Mellow Metropolitan Medellin

The mere mention of Medellin brings up images of Pablo Escobar’s infamous drug cartel hit men gunning down policemen in the streets and reigning king over the hillside barrios. I did lots of research before deciding to make this stop. Once considered the most dangerous city in the world, the murder rate dropped in 2009 to it’s lowest point in 30 years. Now on the incline again, I figured I had better go before the upswing trend continues! Besides, if it was safe enough for Anthony Bourdain, I figure it was safe enough for me. Continue reading

Bogota First Impressions

Follow along on my whirlwind tour through Colombia where the tourism slogan is “Colombia — The only risk is you won’t want to leave!”

It is a beautifully rich country full of lush green mountain vistas, gorgeous white beaches, a proud and friendly culture, and plenty of creole-Caribbean style cuisine with lots of fresh seafood and tropical fruits.

First Stop:  Bogota

At 60 degrees, foggy and a bit rainy, it is much colder in Bogota than I had anticipated due to the high elevation.  I packed mostly for the tropics, which meant mostly summer clothes, so I spent the entire 3 days in the same warmer clothes from the plane ride. Continue reading

Tel Aviv — Old versus New

Shalom!  Or shall I say “!שָׁלוֹם עֲלֵיכֶם”  I have rented a laptop from the hotel, and it has taken me 18 minutes to figure out how to type on it in anything but Hebrew!

It was a long trip, as I had about a 12 hour layover in Barcelona, putting me into Tel Aviv at 4:00am, what seemed like the middle of the night as I had to bang on windows and doors to try to wake the hostel night watchman.  I fell out like a zombie, awakening just in time so as not to miss my free breakfast!  As many times as I have visited the Middle East, seems I will never get used to tomatoes, cucumbers, and feta cheese as breakfast fare.

Nothing cures a case of jet lag like a trip to the sunny beach.  Tel Aviv looks very much like a European version of Miami Beach with one high rise after another, and lots of beach-side cafes and restaurants, color-coded umbrellas, kite surfing, wind sailing, and even a few sailboats. The wind is hellaciously high here, so the water is a bit rough beyond the breakers, but thankfully there are jetties spaced pretty close together which make for a pretty pleasurable swim in spite of the stiff breeze.

But first before my swim, I hopped the city bus bound for the old Arabic town of Jaffe. (No, not Gaza, Mom!)  This incredibly scenic old town right on the waterfront overlooks a port full of old fishing boats and nets, bustling food and flea markets, and lots of interesting history, with it’s natural port in use reportedly all the way back to the Bronze Age.

Lonely Planet recommended a local restaurant as having the best hummus in all of Israel — I can’t speak for all of Israel, but it was certainly the best I had ever eaten!! It was “roll eyes back in the head” good! It sounds strange, but in addition to pita bread, they gave you big, sweet onion wedges to dip in the hummus like tortilla chips. MAN, was it good!

It is brutally hot here, more so than I expected, but also gets dark earlier, so twilight was my preferred time of day to swim in the beautiful Mediterranean sea.  The water temperature, depth, and wave action were all just to my liking, and the perfect setting to watch the sunset while gently bobbing in the waves, as the crowds moved from the beach chairs to the candle-lit outdoor cafes along the water.

It is an interesting contrast to experience two areas of the city so different from each other, yet in plain sight of each other, only about 3 miles apart. Tel Aviv is all concrete and glass highrises, while Jaffe is old stone, mosque minarets, and looks more like an old fort jutting out toward the sea.

It was interesting to ponder this contrast while swimming in the ocean this eve, as I could see the old clock tower in the distance, just beyond the high rises. Then, you have to think what lies just a little further south than that….Gaza, where they are not even allowed concrete to build, or spices for their cooking. I couldn’t help but wonder what swimming was like along their beach.  Hardly think it would be the same expensive ice cream shops, chaise lounges, and posh mirrored hotels reflecting back the sunset.  It is an interesting study of contrasts in a country only the size of Vermont.

