Further and Further East: Easter

Poland is one of the most predominantly Catholic countries in Europe, if not in the world. Because of this, the country is known for its Easter celebrations. One of the cities best known for such celebrations is Krakow. The week leading up to Easter is filled with events and traditions, including Easter markets, similar to the Easter and Christmas markets found in most European countries. One of the most charming traditions occurs on Easter Saturday. In the US, we associate Easter baskets with the Easter bunny, Cadbury eggs, and jelly beans. As we walked the streets of Krakow, we saw a very different type of Easter basket: children and adults alike carried simple baskets with the food that would be eaten at Easter Sunday's meal. The baskets included small portions that were taken to be blessed, and churches were filled throughout the day as people got their baskets blessed and attended mass.

We arrived in Krakow around 7 am after taking a night train from Prague. The train ride itself was amazing, and we woke up to a gentle knock by the train steward who told us our stop was coming up and he had coffee and croissants for us. After exiting the train station, we were greeted by a large plaza with historic buildings on one edge, and a giant, modern mall on another edge, which gave an apt first impression of a city that embraces its past while moving forward. When we arrived at our hostel, we were beyond impressed by its cleanliness, chicness, and friendliness. It was not long before Mike also made it to the hostel, and we ditched our bags and set out to explore the city. We began in the Jewish quarter. We walked by synagogues, over a bridge, and through the streets where Schindler's List was filmed. In Hero's Square, there are empty chairs lined up in perfect rows, which provides a haunting effect in a place where Jews were once forced to run in circles until the Nazis decided which people to kill. We also went to Schindler's factory, which is now encased in glass and has been made part of a museum. The day became less somber as we sat down to our first, but not last, meal of pierogies. We then visited Wallel Hill where we perused the castle, 14th century cathedral, and breathtaking views of the city and river. Afterwards, we wound our way through the park which extends down the middle of the city. We then happened upon Krakow's Easter market in what we soon realized was the major square of the town. We ate spinach, Russian style, and cabbage pierogies from the market that day and the next. We also ate delicious fried cheese made in the high mountains outside the city, drank beer that they put a strange but glorious syrup into, and shopped around the market that had Polish arts and crafts. On Easter Sunday, we returned to the market in the pouring rain to enjoy the same tasty treats. We also saw packed churches everywhere we went, and though the masses were said in Polish, it was easy to understand the intense smell of incense and the joy in the voices of singing churchgoers. Though many restaurants, shops, and museums were closed because of the Easter holiday, having the streets of Krakow almost to ourselves, coupled with the special Easter celebrations, created a unique and unforgettable experience.

On Easter night, we took a night train to Lviv, Ukraine. Instead of waking to a kind steward, we awoke to a harsh knock an hour earlier than we had anticipated because of the time difference between Poland and Ukraine. We looked out the train window to see our stop, but because we do not know Cyrillic, we had to trust that the steward was kicking us off the train at the right stop. As we exited the train station, we were met with more Cyrillic, and the challenge of navigating the public transportation system. The cost of a ticket for the tram is 1 Ukrainian Hryvnia, which converts to about 15 cents. We set out to find our hotel with directions that were in English, only to find that most of the street signs were in Cyrillic; however, once we figured out where we were, the city became very easy to navigate. We were greeted at our hotel by the sight of dozens of empty beer bottles all over the patio and the receptionist sleeping on the couch in the reception area. Although unconventional, we quickly learned that Monday is also part of the Easter holiday, and given the Ukrainian, Polish, and Russian propensity to drink, the hotel patrons and staff had taken complete advantage of the holiday. So, once again, we found ourselves in a city where many shops and restaurants were closed for the holiday, but this time around, we spent a great deal of time attempting to acquire train tickets to our next destination, Debrecen, Hungary. As if a language barrier is not difficult enough, the alphabet barrier proved highly frustrating. We did not actually get the whole situation sorted out until the next day, when we finally got tickets for a train that night. As for the rest of our time in Lviv, we hung out with a friendly American Peace Corps volunteer who had a friend visiting from Virginia and we toured the streets. Lviv is also very Catholic and has many beautiful churches and cathedrals. The town is beautiful, and has a breathtaking park. I feel so lucky to have gotten to see it in the prime of spring, with flowering trees and warm sunshine. Kids were playing on playgrounds, people were playing with dogs, and everyone was doing some people watching. We sat at sidewalk cafes and had some Ukrainian food and beer. I had some delicious borscht (beet soup) and more pierogies, though in Urkaine they are called varenyky. We visited the town square, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and we also took a hike up to Lviv's High Castle. To get there, we walked up a steep hill, then about 250 stairs, and then climbed more stairs and ramps around a citadel-type structure with a flag on the top. Though I dispute the application of the term castle, it did lead us to amazing views, and made us realize we had only encountered a small, touristy fraction of Lviv and Ukraine. Overall, the initial obstacles and frustrations we had met with in the city were overshadowed by the city's beauty and simplicity, plus I am pretty excited about the Ukrainian stamp in my passport.

