Tag Archives: Road Trip Blog

Egyptian Time Dragging By

Mommy, when will the bride and groom come?

TRAVEL THERE: WHERE ARE THE BRIDE AND GROOM?

In case you’re just joining us, let me remind you where we are.  I’ve just attended my first Coptic wedding, an amazing experience.  Now I’m sitting in the Pearl Ballroom of the Heliopolis Fairmont, waiting for the arrival of the bride and groom.  I didn’t join my husband as he went to work the room, because I had a broken shoe and didn’t want to wander around barefoot.  There is no food, no drink and no music, because nothing is supposed to happen until the bride and groom arrive.  Everyone around me is speaking a language I don’t understand.  I haven’t eaten since breakfast and we’re coming up on ten o’clock.  The adventure is wearing thin and my bed is beginning to sound pretty good to me.  The promised buffet and belly dancer aren’t as compelling as they seemed before.

Angry with No One to be Mad at

Don’t you just hate it when you find yourself growing madder with every minute that passes and you don’t even have anyone to blame.   Of course, Bill would be using the time to visit with old friends.  He didn’t tell me to stay at the table because my shoe broke.  I made that decision myself.  And who exactly could I blame for my broken shoe.  I chose them out of my large collection of shoes and I have no idea when or where I’d bought them.  It was no one’s fault but mine that I was the only woman in the room with slicked back hair.  My nieces had tried to get me to have my hair puffed up professionally.  I couldn’t blame anyone else for the fact that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  Who besides me decides to diet on a vacation to a wedding?  I couldn’t even blame anyone for the fact that they were all talking to each other in another language.  I’ve been married to Bill for over 20 years.  I’d had plenty of time to learn a little Arabic if I’d wanted to to.

Even without basic language skills I began to realize this wait was a little longer than the usual Egyptian wedding reception.  The blame for the delay was generously passed around.  Some said it was because the wedding was on a holiday and there wasn’t enough staff to take care of everything.  Some blamed the caterer, who was, by the way, out of town directing the whole thing via phone.  Some blamed the couple themselves for not coming down to join their guests and rumors of wild partying in the bridal suite spread out among the tables.  Some blamed the groom and his family.  Others blamed the bride and her family.  We didn’t have anything to eat or drink, but there was plenty of blame to share.

It Gets Better, But Not For Me

Beautiful Family – Bill’s sister and our grandniece

Because of the extreme wait, some changes to tradition were made.  Someone finally delivered a plate of mezza to the table. I wanted to grab it and find a corner to devour it in, but I played it cool. I had a couple of olives and a few bites of something else. Later I regretted my restraint. Everyone must have been as hungry as me, because every crumb disappeared almost immediately.

They also loosened up the liquor, but when the drinks finally did arrive, it was just scotch.  On the night before the wedding the bride juggled guests while the groom juggled scotch.  There was not going to be a bar or champagne. Mind you, they drink very good scotch, but that’s all they drink.  Bottles of the popular beverage enhancer were placed on the table in generous proportions, but I don’t drink scotch – at all. The room got friendlier and the blame for the delay got gentler.

I had to make do with Coke Zero.  It took so much effort to get a can of it, I dared not do more than sip, because I might never see another. I soon felt very much like the designated driver, only it didn’t come with any of the satisfaction serving that the role usually provides. I was just the only person in the room over four feet tall who was not drinking – and I was starving.

I learned from the four foot tall crowd that there was a sweets station.  It was cute, with cupcakes and candy, but no true cure for hunger.  Out of desperation I sampled some of the choices, but too much sugar when I’m hungry only gives me a headache and I hate wasting calories.  So I continued to suffer in silence.

Will the bride and groom ever show up?  Come back next week and find out!

 

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Sun Basket Arrives

TRAVEL HERE: AND SO DOES HELLO FRESH

Trying out all the available meal kit plans does not come without some challenges.  While they are basically all doing the same thing, trying to juggle several of them at once can trip you up.  That’s how I ended up with two boxes of food in one week.  We’d skipped a week to go out of town and somehow, though I meant to just get Sun Basket, I also got Hello Fresh. See what I go through for you guys!

A Color Change

I guess it would be no surprise that Sun Basket’s (SB) color theme is yellow.  Right away I thought their pictorial box was more engaging than the text heavy Hello Fresh (HF) box, but something about that crisp Blue Apron (BA) box still gets the points in my book.

