the hotel, digest what we saw today, and maybe actually have a game plan for tomorrow and the rest of our time here in Israel.

For two jetlagged travelers just out for a leisurely stroll, we sure did find ourselves at several major tourist destinations and accomplished many things on our Israeli "to-do" list. Tomorrow we plan on visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (one of the alleged burial and resurrection sites), the Dome of the Rock, and the Mount of Olives, perhaps a drive back to Tel Aviv if the weather is nice.

I want a teapot that big.

The Taco Lady

"Señoras y señores, estamos comenzando nuestro descenso final en la Ciudad de México. El capitán y la tripulación le gustaría darle las gracias por volar con nosotros esta noche, y bienvenidos a México! "

 “Ladies and gentlemen, we are starting our final descent into Mexico City. The Captain and crew would like to thank you for flying with us this evening, and welcome to Mexico!”

For weeks I have dreamed of these words, knowing that within the hour of landing, my lust for REAL tacos would finally be satiated. For the uninitiated, Mexican street tacos bear almost no resemblance to the tacos found in the U.S., although in certain neighborhoods of the state’s capitol where we live a resurgence towards the traditional style is gamely feeding the migrant population, and turning gringo hearts like mine away from deep-fried crunchy shells and “smeat” found in drive-thus and chain restaurants to the marinated and seasoned meats chopped fine and served in small corn tortillas topped with salsa, cilantro, onions, and a squeeze of lime.

Upon arrival to Mexico, after passing immigration, jostling around the baggage carousel, and clearing customs, after being welcomed by family where everyone, male and female alike, hug and kiss with every hello and goodbye, after threading and bumping our way through Distrito Federal to the suburb of Tlalnepantla, I make my long-awaited request: bypass the house and take me straight to the Taco Lady.

On the corner of Calle Colima off the highway to Queretaro, under a tarp serviced by two propane tanks and electricity borrowed from one of her family member’s small tienda, the Taco Lady to me, also called Doña Guille by the family, serves up some of the best street tacos in all of Mexico. For the last 40 years my husband’s family has made Doña Guille’s tacos the stop for the common late-night snack or 4^th meal. The original owner of the store’s wife is Guillermina, and as a child, my husband’s cousin (primo Juan) simply latched on to the only other adult name he knew outside of the family: Guillermina, and so the Taco Lady became “Doña Guille”, although that is not her real name. To this day, no one in the family has ever called her anything else.

Doña Guille’s specialty is suadero, beef cut from the breast or brisket, chosen specifically for its tender, less muscle-grained texture, marinated and cooked in hot oil and then chopped fine, served in warm corn tortillas topped with onions, cilantro, and spicy salsa verde. Much to the chagrin of my hubby’s tender taste buds, Doña Guille always tops my tacos with extra salsa.

What makes tacos de Doña Guille so good is not just the suadero, which is the most delicious I have ever had, but the experience itself; the camaraderie of standing on the street corner in the glow and glare of sulfer streetlamps and clamped floodlights, the chatter and laughter of friends and family, and the knowledge that tomorrow, without fail, the Taco Lady will be back, slinging tacos 
and pombasos from when the sun goes down until the early morning hours, feeding neighbors and weary travelers alike.

Gdansk Continued: Weekend Adventure

The time zone adjustment, busy days, and long evenings have made it difficult to get here and record our trip, especially since I meant to bring my netbook, but left is behind accidentally; when the Riz goes to work, during my normal blogging hours, he takes the laptop with him.  Stupid me.


Here are some snapshots from our second day in Gdansk.  As you can tell, I am in love with the architecture, and the street we are staying on in particular.  I can't get enough pictures of it!


We spent a long day walking the Old City, stopping in cafes to warm up along the way, and ended our day, surprisingly, at a nightclub. Who would have thought it? We finally meandered home in the wee hours of Sunday and slept most of the rest of the day.


So, that was the weekend, in a quick blurb.  I promise to amend and repost broader thoughts and descriptions of the places we have been and the people we have met and seen.  For now, pictures from Saturday, January 14, 2012:

Breakfast tray

Cheese spreads

Bread basket with two gingerbread clovers

Ham & Cheese

Snow on the gutterspout

St. Mary's Cathedral, the largest brick cathedral in the world

We spooned.