Up until Lviv, our travels had taken us further and further east. With Easter over, we headed south to Satu Mare, Romania, where we stayed with a friend I met on my first trip to Romania. Tomorrow we are going to see Romania's largest waterfall and a cemetery famed for being the only merry cemetery. I am intrigued to discover what makes the cemetery so merry!

Prague Spring

As we wandered the winding streets of Prague, it was impossible to avoid the sense of history, the majesty of the buildings, and the allure of spires sprinkled across the skyline. Prague tries to embrace and capitalize on all of these aspects: the Bohemian origins, twice the capital of the Holy Roman Empire, the story of not one but two defenestrations by the Hussites, the reign of the infamous Hapsburgs, and the Communist takeover and subsequent effects and revolutions. In 1968, under the Czech leader Alexander Dubcek, many of the facets of Communism were removed despite the negative and threatening reaction of Moscow. This political move ushered in decades of usually peacefully resolutions and movement away from Communism. It also helped to create the political temperment that has helped Prague establish itself as one of the wealthiest cities in Eastern Europe and as a tourist destination. The precipitating event to all this came to be known as the Prague Spring.

Now, I have found myself in Prague during spring, and it is gorgeous. The weather, which we anticipated to be cold and rainy, has been warm and sunny. The gardens on the hill around Prague castle were in full bloom, and every flowering tree and plant was breathtaking, especially with the castles and Prague skyline as the backdrop. Upon our arrival, reception made some recommendations for authentic Czech food and gave us some very useful advice: "Here, beer is cheaper than water, and so I recommend you just drink beer." She was not joking: she was seriously telling us to drink beer over water, and beer was seriously cheaper than water. Obviously, we went with her advice, and most of our outings and sightseeing involved regular beer breaks, which we regarded as cultural immersion time.

Though Prague is large, we walked almost everywhere, because all of the historical and notable places are within close range of one another. We stayed next to the Charles Bridge, which gave us conventient access to both the castle and old town areas. We went on a free tour of the city (though the guide frequently reminded us that tips were accepted). The tour covered the old town buildings, the Jewish section of the city, St. Wenceslas Square, some historic musical and theater buidings, and some churches and statues. One of the most remarkable statues was the Franz Kafka statue. There is also museum devoted to Kafka's life and work that we went to on our last day in the city. Seeing what an influence he was artistically and philosophically make me regret not having read his works. Another notable place on our trip was a rather small church in Stare Mesto that had an interesting legend. According to the legend, a statue of the Virgin Mary was adorned with a beautiful necklace. One night, a thief hid in the church until all the priests had left. He climbed up to the statue, reached out for the necklace, and much to his surprise and chagrin, the statue grabbed the man's arm and held him aloft until the next morning when the priests returned and summoned the executioner with his axe. The thief assumed they would cut off the statue's arm, but he was wrong. The thief's arm was cut off and he was sent to jail. Whether the story is true or not, an old, blackened, shriveled, severed arm remains hanging in the church as a warning to theives.

Over the next few days, we saw too many people wearing Czech Me Out shirts, learned that sitting inside a smoky bar (all of which are smoky) makes your clothes smell too terrible to wear, ate Bohemian and potato dumplings ( knedliky), found a delcious bagel place, and ate traditional cuisine at some of the Easter markets. Czech food is heavy in nature and usually incorporates a cream of some sort, meat, potatoes, and bread. They also had the most genius idea: fried toast. We discovered this upon ordering beer cheese and toast. The beer cheese was unique, a little stinky, and unforgettably delicious. The toast was the real treat. It wasn't merely toasted; it was crispy, greasy, and beyond grilled. I think fried bread should be a staple on any menu. One of the other amazing dishes we sampled was garlic soup (cesnekova). The broth is garlicy to the point of perfection, and crouton-type-breadcrumbs are dropped into the soup right before it is served, so the bread is still a little crunchy, and therefore amazing. On a visit to a monastery, we saw the monastic library collection and also visited the monastic brewery, which had a seasonal Easter beer, so we had some cultural immersion time at the monastery. We also found an amazing microbrewery called Pivovarsky Dum (pivo is Czech for beer) that served traditional beer in addition to banana, sour cherry, nettle, and coffee brews. We went there twice and banana was by far my favorite. After spending too much time at Pivovarsky Dum, we also learned that the Prague metro is amazingly efficient and was probably the reason we made our train on time.