Opening Up the Box

SB used the same grocery bag packing method as Hello Fresh, however, their bags were smaller and I was able to put them in the refrigerator.  That put them ahead of Hello Fresh, but behind Blue Apron.

In the box were several pieces of literature.  A nice welcome brochure topped the pile.  Next I realized SB sent a magazine-like booklet instead of the cards I had gotten from the other two.  Since I had already started a binder to hold my recipe cards for future reference, SB was bucking the system.  I’m calling it a tie between HF and BA, with SB making a foul.

The magazine is attractive, but it has all the recipes SB offers for the week, so in my opinion they are wasting paper.  I only needed the recipes I had ordered.  What’s more, they assumed I already know how to cook, so they completely did away with the how-to pictures I found so helpful with the other two services.  I do know how to cook, but it was nice to have a picture to refer to when I was following the directions.  Since I liked BA’s recipe card better than HF’s, BA steps into the lead.

No one else would probably even notice this, but there’s a difference in all the boxes’ insulating materials, too.  SB uses some generic foam insulation they have cut-to-size inside the box.  They tell you to roll it up and send you tape to keep it rolled up.  It was such nice sheets of foam that we put them in the attic in case we needed something like that.  HF uses a different style of foam covered in a shiny material that is designed to fit the box, rather than generic stuff cut-to-size.  My friends at BA have wonderfully customized pieces that have all kinds of wonderful BA messages on them.  Points to BA.

Preparing the Meal

SB follows HF’s method of preparation, instead of BA’s, which means you prep the ingredients for each portion of the meal as you work through them, rather than getting all that out of the way ahead of time.  However, they also print that part of the instructions in a different color ink, so that people like me, who want to do all the peeling, chopping and stuff at first, can follow their inclination.  So points to BA.  SB is only slightly less desirable and HF loses this point.

To me, the SB instructions were easy to follow, because they were specific about times and not so dependent on do-this-until-that-happens, as HF had been.  However, I had that whole magazine thing to move around the kitchen with me and there are no pictures with the instructions.  By the end of the preparation, the book was a mess, just like the cards, but I still had two more meals to prepare out of the messy book.  Taking all that into consideration, Blue Apron is still winning in the preparation portion of the meal.

SB edged close to BA when it came to the items they expect you to provide. Olive Oil, salt and pepper are the only things they require you to keep on hand.  HF expects you to also keep butter on hand for them.  So SB and BA should be in a tie, except that I’m a real fan of butter and in my opinion, BA has better butter than SB and the packaging is superior.  BA butter comes in a little round foil covered package.  Both the consistency and the flavor are excellent.  SB butter is in a small plastic tub and looks like it was cut off the same stick of butter as is in my refrigerator.  Points to BA and HF loses a point.

The biggest SB fail was in fulfillment quality.  On day one, there was a frozen (read that useless) cucumber, a lemon with a big spot on it and an iffy shallot.  The salmon was disappointing, too.  It said it was Wild Yukon River Wild-caught Salmon., but you could have fooled me.  Looked run-of-the-mill.  Pretty much the same fish I reject in Kroger’s seafood department.  The following SF day there was no paprika packet in bag for the paprika butter.

I’m not giving any points here and it’s one of the most important categories.  BA has the highest quality, but they regularly leave stuff out.  There’s usually at least one failed ingredient a week and their steaks are gristly.  HF gets everything in the box, but it falls short on being the quality I expect.  If I wanted their ingredient quality, I could get it at Kroger.  I’d still have to do the planning and shopping, of course, but part of what I want in the service is superior ingredients.

So how was the food.  Come back next week and I’ll tell you.

 

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Wedding Day in Cairo Egypt

Wedding Invitation

TRAVEL THERE: A VERY DIFFERENT KIND OF CEREMONY

So far, Bassem and Miriam’s wedding day has been pretty mundane, if you don’t count the machine guns on our bus.  Once the church doors opened, everything changed.  We were at a Coptic Wedding.

Saint Mark Coptic Church

When the huge doors opened, the scent of incense wafted out into the waiting crowd and I was awestruck.  The church was gorgeous, obviously very, very old, but beautiful.  You got the impression God had been hanging out here for a very long time.

It was not a particularly large church, but it was grandly decorated with beautiful paintings and an amazing amount of gold.  There was no formal seating going on.  Everyone just wandered in and took a seat.  There was no his side and her side, just folks wandering into a pew as they entered.  The family was sort of huddled over to one side.  We had some front row seats, but they certainly were not particularly advantageous.

