Backpack London: PS, Are You Greek?

My last day in London was fun, but you already read about that. There is one thing I have to mention before I take you on my Roma adventure...

Before I got back on the Tube (I LOVE SUBWAYS) to go to Heathrow, I wandered into the downtown version of Dalia's grocery store to buy rice pudding, as I am now in love with the British delicacy. Then, I went across the street to get another tasty sandwich from EAT, which is like Pret A Manger, but less expensive. If you're a NY person you know from Pret, and if you're not, then, just know that EAT is even better!

When I was in EAT, wearing my sunglasses, a long-sleeved shirt and the ever-present Aurora NorthFaceofStyle, the guy behind the counter asked me a question. (Editorial note: I was also wearing pants and shoes.) I pushed my sunglasses up like a headband, so I could see what he was saying better (I listen with a variety of senses), and he looked at my carefully.

His next words formed a hilarious question: "Are you Greek?"

I couldn't believe it. Is it my eyebrows? My year living in the AEPhi house and the accompanying occasional glitter consumption? Was there an errant bit of red glitter sticking to my face from 2001? Was I shaking some blue and gold sparkles out of my underwear like in 2002? I am pretty sure I don't look Greek, but I was flattered.

Maybe I had some eyemakeup left over from 2003?

Sneak peek of my adventures in the Vatican, but really, I just want to show off my sunglasses-head, Greek look.

First in Petra I get told I look Jordanian. Then, in London, it's Greek. I wonder what nationality guesses I will get when I go on my next adventure?

PS -- It's LEAP DAY! How cool is that? The next time I write anything on a Leap Day (unless I finish my first Rome post before Shabbat), it'll be 2012. I'll be 30. Oh, dear God. 30?! The horror!

Days 1-3: Of Hostel Environments

I also had some pretty fabulous experiences staying in a hostel. I've never done it before, except for Beit Gesher with Pilgrimage, and that totally doesn't count. Trust me, if you're going to stay in a hostel, stay at the one I stayed at in London. It was fab-u-lous, and while I was not born yesterday, the hostel certainly seemed to have been constructed yesterday. It was brand-spanking new! I wouldn't say I made any friends, but we had some interesting conversations. Below gives you an idea of the setup of my days in the hostel.

Anya's backpack, now stuffed with myriad Borders purchases.

The hostel room "refrigerator."

The view from my "refrigerator." Hostel was on Bolsover street, close to Oxford Circus.

Hostel Locker!

Hostel Bed + SBB's stuff!

Just as an FYI...I love the Tube!

Day 3: Of Towers and History (Boys)

The next morning, I woke up refreshed and determined to make my way to the Changing of the Guard. I wore WAY more clothes and made my way to Buckingham Palace AGAIN. I staked out a similar spot on the fence, again, and set to wait, again. This time, I came prepared with sustenance. I sat and ate my breakfast and watched the tourists mill around. Over the course of 45 minutes, I saw millions of people wandering around, got crushed against a fence, and marveled at the pomp and circumstance of the transfer of a key.

Aurora The Wonder-North Face holds my spot for me.

Luckily, I made friends with two lovely grownup people next to me at the fence. Hailing from Atlanta, we talked about their travels, where to go in London, what was too expensive for a student and what I absolutely HAD to see. They were interested in my studies in Israel, and I explained a little bit about my life in Jerusalem. We also talked about security, Bush and politics. You can talk about a lot while waiting for the guard.

The waiting paid off, when the guards (there are two, because they are switching) FINALLY showed up. The layers of people behind me pressed me forward at a weird angle, and I leaned up against the fence, flexing my tempermental feet every couple of seconds. Ouch. This stupid position, however, did give me a pretty good vantage point.

I enjoy my staked out spot, watching the guard.

This is one guard, one the side where I was standing. The other guard had these horrible, furry black hats. Made me miss streimels!

"Hi, Nigel. How's the wife?" "Oh, Katherine is having a good time with Quincy. Our little boy is quite the cute little chap!"