In many ways, visiting Prague in spring has accompanied a sort of spring awakening in my traveling mentality. After becoming a little jaded in my travels, it was nice to go to a place where no one tried to buy me, where prices were set on a menu instead of being inflated based on my passport, and where I was not considered scantily clad while wearing a short-sleeve shirt. So, we have now moved on to Krakow, Poland, where we have met up with Mike and are currently holed up, with some friendly American students studying abroad in France and some very rowdy Spaniards, inside a rather posh hostel on a rainy Easter Sunday.

Kate Jacobs' The Friday Night Knitting Club

I have not posted a book review in awhile. One of the reasons for this is because every now and then I stumble upon a book that is so unappealing that it takes me a long time to read, and this was one of those books. It is almost as if I procrastinated and would do things other than read because I disliked the book so much. Reading Friday Night Knitting Club felt like a chore on two accounts. The first: it was loaned to me, randomly, by a coworker's mother, who frequently asked about my reading progress. The second: wading through Jacobs' sentence fragments was a consistent frustration. I admit, I cried at the end. Yes, even I can be moved despite shoddy punctuation placement. However, the plot that pulled at my heartstrings did not make up for the rest of the book's faults.

The first fault that impeded my reading pleasure was simply the sentence fragments. For example, "really open" (274) is not a sentence. Yet in the book, r was capitalized, and a period followed open. While I can make certain exceptions for dialogue, I encounter comprehension problems when I am faced with an onslaught of non-dialogue fragments, pronouns with no antecedents, and an infestation of comma splices. Most writing conventions and grammar rules are there for a reason, and that reason is to make writing accessible to the reader. The second fault involved the predominance of cliches. The novel included every stereotypical plot line one can imagine: scorned lover, betrayed best friend, elderly patron, unexpected pregnancy, mixed-race child issues, cheating and adultery, [WARNING: spoiler alert] a surprise death by cancer that brings everyone together. Knitting is the theme that connects all the plot lines, but the final product was like a loose, patchwork sweater that your grandmother made and that you are forced to wear.

Though the novel successfully borders on the inspirational, it does so in the most predictable of ways. I may as well have read a daily calendar of Deepak Chopra quotes. I can only assume that its inspirational qualities are what warranted a sequel to the book: Knit Two. (If the name had been Saturday Night Knitting Club, I might have been slightly amused.) I just hope no one loans me the sequel to read, and if someone does, I hope I can work up the gumption to just say no.

RECOMMENDED: No

NEXT READ: Hillary Mantel's Wolf Hall

REREAD: Our Town

Jacobs, Kate. The Friday Night Knitting Club. New York: Penguin, 2007.

Egyptian Demands: A Baksheesh for Your Thoughts

For those of you who may not know, baksheesh is the Arabic word for tip or bribe, which I also wrote about in “Honk If You’re Egyptian.” I cannot emphasize the prevalence of this Egyptian practice: one cannot escape baksheesh! Even the smallest favor seems to warrant financial reciprocation, where a similar situation in most places in the world would require a simple thank you. At a tourist-oriented restaurant, I once saw an employee go into the ladies’ room ahead of me, flush the toilet unnecessarily, and then demand baksheesh from me before I entered the stall.

So, am I surprised to hear rumors that Egyptians are demanding baksheesh from travelers attempting to leave the country to ensure their safety in the midst of political uprising? Absolutely not. This led me to think, however, that if the Egyptians apply the persistence they exhibit when demanding baksheesh, they have a pretty good chance of receiving the democracy they demand. If I were to describe the Arabic culture, I would characterize it as passionate and determined. In some cases, these characteristics manifest themselves in the interminable sales pitches enticing you to buy a carpet or hookah. In other, more moving cases, passion and determination is manifested in the reliability of the muezzin’s beautiful call to prayer, in a candid and proud religious celebration in the street, or, in the case of Egypt, in the tenacity of a very poor, but culturally rich people.