Forget What You Know About Weddings

Throw out preconceptions, because this had nothing in common with your basic American wedding.  The bride and groom were seated in thrones at the front of the church.  The photographers and videographers considered themselves very much part of the ceremony and spread themselves out across the front of the church.  Joining them on the stage were a group of priests in decidedly Coptic garb.

Coptic Officiants at the Wedding

Now I’ve been to weddings where there were more than one officiant.  Sometimes it’s because each family wants to be represented or there are several members of the clergy in the family.  This wedding had an entire crowd of priests.  They’re the guys wearing the black turbans, but these four in the picture are only a sample.

I was made to understand the number of priests reflected the status of the people getting married and no one could remember a wedding where they’d seen more priests.  Most gratifying was the priest who had come all the way from Sharm El Sheik because of my niece, who holds such a special place in their congregation.  Each of the priests participated in one way or another.  Some doing ceremonial duty and others delivering pithy little sermonettes to the bride and groom. (None of which I could understand, of course, because they were in either Coptic or Arabic.)

All the while, the church was a beehive of activity.  Along with all the priests were acolytes and altar boys wandering around doing a variety of tasks, from swinging incense burners to lighting candles.  At one point my nephew Shady went up to read the Bible.  Also any time a priest wasn’t involved in the ceremony, they were kept busy blessing whoever came up to the stage, bowed before them and kissed their hands.

Folks seeking blessings weren’t the only ones who came up to the stage.  As if the photography and videography crew of about six people weren’t enough, no one hesitated to pop right up out of their seat and head up to the front to get a picture – and if the best angle was between the priest and the wedding couple, then so be it.   

Behind their back, their very expensive decorations are already coming down

I was gob-smacked.  I couldn’t believe it.  The bride and groom were almost an after-thought in all the frenetic activity.  Suddenly it was all over. The bride and groom stood.  A few pictures were taken and we all filed out of the church.

Let the Turnover Begin

I was still trying to  process what I had seen, when I realized that as soon as the bride and groom had their back towards the stage, folks started tearing down the decorations so they could get set for the next wedding.

An American church might have 2 or three weddings on a given day, but Coptic churches schedule about an hour per wedding and stack them all day long, from early in the morning until late in the evening – especially on holidays like the day after Easter.  If they get behind, which apparently they always do, then they just hurry you up a little more.

Once we were outside, you could see they had already redecorated the entry to the church and on a corner near the church were the floral remains of several different ceremonies.  Egyptians do have a receiving line, but it’s held on the porch of the church, rather than at the reception. As the wedding party assembled into the obligatory formation, a limo pulled up in front of the church.  I will never forget seeing the bride get out of the limo, go through the security routine we had and then climb up the stairs to the sanctuary.  It was one of those odd scenes that you can’t erase.

Then it was back in the bus and back to the Fairmont.

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Cooking with Hello Fresh

TRAVEL TALK: THE PROOF IS IN THE PUDDING

So, by the time I had unpacked my box from Hello Fresh, they were already way behind the Blue Apron Experience.  However, we’d changed services for the benefit of my hubby.  Did things get any better?

Time to Cook

In spite of all my little disappointments, the proof is in the pudding – not the packaging.  If I could have a happy husband, I could live without the Blue Apron knick knacks bag.  Only cooking wasn’t quite as much fun either.

At first glance, the recipe cards for Blue Apron and Hello Fresh are very similar.  One is formatted in Portrait and the other in Landscape, but that is irrelevant to the outcome of the meal.  For the most part, both cards contain the same information, but Hello Fresh completely missed the opportunity to tell me how delicious the recipe was going to be and what delightful ingredients I had received.  Aesthetically Blue Apron is more attractive to me.  Every item in every picture is upscale and pristine, just as you would expect in a gourmet kitchen.  Hello Fresh has more mundane accouterments in their photographs, including a stained cooking sheet.  Bad form Hello Fresh.  Points to Blue Apron.

Then I started cooking and the points went to Blue Apron – AGAIN.  The instructions are so much easier to follow on Blue Apron.  For one thing, Blue Apron has you prep all the items before you start cooking, so everything is ready before you actually start the tricky stuff.  Hello Fresh intersperses the prep work in with the cooking, so you have to stop all the way along to prep something else.  On my third meal, I went through the recipe and underlined all the prep work and did it before I started the rest of it, but that was a hassle.