Windy, windy, snowy day.  You would think someone from Chicago would be used to this type of weather and not look so pained.

Granary Island in the Motlawa River. These buildings, as was most of the Old Town, were bombed heavily during WWII. The broken structures are a grim reminder of the past, while the new construction and cranes in the background are a clear sign of Poland's burgeoning economy and modern future.

Rick gets primitive with the natives.

Mariacka (Mary's Street) from the porch of our favorite cafe. 

Mariacka, looking west after a day of light snowfall.

Mariacka, looking east towards the Motlawa River and one of the many gates.

Hit with a snowball. Not amused.

On our way to dinner

Pueblo's Tex-Mex.  We just HAD to try it!

Margarita time

We stopped in a pub after dinner.  Shots are very common in Poland. The bartender made this for us: Kahlua and Absinthe, lit on fire, and drank in one big slurp through a straw.  He was awesome enough to take pictures of us actually drinking the dang things.

Several hours later, Parliament, a nightclub.  Yes, it as bad as every Eastern European dance club I have seen in the movies.

4:45 AM, a thick blanket of snow lays on the quiet streets, kebabs in hand, we  finally arrive home.

Welcome to Gdansk!

After over 20 hours of travel on three flights, covering well over 5000 miles, we have arrived in Gdansk, Poland! The last leg was aboard a small jet plane from Copenhagen to Gdansk, about an hour’s flight across the Baltic Sea, where I got my first taste of just how cold our trip was going to be; boarding and disembarking was a hurried scurry out of the terminal and across the tarmac to the waiting plane through the very wintery air of Northern Europe.

The airport is teeny; we watched through the window as two men unloaded our luggage and brought it into the terminal, and customs is one man sitting on a high stool beneath two signs: "Items to Declare" or "Nothing to Declare", looking bored. A cab had been arranged for us by the hotel, and our driver awaited with a crude block-lettered sign on a battered piece of cardboard.  In his late sixties, and a man of few words, to say the least, he kept the tradition of cabdrivers around the world alive, speeding around slower traffic, cutting-off other cabs, and muttering what could only be assumed as some colorful descriptions of the other drivers’ skills.

Mariacka Street - Looking East outside Gotyk House

Our arrival to the oldest part of Gdansk was something out of a fairytale: three- and four-story townhouses marching side-by-side down cobblestoned streets, gothic archways leading in and out of the Old Town, and a gothic-style cathedral in the heart of it all. How lucky we are to be staying at the Gotyk House, Gdansk’s oldest house, and just the damn cutest hotel we could imagine.  The place is chock-full of supposed legend and history, claiming that Nicolaus Copernicus shared an alleged affair with a wealthy merchant’s daughter right here in these very rooms.  For more on the hotel and the legend of Copernicus and Anne Schilling, click here.

Gotyk House with St. Mary's Cathedral

Our room is small in square-footage, but the high, pitched roof ceilings help to keep it from feeling cramped. The bathroom is surprisingly modern, with the extra surprise of a heated towel rack.  That right there is enough to make the place worthy of a good review, but it only gets better; we were warmly greeted by the hotel staff, assisted with our bags up two flights of stairs, and were brought up a tray with delicious tea to help us warm-up and settle in.

After a long nap, we were ready to take a walk and explore the most immediate few blocks around us.  Being so far North, night comes earlier than we are used to, and by 4 o’clock, the sun had almost completely set, and the temperature had dropped about 5 degrees to a chilly 30F. The streets of the Mariacka, which were reduced to rubble in the Second World War, are beautifully reconstructed, with many of the porches and decorative gutters typical to the Old Town rebuilt from the original stonework. The streets are lined with cafes, pubs, restaurants, jewelry shops (mostly silver and amber), galleries, antique shops, and only one or two small souvenir stalls. You get the feeling that although the residents and shop owners know that the Old Town area is a draw for tourists, they are too proud of the history and heritage to completely exploit the opportunity, unlike the cheap and tacky stalls surrounding the many ruins in Italy or the shrines in India.

We meandered up and down the streets, just taking in the feeling of the town.  The first day I am in a foreign country, I feel like I am in a daze; the reality of being so far from home, in a place I have only barely even read about hasn’t really sunk in.  