As I watch and read the news, I am most struck by where the Egyptian people are demonstrating: I have been in some of those places. I travel because it opens my mind to experiences and cultures; it makes me a better person, and, at times like these, it personalizes the struggles I am witness to via various media outlets. When I see demonstrations outside the Library of Alexandria, I fear that the impressive structure I was awed by may be burned down yet again. But who am I to put a price on democracy? Maybe a library is a fair cost? I think the beautiful and friendly Alexandria deserves the government it wants. When I see pictures of Midan Tahrir (Tahrir Square), I remember a dangerous, chaotic, and indescribably intricate roundabout where there was a major Metro stop, access to a bridge to cross the Nile, dozens of tour operators, and, oddly enough, a KFC. Midan Tahrir was always a bustling square, but now it is the locus of a rebellion. I feel privileged to have been to some of the places that have become rallying points for a revolution, and I wish the Egyptians luck as they fight for something in which they believe. Whether it is for baksheesh or democracy, I think the Egyptians will put up a good fight until their demands are met.

Lev Grossman's The Magicians

In an unplanned sequence of events, I bought this book almost as soon as it came out in paperback. I came across the book at a freestanding Waldenbooks, which are clearly the rarest of breeds these days. I took special delight in finding out from the friendly Waldenbooks salesperson that it is also the last Waldenbooks in the state of Arizona. (It is located on Bell and 3rd Street in Phoenix if you would like to pay them a visit.).

Now, onto the book. Have you ever read a book that is hard to get excited about? Maybe it takes you a few chapters to warm up to the protagonist? Perhaps it takes you 50 pages or so to get invested in the plot? Well, this is not one of those kinds of books. The Magicians is the type of book that had me completely engaged from the beginning, made me stay up far too late reading, and had me reconsidering why I do anything but read books. (Shameless plug: I must do things other than read because I have bills to pay, so if anyone would like to pay me to read, please contact me immediately.)

As you are all savvy readers, I am sure you have gleaned from the title that the book indeed involves magic. One could say that Grossman's prose borders on magic, but the true magic is, literally and figuratively, the plot, which includes magicians and all the magical problems they encounter. Almost immediately, the reader finds references to the mythical, magical land of Fillory. Fillory is an only slightly veiled allusion to Narnia of C.S. Lewis and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe fame. The main character, Quentin Coldwater, grew up reading novels about Fillory (much like I grew up reading novels about Narnia), and he earnestly wishes that magic were real (much like I think it would be awesome to have a magic wand and do spells). SPOILER ALERT: He got his wish. (I did not.) In Harry Potter-esque fashion, Quentin finds himself at a school of magicians and adventure ensues. The remarkable thing about the story is that the adventures are quite gritty, complete with sex, jealousy, guilt, and a bunch of other non-magical things. Through Quentin, Grossman explores the existence of someone with the magic of a post-Hogwarts Harry Potter and the cynicism of Holden Caulfield from J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye.

As readers, we do not often consider the disenchanted, sexualized wizard searching for a life purpose. Upon entering Narnia or Hogwarts, the Pevensie children and Potter have an obvious opponent: some manifestation of the forces of evil. For Quentin and his magical cohort, the forces of evil are not as obvious, and are more internal: egoism, arrogance, the torture of guilt, and uncensored magical abilities. The true story within The Magicians is how Quentin copes with the non-magical.

RECOMMENDED: Definitely

NEXT READ: Kate Jacobs' Friday Night Knitting Club

REREAD: C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia

Grossman, Lev. The Magicians. New York: Plume-Penguin, 2009.

Mark Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea

According to The Christian Science Monitor, "There's a whiff of a classic about Ella Minnow Pea." I would have to argue that point: I think the book reeks of a classic with a stench of pure ingenuity. In fact, it is quite possibly one of the most clever books I have ever read. I discovered the book via the Powell's Books Daily Dose, which sends daily book recommendations from Powell's customers. The description led me to a simple conclusion: I must read this book. I was not disappointed.