Things that ran through my mind during the changing of the guard:
1. It's over an hour? REALLY?!
2. Stop leaning on me!
3. Ohh...I think it's over!
4. Wait...no, I'm not in Petra. Then why are they playing the theme from Indiana Jones...
5. ...and Star Wars? What is going on here!?
6. I would really like a nice bottle of CocaCola Light.
7. Ohh...I think it's over!
8. I think I'll go to the Tower of London.
7. Are cellphone cameras so good now that you don't need a separate digital? How fascinating!
8. Ohh...I think it's over! YES! Off to the Tower!!!

My friends at the fence convinced me that I should go to the Tower of London, at least to see the crown jewels. I arrived at the Tower, and since I've returned, I have explained how expensive London was by stating the price for a student ticket. $26 / 13 pounds! Barf! But I paid it, joined a tour, and learned all about the creepy history of the Tower, which used to house the royal family, be surrounded by a moat of excrement and muck, houses the Beefeaters and their families, and, my personal favorite, stores and displays the crown jewels.

This is the Tower of London's crenulated walls and towers. It's pretty fabulous.

Quoth the raven, nevermore. Apparently, if the Tower's ravens leave the premises, the whole Kingdom will come crashing down. Superstitions. Love them.

This is a Beefeater, otherwise known as a Yeoman Warder. His dry, British humor and dislike of children was hilarious. Also, his uniform is quite fabulous, yes?

They don't let you close to the guards anymore for goofy, Austin Powers-esque pictures. So this is what I got.

The day was warming up, the view was beautiful and the only downside was that the crown jewels are in a no-photo zone. (Link gives you a peek, but does not do the jewels justice. Just imagine the ball dropping in Times Square at New Years and you'll have an idea of the flash!) Lame as that rule was, it was really ridiculous to see a 530-carat diamond that looked like a baseball. In all honesty, the jewels looked fake. There were so many, they were so sparkly, and it was just kind of crazy.

The Tower of London is next to the Tower Bridge, so I visited it on my way out. Before I did that, however, I had some English tea, with a scone and jam and clotted cream (worst name EVER of tastiest stuff EVER) and a piece of banana bread cake. Good deal (just $10!) for London...and really yummy.

The Tower? The Tower!? Rapunzel!! Rapunzel!!!! - Airplane!

After the Tower! the Tower! I wandered my way to the theatre district, and got last-minute TKTS to see the History Boys. The play was excellent, and although it was incredibly British, I managed to keep up. Seeing as how I hadn't changed my outfit, I ended up in the intermission bathroom line in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and my backpack (beloved Aurora, pictured above). A woman in line, affected her snootiest British accent, asked me if I liked the play, and then said it must be difficult for me to understand. What she didn't exactly say was that she thought me a daft American prick who could never possibly understand highbrow British drama. Thankfully, she spoke in a language to which I could respond fully, and let her know that I was fully capable of understanding the plot, and oh, by the way, I am an educator and not only am I learning plenty from the play, but I understand a great deal of the issues in the play. (Part of this conversation took place in my head, but I did tell her off. A little.) It was really nice to be able to mouth off in my own language, one of the parts of my English-speaking life at home I miss so dearly.

Exhausted, I made my way back to the hostel. It was time for bed.

There was morning. There was evening.
The third day.

Backpack, Day 2: Of Heresy and Genius Bars

The next morning, I awoke in my really beautiful hostel room, ready to take over the world. I had the whole day until 7:30PM, when I had to meet my Genius at the Apple store. Off I went to Buckingham Palace.

Buckingham Palace, Take One.

The tour book told me to stake out a good spot for the changing of the guard. The book also said that they don't change the guard every day, but every other day, during the winter. Still, I stood and waited, and eventually saw some people with funny hats on horses go by with a bugle chorus that reminded me more of Spamalot than anything else. A policeman confirmed it - tomorrow would be the day for me! Oh well.

All of a sudden, I was able to understand British humor.

Freezing at Buckingham Palace. All I kept on thinking about here were Buckminster Fullerenes. I am a nerd.