Also, Blue Apron is virtually foolproof.  It gave simple instructions and then told you how long to do whatever it was you were supposed to do to the food – roast for 10 minutes, turning over halfway; cook over medium high heat for 3 minutes, stirring constantly – that sort of thing.  With Hello Fresh there was a whole lot more do-this-until-that-happens, which leaves a whole lot up to chance. Yep, points to Blue Apron.

With Blue Apron, all you add from your own kitchen is olive oil, salt and pepper.  Hello Fresh also asks for butter and sugar in addition.  Points to Blue Apron.

Hello Fresh also sent more stuff than you needed – which defeated part of the reason I wanted a meal kit in the first place.  Like sending a can of tomato paste, when I only needed a tablespoon.  They pretend it’s a bonus, but the last thing I want at the end of a meal is a partial can of something.  Points to Blue Apron again.

Hello Fresh and Blue Apron also handle calorie counts differently and as you might guess, I liked Blue Apron’s methodology better.  Blue Apron packs a small pamphlet in their knick knack sack with the calories and all the nutritional information.  I never saw any meal with more than 800 calories and it was usually much lower, averaging in the mid-600’s to the mid-700’s.  Hello Fresh puts all the nutritional information for the whole week on one card – which includes all those meals I didn’t order.  It’s my job to keep up with the card all week and I saw a meal with 950 calories.  Points to Blue Apron.

There was one thing Hello Fresh did that I really liked.  Every week Blue Apron sends you a head of garlic.  Almost every recipe has the peeling and chopping of garlic in it.  We never used an entire head, so I was giving out garlic to whoever would take it.  In addition, peeling garlic is not one of my favorite things to do.  So surprise, points to Hello Fresh.

Dinner on the Table

Visually, I thought Blue Apron meals looked more inviting than Hello Fresh and my husband would probably agree, but as soon as he started eating, he’d turn up his nose at something.  Hello Fresh’s Parmesan Crusted Fish came with potatoes so everything was pretty much the same color, except for a sprinkling of carrots.  Same with the Pork Chop and Sweet Potatoes – monochromatic, except for a few green beans.  Hello Fresh’s finished product just didn’t have the sizzle of a Blue Apron plate, so you know who got the points.

But was Hello Fresh delicious?  With the small exception of tasteless sweet potatoes, hubby gave the week an unqualified thumbs up.  He was ready to go for the second week.  Anything except Blue Apron for him, I guess.

I wasn’t as happy and it had to do with the quality of the food.  The Parmesan Crusted Fish?  Tilapia!  Something I never saw with Blue Apron.  The potatoes sent with the fish were common white potatoes, not the fingerlings and Yukon Golds Blue Apron had gotten me to fall in love with.  To me, the Hello Fresh meals were OK, but pretty much what I could accomplish on my own, so kind of a yawn.  The good news, I guess is that even though my cooking is sort of boring, my husband likes it.

Will we continue with Hello Fresh?  Well, I was bored.  So I used a coupon Bill had found for Sun Basket.  Come back next week and see how that went.

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The Electrical Emergency

What do you think? Not bad for an old lady with an electrical emergency?

TRAVEL THERE: THAT MOMENT WHEN YOU HAVE TO PUNT

Bill’s taking a nap.  Our clothes are pressed and ready to wear.  It’s time to do my hair and make-up.  What could go wrong?

The Electrical Emergency

We’d discovered an AC/DC outlet in the bathroom as soon as we arrived.  We’d been recharging our phones since then without any trouble, so I assumed I wouldn’t have any difficulty with my hair appliances.

I’d had a hair appointment hours before I got on the plane and planned to put my own hair up into a French knot, using one of those long-fingered combs that makes it a relatively easy thing to do, even for me.  This particular comb had rhinestones and pearls on it, so I thought I was going to be pretty cute.  We all know that slightly dirty hair is easier to put up than when it’s freshly-washed, so I was all set.  The finishing touch was going to be wispy tendrils all around my face and neckline to soften the look.

While Bill took his nap, I plugged in my tendril curling iron, whipped my hair into the French knot and put on my make-up.  The tendril curling iron didn’t heat up.  I’ve had it for a hundred years and don’t make tendrils very often, so I laughed at myself, thinking I’d carried a broken curling iron all the way to Egypt.  Not to worry, I still had a regular barreled curling iron, electric curlers and a flat iron.  Surely something would work.  Nada!