Ella Minnow Pea (think L-M-N-O-P) is an epistolary novel that consists solely of letters exchanged between characters. The novel is set on the fictional island of Nollop, named after the inventor of the legendary pangram, "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog." The pangram is proudly posted on a statue in the center of the island until one day a tile with a letter falls off. The governing body of the island decides Nollop is speaking from beyond the grave. The message? That the fallen letter is no longer allowed to be used in writing or in speech. As tiles continue to fall from the statue, letters continue to be banned. In an effort to avoid the banned letters, the epistolary-inclined Nollopians must creatively author their letters. As the permissible letters decrease, Mark Dunn sneakily and eloquently continues the epistolary exchange, but, by the end, the letters resemble text speak, and each acts as a bit of a literary puzzle that necessitates some phonetic gymnastics. Not only is the plot engaging, but the spelling is downright inventive. The true treat comes at the end of the book when the citizens attempt to create their own pangram with less than 32 letters in order to restore legal use of the entire alphabet.

This book could have been about many things: censorship, separation of church and state, or literary culture. Though the novel would be a successful commentary on any of these topics, the most successful aspect of the book is its charm. It was amusing, unique, and thought provoking. As I finished this book in record time at the JFK airport at the beginning of a very long, post-Egypt layover, I could only regret that I had not savored the story longer.

RECOMMENDED: Highly

NEXT READ: Lev Grossman's The Magicians

REREAD: Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate

Dunn, Mark. Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters. New York: Random House, 2001.

"DO NOT SALE"

Egregious errors in spelling and grammar are all around us. This one is lurking right behind me, literally, everyday at work.

Sometimes I wonder why I don't simply change it. I could quietly create a new sign reading "Do Not Sell." I could even get a little crazy and write "Not For Sale," but I never do. Perhaps it leaves me feeling grammatically superior, or perhaps it provides me a little of the familiar in the retail job I feel oh-so-foreign at: when I feel like a fish out of water, I know how to fix this mistake. Like saving the best bite of a meal for last, maybe I am saving this edit for the moment when I can most savor it.

Gail Carriger’s Soulless

I am a self-professed book snob. I am drawn to the most literary of titles. I shy away from the thrift paperback editions in favor of critical editions. I research which translation is considered to be the best before I purchase a book. And, admittedly, I had never bought a book from the Science Fiction and Fantasy section of a bookstore until now. Why the change of heart? A little YouTube video that shows a six-hour-long book design process condensed into two minutes. It is incredible! And you can see it for yourself here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoDCiTsS7dU.

Having had to use the InDesign program before, I was floored by the masterful way this design was created. Though the design program in the YouTube video is not InDesign, I imagine the same principles apply, and it would have taken me six hours to do the text boxes alone. The video shows the cover of Blameless, and having been so entranced by the cover, I set out to purchase and read the book. Before long I discovered that Blameless is the third book in Ms. Carriger’s Parasol Protectorate series and its release date appears to be September 2010. This meant I had time to acquire and read the first two books in the series. Though Changeless was in stock everywhere, Soulless was not. The stubborn in-person book buyer in me refused to give up and order it online, and after scouring Phoenix bookstores I triumphed.

Perhaps it is my delight with etiquette, my love of Victorian literature, the allure of anything British, or just the sheer originality of a spinster supernatural dealing with vampires and werewolves while exhibiting the best of manners, but I truly enjoyed this book. The cleverness far outweighed the tongue-in-cheek cheesiness, and I am quite excited to read Changeless in the coming weeks.

You can find out more about Ms. Carriger, her series, and all her proper ways by following her on Twitter at @gailcarriger or by perusing her website at www.gailcarriger.com.

RECOMMENDED: Yep

NEXT READ: Mark Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea

REREAD: Haruki Murakami's The Hard-Boiled Wonderland at the End of the World


Carriger, Gail. Soulless. New York: Orbit, 2009.

Honk If You're Egyptian

Amid all the history, culture, and wonder of Egypt, there is one constant. One persistent feature impossible to ignore. Mummies? No. The image of King Tutankhamun? No again. The pyramids? Egyptians could care less. The unifying factor of all the places we explored in Egypt? The incessant, call-to-prayer-interrupting, often maddening, sound of horns honking. Egyptian's vehicular aural communication is as difficult to decode as the intricate dance of the honeybee. Short honk followed by long. Three short honks. Two long honks. What did it all mean? Each pattern seemed to have some hidden meaning, a Morse code of sorts that only the other erratic Egyptian drivers understand. (Employing a driving style to rival the insanity of the Italians, Egyptians ensure each crossing of the street is a test of speed and agility that not even Frogger would dare to attempt.) As we made our way through each city, each midan, and each street, one honk became abundantly clear: a long, loud, resounding horn meant, simply, get out of the way, and do it fast.