The day was FREEZING, so I stopped off an bought some gloves, and then made my way to Westminster Abbey, where I marveled at a beautiful clock tower, before I even REALIZED it was Big Ben (love my brother Ben, just wanted to say it here), and then found the Abbey. I realized that their minchah-equivalent (where minchah is the afternoon Jewish prayer service), Evensong was at 5PM, so I decided to check out Leicester Square (pronounced Lester) and Trafalgar Square, before going into the Abbey. I took pictures with the Lions at Trafalgar, and ate some food, before I walked back to the Abbey.

Trafalgar Lions. Huuuuuuge!

I love me some Trafalgar Lions. The kid on them gives you a size idea of how huge they really are.

A fellow tourist who shared none of my languages exchanged cameras with me for this rare full-SBB shot in front of Westminster Abbey. I am SO cold here!

Big Ben. Love my brother. Love the clock!

Arch that leads to a park, where you can walk to Buckingham Palace. I was too cold to walk, but here I am at the other end, by Trafalgar Square.

The Abbey was fascinating. A few days earlier, my cousin Chava explained to me that Jews aren't supposed to enter churches and other places of non-Jewish worship so that we don't worship other gods. While I can see where she (and our very best friend the Torah) is coming from, I armed myself with a determination to be rebellious, as always, entering the Abbey remembering not to pray, but also remembering to learn and discover.

Learn and discover, I did! Up until this point, my visits to churches were confined to a childhood concert or play (something non-religious) at the local Catholic church (which I recall vaguely my mother didn't want me to share with people, oops), Hadar egal minyan, housed in a church basement in NYC, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Like the Jerusalem church, I found fabulous artwork, in the forms of carvings, statues and paintings. But this was the first time I realized that church also means crypt, as many famous British bones rested beneath the stones of this church. Like the Hollywood walk of fame, any stone under your foot could read the name of some luminary. My favorite, naturally, was Poets' Corner, with both graves and memorial plaques dedicated to literary Brits. Jane Austen, the Bard, Chaucer and Dickens were some of the names that caught my interest. I even walked out into the gardens, where my favorite flower, daffodil, speckled the carefully-kept lawns. (There is no photography inside the Abbey, so check out the Wikipedia stuff.)

The aforementioned daffodils, my favorite flower. No photography means I can take pictures outside, right? Hmm....

After my wanderings, I hung around for Evensong. Flexing my heathen-muscle, I sat through service, with sung psalms, recited bits of Old and New Testament, and general prayers. To timestamp my day, there was a prayer for all "on this, saint Valentine's day, so that all people can find love of man, as they find love of God" or something along those lines. Suddenly, epiphany (in a church)! It was Valentine's Day! Brits aren't abnormally affectionate or prone to buy single red roses wrapped in cellophane and tied in a pretty bow, they were just celebrating V-Day as we tend to in the States.

After Evensong, I visited Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament from the outside, as their lighting is really pretty at night. I then rushed myself to a bus, as I was really cold outside, and went to the Apple store on Regent Street. Now, my iPod has served me faithfully since Summer 2005, and until that week had been the first iPod in history (speculation) to have its case break before the pod. So, when my iPod seemed to punk out beyond repair just before I went to London, I was optimistic. After all, I can borrow Rafi's iPod for the week, and a Genius will fix my own! Am I the first backpacker to travel with not one, but two iPods? Possibly!

The Eye of London looks like fun, but it costs like $26, so I settle for the free picture, instead.

Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament!

My Genius was sweet, and came equipped with a pleasant British accent (God, how I miss my mother tongue). She laughed at my rigged-with-an-orange-hair-tie case, and then marvelled at my iPod inside the rubber and plastic: "It's in such GOOD condition!" Then the fun ended, as she told me that my hard drive had passed on. I will always remember the good times we had together, at camp and on various trips to and from school and work and on my rollerblades. My Genius offered me a discount on a new iPod, but seeing as how a single day in London can cost roughly $15000000, I decided to opt out for the time being. My beloved Meredith is sending me her former iPod (she has moved on to newer technology and no doubt has some fabulously tiny and delighfully memoryfull Crackberry), a belated birthday present that brings tears to my eyes at the mere thought of it traveling the Atlantic, protected from the elements in a box padded with peanut M&M's (#1 BEST CANDY EVER) as I type these words. I miss Meredith severely.