I began to panic.  The women in the family had suggested several times that I take advantage of the hairdresser who was coming to the hotel to do their hair.  The bride had her own hairdresser, but everyone else was sharing another guy.  I’m funny about my hair and usually when a new person does my hair they freak me out.  I end up with a bouffant larger than something from the Sixties and want nothing more than to hide until it deflates.  Right then the bouffant sounded pretty good.  Sure I’d gotten my hair up into the French knot, but I needed tendrils.

Just about then, Mr. Bill woke up and, as calmly as I possibly could, I told him I needed his help with an electrical emergency.  First he performed all the plug-ins and plug-outs I’d already performed, but that was fine.  I hoped he’d hold his tongue just right and make everything better.  That didn’t happen, but we did locate another AC/DC plug next to the desk, so we tried again.  This time the tendril curling iron heated right up and I thought I was set.  Mr. Bill headed into the bathroom and I pulled out various wisps of hair to curl.

I picked up the curling iron and was about to curl my first tendril when I realized smoke was coming out of the barrel.  I ripped the plug out of the wall and tried the next curling iron.  It wasn’t behaving properly either.  I attempted a few curls, but I was scared the overly-hot implements were going to melt my hair.  That’s all I needed to ruin my day – melted hair for the wedding and every other event for the balance of the trip.

I tried wrapping the tendrils around my fingers and spraying them with hair spray.  Nope, Lori had done entirely too good of a job making my naturally curly hair straight.  I couldn’t get it to curl for the life of me.

Thankfully, I had not pulled too many tendrils out or I would have had to start all over.  It would have looked like my French knot had simply come untied.  My look was not complete, but I had about 15 minutes to slide into my waiting clothes and get downstairs for pictures.

As I put on my dress and accessories, I had a talk with myself.  This was Mariam’s day, not mine.  I was not going to let a little electrical emergency ruin it for me.  I thought I looked a little more severe than I had intended, but I’d just go with it and pretend I’d wanted this very sleek look.

On to the family photo session.

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My Ahhhhhh Day

TRAVEL THERE: TAKING IT EASY

After seeing off the guys, my first stop was the laundry.  I was wondering if they’d be able to press my dress and Bill’s suit for the wedding.  Nope, they were closed for the holiday.  That determined a lot of what I’d be doing for the day.

An Hour at the Spa

The spa was on the other side of the pool.  As soon as I exited the building, a nice lady wanted to help me out with my pool arrangements, but I didn’t want a towel, a chair or a cabana.  I was just passing through.

If you’re interested, the spa was quite nice.  I spent my hour on the treadmill,  I actually prefer a recumbent bike to a treadmill, but I wasn’t at home.  There was a nice variety of workout machines and stations, but no bikes, so I made do.  The gym area was neat, attractive and clean, not the cluttered mess of some hotel’s workout rooms and all the equipment worked!  They had bottled water, towels, magazines and other amenities to enjoy.  More than once an attendant checked on me to see I had everything I needed.  High points for the spa.

Those Semi-Wrinkled Clothes

In spite of folding tissue paper in with our wedding clothes, as my mother had taught me to do, when I pulled them out of the suitcase in the wee hours of Saturday night, they looked like a wadded mess.  Late Monday morning all Bill’s suit needed was a little touching up, but my dress was still pretty pathetic looking.  The bodice with all the beads were fine, but that full skirt looked pretty bad and the sheer lace over-blouse was still a mess.  Since attacking it with an iron almost ensured I’d melt some of the sheer chiffon in the skirt, I tried the old traveler’s trick – a steamy bathroom.

I hung the dress and blouse up over the toilet, glad for the commode’s lid, and took a very long hot shower with the shower door open and the bathroom door closed.  By the end of the shower I had a lake on the floor and the room was pretty steamy, but the gown needed more.

I toweled down and put on the fluffy terry robe provided by the hotel.  I made the water from the shower even hotter than I could tolerate on my skin, opened up the hot water tap on the sink all the way and escaped from the bathroom, trying to leave as much steam as I could behind.  I gave it about 15 minutes and then checked on the progress.  The room was all steam, but the dress was still a little wrinkly.  I turned off the water, gave my outfit a good shaking out and then left everything in the steamy bathroom.

