Your Basic London Shopping Rules

(Substitute name of other major city as applicable)

-        You will always find the perfect T-shirt/leggings/ODIC (Other Desirable item of Clothing) in the last shop you go into, after you’ve already bought the okay-but-not-quite-what-you-wanted one in the previous shop.

-        You will always find your favorite perfume/moisturizer/ODIS (Other Desirable Item of Skincare) for a better price after you’ve already bought it elsewhere for what seemed, but no longer seems, like a reasonable price.

-        However, if you refrain from buying that item of clothing or skincare, on the assumption that it’s bound to be cheaper at the airport Duty Free shop, the airport shop will surely be out of it. Better luck next time, honey.

-        If you buy that expensive glossy mag, you’ll be seated on the plane next to the most amusing and friendly traveler you’ve ever met, and time will simply fly. Need I spell out what happens if you don’t buy the mag and have mistakenly packed your book in with the checked-in luggage?...     

It's the little differences - Take 2

Take 1 was in May 2010 – see http://nina-makes-tracks.blogspot.com/2010/05/its-little-differences.html. But each time I go to the UK, other things catch my eye.

You don’t have to be told that English homes are different than, say, Israeli ones. It’s obvious. One thing that always strikes me is the doors. All rooms have doors, and these doors are actually put to use! On a regular basis! You go into the lounge and shut the door behind you. You move to the dining room, and – unless you’re in and out setting the table or bringing in food – you shut the door. In Israel, only bedrooms and bathrooms have doors. And possibly the door leading to the small porch you use for storage, where  you keep that old gizmo that you can’t quite bring yourself to throw out. I assume all this door-shutting is very logical – to keep the warmth from escaping. But it‘s part of a different life style. Also, many doors still have knobs rather than handles. I’m sure handles are easier to handle than round, slippery knobs. But there you have it. Tradition.

Bedroom door with knob. Ignore mess inside :-)

 Dryers

You’d think, with English weather being so predictably unpredictable though strongly leaning towards the wet side, that dryers would be a staple. But not so. Apparently, dryers are a relatively modern invention; more modern than the washing machine, to be sure. And it hasn’t quite been accepted as the norm. I bet more families have dryers in sun-drenched Israel and Nevada than in Britain. Here, you hang up the laundry outside, weather and blackbirds permitting (you know, like the maid in Sing a Song of Sixpence), or else you drape it over anything drapable like the laundry horse and the radiators.  Then there’s always the hand-held hair-dryer to finish of the job, if push comes to shove. Which it often does.

Laundry drying on the radiator

The Voyage Aboard the One Seven Four

So you think only an ocean-crossing trip qualifies as a voyage? You think a mere Rishon LeZion>Tel Aviv>Rishon LeZion bus-ride does not merit the name?

I beg to differ.

I reached my conclusions the hard way, i.e., cold and bitter experience. Cold, because the a/c on the bus is enough to make an Eskimo reach for his fur coat; and bitter because I forgot to replenish my emergency stock of fruit Mentos, for which I have no one to blame but myself, and the fact that I didn’t think a mere Rishon-TA bus ride required such meticulous preparation.

Women’s fashion this summer dictates large bags, the kind that can comfortably hold a basketball and still have room for the average female city-traipser’s paraphernalia. No, I’m not referring to the rare woman who leaves the house with a tiny clutch that can barely hold a single tissue, house-key, and credit card.

Luckily for me, I have this Lee Cooper shoulder bag that I fell in love with way back in 2008, that has lots of pockets.

On any given day, the bag inventory is as follows: Really Fat wallet (let’s not go there); make-up bag (ditto; the term “makeup” is used here very loosely);checkbook; business cards; Parker ball point, Pilot V5 Hi-Techpoint; mini Sharpie marker; mechanical pencil; assorted keys; tissues; lip balm; notebook/writing pad; Palm PDA (yes, I know they’re nearly obsolete, but it contains so much valuable data that I never look at!!!); diary/datebook (in case PDA lets me down); earphones for Palm; cellphone; mints/cough drops/chewing gum; various flyers and/or vouchers for coffee-and-croissant (possibly out of date); spare panties (old habit from my early twenties when I wasn’t sure where I’d end up spending the night; also accounts for the toothbrush in the makeup bag).