After walking across the border from Israel to Egypt, we were immediately greeted with the most classic of Egyptian customs: being offered "a special deal" that roughly equates to someone thinking you are a sucker who will overpay by about 300%. After politely declining, we had a 2.5 hour drive on a microbus (the same as a sherut in Israel) through Sinai and along the coast of the Red Sea, to a small diving-centered city called Dahab. We rested for a few hours, and then crawled aboard yet another microbus for a 2 hour drive to St. Catherine's Monastery at the foot of the impressive Mt. Sinai of Moses and Ten Commandments fame. The adventure in store? I hike to the top, beginning at 2 AM, in an effort to reach the summit in time to watch the sunrise. As we trekked up the steep, dark, cold, camel-lined trail I concluded two things: I am still terrified of camels and Moses was a crazy person. I must admit, the feat was worth it, the view impressive, and the experience unforgettable. Six hours later, after the hike down, we were back at monastery, visited the burning bush, and then took the microbus back to Dahab where we had a few hours of rest and koshary (which was insanely delicious and only rivaled by the delectable mango juice that was in season), before our overnight bus ride to Cairo.

Cairo put our haggling skills to the test immediately. As soon as we retrieved our baggage from the bus we were offered yet another "special discount" on a cab ride to our hostel. The offer? Two hundred Egyptian pounds. The offer after converting to USD? Around $36. The hilarity of it? The cab ride should only cost about 30 Egyptian pounds (around $6). Which, after an epic bout of haggling, was what we paid to get to Talaat Harb Square, our neighborhood for the next five days.

Cairo is gigantic. With a population of 25 million people it is sprawling, fast-paced, and has a modern downtown with historic areas scattered throughout. We explored Old Cairo, Coptic (Christian) Cairo, the island in the middle of the Nile, and walked our legs off on daily ventures into different directions into the city, and I think Josh can attest that I sampled the mango juice that each area had to offer. Of course, everywhere we went people wanted to help us out. Not only were we welcomed by dozens of Cairenes everywhere we walked, but they also offered to accompany us to where we were headed so that we wouldn't get lost. This assistance inevitably had one of two results. The first result: we would, just happen, to walk right by a store where our guide would receive a commission if something were purchased (I believe "high-pressured sales" does not quite do this phenomenon justice). The second result: we would, not so nicely, be demanded to proffer up a baksheesh (tip or bribe). This practice borders on the absurd. Imagine someone offering to give you directions, and then upon dispensing the unsolicited information, that person demands that you pay them. Or if you happen to take a picture of, say, the Nile, some random person might insist that pictures are not allowed unless you pay them. Keep in mind that this is a lie, you know it is a lie, and you realize the person has no authority, but you then cave into handing over the 3 Egyptian pounds (60 cents) in the face of an escalating disagreement that potentially, usually, results in someone yelling at you in harsh Arabic, that I suspect involves some cursing.

Alexandria, 2 hours by train northwest of Cairo, offered a beautiful reprieve from such antics. We walked from the central train station along the corniche (the road along the shore) to the Library of Alexandria. On the way, not only did we enjoy the peace of looking at our map and guidebook without offers of help or demands for baksheesh, but we had the most delicious meal of our trip. What could have been more fitting than a grilled fish freshly caught from the Mediterranean accompanied by baba ghanoush, fresh vegetables, sauteed peppers and onions, and the requisite side of french fries? And then to top it off with the Library of Alexandria?! I beelined to the literature section (800) and the presence of the classics on the shelves of this most historic of libraries sent my heart all aflutter. It was amazing, and beautiful, and the best part is that it is a fully functioning, high tech, modern institution. The ample seating was being utilized by university students doing what university students do in libraries: finishing homework, napping on open notebooks, and, of course, Facebooking.

But what would any trip to Egypt be without a visit to the pyramids? We saw them all: Giza, the Sphinx (I know, I know, not a pyramid), the Red, the Bent, and the first-ever attempt at a pyramid: the Step. They were magnificent. And those are only the major ones. We went inside the pyramid of Pepi I, and also hung out in Djoser's funerary complex. The whole experience was nothing short of amazing. To see hieroglyphs in person! To be inside a pyramid and have that eerie feeling that you are in someone's burial chamber! To walk to the crest of a sand dune and see even more, lesser known pyramids fill the skyline! I am so lucky to fulfill what was truly a childhood dream, and it was worth every baksheesh paid along the way.