Ice cream obscurity, six bucks a scoop!

I am eager to get on to Jerusalem — as much as I love the ocean, I have never really been the “Miami Beach type!!”

Yazd All, Folks!

Badgirs, or wind towers

The next morning, we were up early headed for Yazd, considered by some to be “the oldest living city on earth,” inhabited over 7,000 years ago and one of the principle trade routes along the Silk Road.  The old part of town was made up of a maze of winding lanes through mud brick buildings, many of them topped by “badgirs,” or wind towers constructed on the rooftops to capture the wind — nature’s own air conditioner!

Our friends from the caravanseri at the Zoroastrian Temple

Yazd contains the largest concentration of Zoroastrians, the ancient religion that was later replaced by Islam.   Our first stop would be the Zoroastrian Fire Temple, which contains an eternal flame that has reportedly been burning since 470 AD.   As we walked through the gate, we ran face to face with the wild ladies from the night before, yelling, whistling, and waiving, leaving us feeling a little like “the morning after.”  It took forever to get away from there, because they all wanted to pose for photos with our group, so our poor guide just finally gave up any hope of “crowd control.”   The closest I will ever come to feeling like a rock star!

Old city of Yazd

Our one day in Yazd was spent getting lost in the winding streets, taking hundreds of photos, touring more mosques, more bazaars, more kababs in more tea houses, and still I was not tired of it all.    But alas, all good things must come to an end, as we boarded our flight bound for Tehran.   The two separate security screening areas for men and women always struck me as peculiar, but not nearly as peculiar as hearing “America the Beautiful” playing over the intercom at the Kerman airport.

Now at the end of the organized tour, our group went for a farewell dinner at a cute little courtyard restaurant near the Englehab hotel.   We each tried to narrow down to our favorite part of the trip which proved to be impossible to pick just one, as every day had been such a rich cultural experience.   We shared lots of laughs, then came back to the hotel for an “unveiling,” as we all went up to one of the hotel rooms and one by one stripped off our headscarves so each could see for the first time what the other looked like with HAIR!   Then we made the guys all put on headscarves to see what it felt like for the last fourteen days with a yard of fabric wound tightly around our heads in the scorching desert heat!!

The unveiling, or first time we had seen each other's hair!

The next day, I boarded a Lufthansa flight bound for Frankfurt.   As soon as the plane lifted off with the announcement that we had reached our cruising altitude, now in international air space, I ripped off my headscarf, shook out my hair, and ordered my first glass of red wine in two weeks.   As I savored the deep red, aromatic glass of red swirling beneath my nostrils, I pondered this very symbolic celebration of freedom, which tasted sweeter than the wine itself.

Beautiful night view of mosque in Yazd

Every moment in Iran was a phenomenal experience that I hope I never forget.   In the end, the architecture, the history, the food all far exceeded my expectations.   But the part that touched my heart was the overwhelming outpouring of hospitality from the Iranian people who said time and time again, “I hope our countries can be friends.”     I hope so too….”Inshallah…”

Night of the Thousand Headscarves

Caravanseri in the desert

On the way through the desert, we stopped at a 400-year old Caravanserai “Zein–o-din,” out in the middle of absolute nowhere.   About halfway there, the caravanserai which typically prepares dinner upon request called our guide to inform him that they were expecting a large group for dinner, and they did not have enough plates and flatware to serve everyone so we were on our own for dinner.  Continue reading

Turn Around Point: Kerman

Kerman would be southernmost turnaround point of our tour before heading back north.  Now closer to the Pakistani border, the clothing styles began to change.  Many of the men wore what looked like a long, knee length night shirt over same color baggy pants.  I didn’t notice a change in the women’s styles, though as it still ranged between the all black chador head to toe, to the short, tight manteaus (knee-length coats) with the sleeves and hems creeping dangerously shorter. Continue reading