As the wrinkles melted, I caught up with my travel journal, spent some time on social media, read a little, did some crossword puzzles and entertained myself with various distractions.  I’d opened the window to the perfect weather outside and was glad the hotel actually had operable windows.  I enjoyed hearing cocks crow throughout the nearby neighborhood and I’m pretty sure I heard a peacock.  Some kind of black birds cackles dominated the sound track for a while, but they moved on.  I’m sure there were traffic noises, but thankfully, faint enough to ignore.  From time to time I’d hear the crash of a metal tray or the sound of something heavy being dropped.  It was pleasant.

A return to the bathroom revealed the steam had all dissipated.  The dress was fine. The over-blouse still needed some help.  The room had a very nice full-sized ironing board with a heavily padded cover which I wished I had at home.  The full-sized iron had markings in both English and Arabic.  I was in business.

The blouse took no time at all, but the suit actually ended up giving me some challenges.  I wished I had put it in the steamy bathroom after all, but now it was too late to start all over.  Just about the time I got it and Bill’s white shirt professional laundry perfect, in walked the man himself.  He was earlier than I anticipated.  Khan-il-Kalilli had been a big disappointment, a dearth of dealers because of the holiday and far too dirty to be enchanting.  They’d found a cafe and enjoyed some down time, too.

Now Bill was ready for a nap and it was time to start on my hair and makeup.  Comeback next week and see what happened next.

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Wedding Morning Breakfast at the Fairmont

Quiche at Le Marche

TRAVEL THERE: WHAT I DID ON THE DAY OF THE WEDDING

Waking up in my hotel room, my first thought was, “This is it.  Bassem and Mariam’s wedding day.”  My next thought was a sense of gratefulness that I hadn’t allowed Bill to talk me into a tour on the day of the wedding.  I planned to relax all day.

Back to Le Marche Cafe

When we headed out of the room on our second morning at the Fairmont, there was no question about where we’d have breakfast.   We were going to Le Marche, as much for the delicious food as for our friend, Ahmed. We were momentarily disappointed when Ahmed was not there to greet us, but when we asked for him, the other guy faded into the background and a wide-smiling Ahmed appeared to welcome us back.

We sat down to peruse the menu and enjoyed several chance encounters with family, who passed to and fro in the lobby.  The groom scooted by on an errand, then along came the bride and her mother with a trail of attendants.  The attendants were in charge of the luggage and a rolling rack which was transporting the wedding gown.  Don’t worry the gown was completely covered, so there was no peeking.  Double kisses all around!

Next to arrive were nephew Steven and his friend John.  They decided to join us for breakfast and enjoy the attentions of Ahmed, the new friend of the family.  The meal was delightful.  I ordered a scone and got a second one on the house.  Steven ordered a chocolate croissant and got a Danish to boot.  Bill was delighted by his generous slice of quiche.  John, however, did not have such great fortune with his selection.

John’s Egyptian fantasy meal was a plate of fresh dates and figs.  He arrived a day or two before we did and asked for this delicacy at every opportunity and though he continued his quest throughout the whole trip, I don’t think he found it anywhere.  So much for Raiders of the Lost Ark.  Ahmed was so disappointed to admit he couldn’t provide the plate of dates and figs, but he suggested fruit instead.

John wanted to know how the fruit was presented.  “Is it on a platter or in a bowl?” John asked.  “Whatever you like,” Ahmed assured him.  “Is it a fruit salad?” John asked.  “No,” Ahmed replied, “it is a salad in a bowl.”  That being settled, John decided to see what would appear.

Ahmed roamed back and forth between the kitchen and the table.  Beverages were the first to appear and for awhile it seemed that was about all we were going to get.  Then the orders dribbled out.  First the pastries.  Then a while later, Bill got his quiche.  We were all just about done, when we started making noise about the missing fruit.  Ahmed was contrite in his protestations and assured us the fruit was almost there.

Ahmed, you were a treasure, but the fruit bowl, salad or whatever was a disappointment!  I’m sure any American could have driven to the nearest Kroger, bought some grapes, apples and oranges, returned home to chop them up into a bowl and then delivered them to the family, faster than Ahmed delivered up the same boring bowl from somewhere in the bowels of the Fairmont.  Not even a pineapple slice, no melons, nothing.  Just grocery store fruit!

Going Separate Ways

Bill was still having a difficult time believing I did not want to fill up every moment of the trip with tours and museums, but I was truly new and improved.  When Steven and John suggested he join them for a trip to the Khan-il-Kalili, I had my fingers crossed he’d join them, so I could have some alone time.

The crossed fingers worked.  The guys headed off on their adventure and I created my own spa day.  Come back next week and see how it went.

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