1 Shekel, 2 Shekalim

After a week spent in Israel, Josh and I only realized en route to Egypt that the plural of shekel (Israel's currency) is not shekels, as we had been so fondly calling them. The proper pluralization, apparently, requires the addition of '-im.' Still, I think the shekel is my all-time favorite name of a currency. I have also taken poetic licenses and more than once told Josh, "A shekel saved is a shekel earned." I'm not sure how Mr. Franklin would feel about my alteration of his well-known adage, but I choose to think he'd take it in moderation.

I'm not sure how to describe the plane flight from New York to Tel Aviv. I suppose turbulent suffices for both the cloud-induced bumps, as well as the behavior of the passengers. I've never thought that flight attendants were so close to using physical force -- those Israelis did not want to stay seated, did not want their seat belts fastened, and did not want their seat backs and trays in the upright position. I cannot count the number of times a flight attendant had to announce, "Get back in your seat! Yes, you, sir. You are the one in the aisle." And when I deplaned I had never seen such disarray! The mess left on that plane is nearly indescribable. There were cups, in-flight magazines, plastic utensils, and airline blankets, and pillows strewn everywhere. It was as if all airline-related paraphernalia had tried to stage a revolt.

As we stepped into the Tel Aviv airport, we readied ourselves for the high level of security scrutiny about which we had been forewarned, but traveling through the airport was a breeze. In fact, that was a repeated pattern: our expectations pleasantly debunked. To be perfectly candid, I haven't written sooner because I haven't wanted to take time to stop exploring Jerusalem and then Tel Aviv. Jerusalem was more than anything I could have expected. Not only was it amazingly traveler-friendly, it was amazingly friendly in general. Without a doubt, our typical Western notions of the city do it a great disservice. There was merely a fraction of the conservative attitude we had been lead to expect, and where the conservative did exist, it seemed the only expectations on visitors were simply to respect it, and not to adhere to it. Except for a rogue tout (who, after we refused his services, in hindsight, deliberately told us the wrong path to take to Mt. Zion) everyone was immensely welcoming and helpful. The residents of Jerusalem seem almost as if they want visitors to love the Holy City the same way they do, and were especially handy to help with directions. We experienced this within 5 minutes of entering the city after our sherut (shared taxi) dropped us off. Because where would it drop us off if not on a random street corner in the middle of a strange, new city? And what could be more comical than Josh being completely convinced the sherut driver had pointed down the street, and me being absolutely sure he had pointed us up the street? In the end, it seem we had been pointed across the street. As we stood with our backpacks looking up at the street signs, down at the map, and up at the street signs again, not one, but two passersby, stopped to offer us help.

After that, navigating was a piece of cake. We walked our feet off in the Old City, where Christianity, Islam, and Judaism coexist in one gigantic walled-in city, filled with souqs, markets, restaurants, churches, and mosques. Over two days we toured the Old City, visited the oh-so-new-and-modern Israel Museum, walked the Via Dolorosa (Way of Sorrows aka the stations of the cross), hiked down from the Mt. of Olives, visited the sight where Jesus was believed to be buried, and I had some mighty delicious bagels and lox, shawarma (scrumptious seasoned meat, usually in a sandwich or pita), and a few other Isreali staple foods. Then, it was off to Tel Aviv, where I put my academic pants on and presented a paper on publishing at Israel's First Academic Writing Conference and later attended some interesting lectures. Then, I had one of the best burgers of my life, topped with grilled eggplant and Bulgarian cheese. Tel Aviv is exciting. Every street has its own personality, and we stayed in the city center, and then by the beach, where I thoroughly enjoyed a dip in the Mediterranean.

So, on Sunday we took a four-hour bus ride from Tel Aviv to the border city of Eilat, took bus 15 to the border crossing in Taba, paid our 98.5 shekel (25.26 USD) exit fee in Israel, and walked over the border to Egypt, where I am writing from now. I can't wait to follow all the advice on my brother Mike's "Egyptian To Do List" which mostly includes the cheapest places to acquire food. We are off to eat dinner at one of his recommendations in Dahab called Koshary House, which features an authentic Egyptian dish consisting of pasta, rice, spicy tomato sauce, lentils, and fried onions. I will let you know how it is!