That fun part of my day completed, and my psyche surprisingly intact (I was surprised at how un-devastated I was at my iPod's demise. I was sure one day it would happen and I would be decimated. Literally, reduced by 10% of who I am and what I want to be. This, however, did not happen. I just smiled and moved on.), I got a large dinner at Subway before trotting off to Notting Hill (not so eventful, but I did buy Cadbury Creme Eggs), and then, a conveniently-located Borders. I bought a few books, and went back to the hostel.

There was morning. There was evening.
The second day.

I Miss New York!

There's still snow melting on the streets of Jerusalem. I took this on Monday at Hebrew U. It reminds me of the brown, slushy walls that crop up after a snow storm in New York (you know, about two minutes after the snowfall).


I miss New York!

Ultra All Inclusive!

When I woke up at the crack of dawn on Thursday, I was not pleased. Not only was I exhausted, but I was greeted by a beautiful, peaceful blanket of snow. All of Jerusalem. The serene quiet that comes with a snow storm teased me, saying "you won't get to Turkey." I stuck out my tongue, got dressed in layers, and crunched my way to Rafi's to meet the 6:45AM sherut / shared taxi. Crunchy snow! And it was still falling! It was really beautiful, and probably the only reason I was able to maintain a semblance of happiness with my 6AM wakeup for a 1:45PM flight.

Before I wised up about the rain boots...

Rafi and I waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. 45 minutes, 20 frozen toes, a few snow-art attempts, a hideout in the slightly-above-freezing stairwell, and a bulldozer-turned-snowplow spotting later, the sherut came, and Rafi and I were OFF to Ben Gurion! As a bonus, we got a tour of all-snowy Jerusalem. It was really breathtaking. AND my toes finally unfroze by the time we got to the airport -- about 2 hours early for check-in.

And then, in Turkey, on the coast of the Mediterranean...my feet win!

The separation barrier and snow. We took Road 443, and the separation wall/barrier runs along the side of parts of the highway to the airport.

We finally checked in, went to the terminal to enjoy kosher McDonald's (something I am opposed to in real life, but support in the few kosher outposts in Israel), and then eventually to board our plane. As a Turkey-unrelated sidenote, I find it interesting that while I really dislike fast food (Not you, Subway. I love you!), find it wrong, and fattening, and gross, I REALLY loved going to McDonald's. Maybe it's the I-Don't-Eat-That-Stuff holier-than-thou mindset you get in college / high school when keeping kosher amongst those who do not. Maybe it's the horrible additives that McD's puts into their food, making me crave it. But I ate McDonald's at TLV like I was dining at my favorite New York Italian restaurant (bonus points if you guess correctly in the comments). I guess I can make allowances for a McDonald's that sells Israeli salad and McKebab.

Tel Aviv airport means one thing to kosher kids -- McDonald's.

I'm going to pretend that kashrut (or, in this label's case, Hebrew writing) makes McDonald's less disgusting. Yay, kashrut!

Super Size Me! I'm hooked!

The flight to Turkey was fine, as was the customs experience (here's $20 so you can give me a sticker), and the trip to the resort. Once at the resort, Rafi and I took to eating tons, walking around the hotel and on the other shore of the Mediterranean, and trying to figure out Turkish. We were, at best, wildly unsuccessful. I spent some time in the Turkish bath (amazing), and both of us spent time in the pool (not bad). On Saturday night, we went to a multi-lingual comedy show that was so terrible, words can't even describe it -- in German, Russian, English, OR Turkish. Let's just say any improv night at any given summer camp where we've worked displayed a finer grasp on comedy and creativity. It did really make the whole trip seem like a cruise, though.

As Rafi pointed out, that's Israel in the distance. Can't see Her? That's ok, you can trust me.