I just kept looking at my husband, squeezing his hand, and exclaiming, “We’re in Gdansk. POLAND. We’re really here!”

 We finally stopped on the other side of the Motława River at the Hotel Gdansk, which I had read good reviews of and knew had its own brewery and restaurant. The views of the Old Town from the other side of the river are just spectacular! 

The staff at the brewery was helpful, spoke English well, and served us our first taste of Poland: two .5 liters of their very own lager.  

After our first round, we decided to order a couple of light dishes from the appetizer side of the menu: smoked sausages with beer-braised sauerkraut served with mustard, and a herring dish with what we ended up calling a “creamy slaw” of cabbage, pickles, capers, and sour cream.  Surprisingly, the herring was both our favorite, although I will admit to eating almost a whole bowl of the sauerkraut, it was that good!  After another round, this one the wheat, Heffe-style beer, we decided to walk back towards our hotel, possibly stopping at another pub along the way.

By this time, the weather had proved just how changeable it can be here; we had experienced clear skies, rain, snow, sleet, and hail, all within about 2 hours.  As we walked back across the river, the wind had picked up and snow in big fat flakes swirled around us, battering our faces and turning ears and noses red. A barge restaurant on the river was playing big band music over a PA system, and I will admit to dancing in the snow with the Hubby in the middle of the bridge as a gaggle of teenage girls giggled behind their mittens, embarrassed on behalf of our tragically unhip display.

We stopped in at Pub U Szkota, a supposedly Scottish-style pub.  The only thing “Scottish” was the name, the wood interior, and a few pieces of tchotchke on the walls, although they did have both Guinness and Murphy’s on draught.  The bartenders served behind the tiniest of work spaces, slinging mostly Polish and Czech bottled beers to the young crowd. 

At over thirty, we felt pretty ancient to the mostly late-teens and early twenties crowd that grew larger and louder as the night progressed.  Although both pubs boasted fully stocked bars, this is most definitely a beer-drinking region, with the only exception being shots of vodka and the occasional cognac or brandy.  Not really a beer fan? Here the bartenders make “girly beers”, pumping or pouring syrups and flavorings into the bottom of .5 liter glasses and topping with light beer. The available choices included raspberry, ginger, chocolate, and yes, even coconut. Coconut beer? No, thank you.

After some cajoling, we did decide to give a flavored local beer a shot.  The bartender was great, offering three bottled versions: a local Polish honey beer brewed a couple of towns over, a Czech beer brewed with natural grapefruit, and a chocolate beer.  We decided on the grapefruit as it was deemed the least sweet. It turned out to be summery, refreshing, and almost like grapefruit Fanta. We also got talked into a couple of vodka shots.  To be fair, there wasn’t that much “talking into” to be done; he said vodka, we said two, and, I think, earned a little bit of cred.  The vodka was deemed to be “the best” around. It was a little sweet, distilled with herbs, and highly sippable, although custom dictated taking it as a shot, which I had no problem complying with.

We decided it was time to call it a night, to try and get to bed to help acclimate to the time zone change (+9 hours), although we were told it was too early to turn in.  Most bars are open to 2 or 3 in the morning, with the after-hours clubs and bars open to 7 in the morning; at 10:30, most folks were just getting started.

Along the narrow streets home, we discovered our favorite thing about any town that has a late-night scene: cheap, filling, easy food!  Feeling a bit peckish, we made our last stop of the evening a small kabop shop, which offered a delicious wrap most similar in style to a gyro: shaved meet in flat bread, topped with veggies and sauce.  

Our choices were either “spicy” or “garlic”; we chose spicy, topped with three types of cabbage (no lettuce here!), onions, pickles, and sauce. Oh, how good was this going to be?! So good, that despite my penchant to want to document everything when we travel, especially food and drink, I have no picture. It was all I could do to not devour it within the one block back to our hotel.  First bite honors went to the Hubs, and his happy-food groan made me realize without even tasting our kabop that we should have gotten two instead of sharing, and at 12 zloty, or about $3.50 USD, why the heck not?

And, so ends our long day of travel and the first 12 hours in Gdansk. We are so happy to be here, and can’t wait to do, see, and taste more of Poland and further explore my family roots.