Requisite "Look, we went on vacation!" picture.

The best part of the trip? Apart from the visas and the Turkish bath, it was Ultra All Inclusive. Wine? Sure! Cakes? Of course! Italian dinner with 12 courses (give or take)? But of course! Rafi and I enjoyed that -- and the unlimited, FREE minibar.

Another "We went on vacation and we're so cute!" picture.

Ultra All Inclusive means that the minibar is FREE!

The trip back was uneventful (although we did stop in the outside-the-terminal McDonalds for an interesting lunch), and I've been doing schoolwork ever since. Let's hear it for a trip to the lovely land of Antalya, Turkey, where the weather rarely dips below 15 degrees Celsius (where rarely = when I am there).

We went back to McD's, Rafi got a McKebab, and it was AWESOME. Whyever don't they market it in the states?

Maybe the best thing about Turkey. In Turkish, "Stop" is "Dur."

PS -- Turkish delight is pretty repulsive. It's like passover jelly candy, but covered with powdered sugar, instead of granluated.

שלג! / Sheleg! / Snow!

People had been warning me for days that it was going to snow in Jerusalem, but I was all "whatever" and "I'll believe it when I see it" and "as an authentic New Yorker, I fart in Jerusalem snow's general direction" and so on and so forth. That being said, I got scared into submission to the snow, and stayed and waited in Jerusalem on Tuesday, waiting for the snow to fall. The first disgusting, slushy flakes fell when I was eating Yemenite food with Rafi. Wintry mix. Ick.

Over the course of the evening, I went to hang out with Rafi and his roommate and went to bed at a reasonable hour (it happens!). It snowed a little. When I woke up, early (By early, of course, I mean 10 or 11. I'm on break!) in the morning, I walked outside to some serious, stuck snow. Or what was once stuck, and had promptly become slush.

Snow on a mini-frog (They call the big, green garbage dumpsters "frogs" in Hebrew, so I've decided that this one is a mini-frog.)

Snow-covered car, Israeli plates.

The stairs to my apartment. Real, authentic snow. In Jerusalem. Amazing.

I spent most of the day inside, working on my thesis (yes!), and then, after she braved the nasty, slush/sleet/snowish, hanging out with Shiran. I love Shiran, and I'm happy for her that she's going to India -- but I'm REALLY going to miss her.

Shiran and I take time to pretend we're having fun at Gan HaTzfira (the park on my street, HaTzfira). As you can see, I learned a valuable lesson this year: I can wear my North Face Brand Snobby Fleece with a hoodie and be warm enough for snow temps.

Check out the snowflake that fell in front of the camera, blocking a bit of my hoodie. Cool, huh? By the way, rain boots in snow = dry, FROZEN feet. I had to blow dry my toes for a good 15 minutes after hanging outsite with Shiran and later, Ita.

Let's make a list of things that won't happen to Shiran in India...

Shiran and I warm up in Coffeeshop.

Gan HaTzfira, snowcapped.

After Shiran left, I ran into Ita. Ita plays in the park, looking all Israeli, with plastic bags in her rain boots!

Shiran and I eventually went outside to brave the cold (Yes, I will admit it. It was cold.) to see if any restaurants were open. We ended up in Coffeeshop, which I think has terrible service, but I also think that they have the BEST breakfast (deal) EVER, and they serve it all day long. We hung out for a while, and then stood at the bus stop, freezing, until Shiran was able to make her way to the central bus station.

Wednesday night, I watched a movie with my roommates and then looked outside to see something astounding -- more SNOW, sticking on the neighbors' roof. I went to bed, worrying about what the morning would hold. Stay tuned to hear about my adventures in getting to TLV - Ben Gurion International Airport and from there, to Turkey!

The versatility of Israeli bulldozers. Usually, I'm a-bulldozin' Palestinian homes. Today, I plow Emek Refayim.

7AM on Emek Refayim. I'm waiting for the Nesher to Turkey, and catch this bulldozer on film. Yay!

Translation: Sara Beth Loves Snow!