Now, consider all the extra stuff that went into said bag for the purpose of the arduous, demanding voyage aboard the One Seven Four, and the demanding 5 hour stay in an apartment at the Far End of Civilization, namely a central Tel Aviv boulevard, which you must admit is still the far end of civilization from some perspectives; or for a given value of Far, or End, or Civilization:

• Hat
• Scarf/gloves/long sleeved shirt (see Eskimo above)
• Spare T-shirt in case Baby Momo spits up or pees on me, which he has been known to do
• Apple, granola bar – in case my daughter’s [kitchen] cupboard is bare and it’s too darn hot to pop out to Tiv Taam or AM PM along Ibn Gvirol
• Laptop, wireless mouse, charger, computer glasses – in case Momo sleeps like a baby (ha!) and I can work, or blog, or email, or Chat, or…
• Bottle of water, in case we’re stranded at the bus stop (has been known to happen)
• Thingy I promised Daria (there’s always a thingy. Dr. Spock’s Baby & Child Care – yes, there was Help before The Baby Whisperer -- , that comfy tunic, a photo of Daria, 6 wks old, to compare to Momo; magic potion to put Baby to sleep)
• Camera (in case Momo does something really cute, which he invariably does and my cellphone camera sucks, and I’m the last of my generation to not switch to a smartphone, yet)

Total weight: 57.3 kg. Or thereabouts.

I’d better get out my ocean-crossing backpack and start transferring everything to it…

On the bright side, since the reform in public transportation in Gush Dan, a one-way ticket costs me only NIS 3.20 – just under one dollar. Can you beat that?

What Else to do in Dubrovnik

Say you've been as lucky as we were, and found a charming B&B including parking for your car, if applicable.
Say you're not one for lazing on the beach for hours.
What else is there to do?
Lots of things, I suppose. How we actually spent our time is a different question. I think half the time was spent walking around in search of the perfect little restaurant. The kind whose waiters don't nearly drag you in by the scruff of your neck; where there's neither too much sun nor too much shade; neither too empty nor too full; and where you can peruse the menu without the prices giving you a heart attack.

One just such place is the Konoba Koloseum, located on a relatively wide street in the Old City of Dubrovnik, at Uz Jezuite 6, to be precise. The photo was not taken by me; and the place, with tables and chairs set out, looked much more fetching. Sooner or later came the usual question from our bright-eyed waiter: "Where are you from?" The moment we said "Israel", Yerku, renamed Yair by earlier Israeli tourists, lit up and dazzled us with a selection of his flawless Hebrew: "Shalom haverim sheli, ma shlomchem? Tafrit bevakasha… haval al hazman…"

Turns out that Yair/Yerku is not the only charming waiter at the Koloseum…
The following day, we got back from our three-island-tour aboard the Rudolfo in the late afternoon / early evening, tired and a bit chilly, and had no intention of climbing back uphill to our B&B, only to change, go foraging for food, end up in the Old City, then climb all the way up again… So we thought we'd go back to the Koloseum. It was Sunday night, few tourists were out, the streets were relatively empty. The Koloseum had one table with a high-spirited group of Americans, plus a sprinkling of people at two or three other tables. As we approached, a tall, suave, Steven-Fry-look-alike greeted me in perfect English: "Sorry Madame, we're closed."
Taken aback, I just stood there, speechless, and would probably have turned around and walked away, had he not immediately grinned broadly and said, "Sorry, sorry, just kidding, please, please sit down, mi casa es su casa …" and on he went to amuse and entertain us, keeping us in stitches and plying us with food and wine for the rest of the evening. I suspect Maté (Matthew in English) is in fact a drama student or a stand-up comedian, supplementing his income and practicing his art on unsuspecting tourists like me. Shortly thereafter Yerko/Yair arrived, too, making us feel even more at home.

Having heard me say that I was cold (remember the wet, choppy journey back aboard the Rudolfo?), Maté nipped indoors (all tables are set outdoors, always…) and came back carrying an armful of soft blankets… which he proceeded to drape around everyone's shoulders.

During the meal, we got to talking with the jolly American party at the nearby table, exchanging the standard "where are you from"s and so on. At some point, a pretty girl from another table shyly came up to me, and said in an apologetic tone:
"Sorry for troubling you, but I couldn't help overhearing that you're from Israel… I know Israel is a small country, so I thought maybe, just maybe, you know someone…"
[Fat chance, I'm thinking to myself… Population only around 7 million…]
"Do you by any chance know Ruth Morris?..."
"Ruth Morris? The translator? Yes I do… we're both members of the ITA… I saw her last at the conference in Jerusalem… I follow her blog…"
Small world after all… I took a couple of pictures of Natasha, and sent them to Ruth together with Natasha's warmest regards and thanks for having encouraged her early in her career.

Here's Natasha with Matthew's blanket around her:

That was our last night in Dubrovnik. Since the lovely Fadila could not put us up, she arranged for us to stay with her friend Katrina Popov, nicknamed Ina, who lives a short walk away and has an approved room to let. Like Fadila, Ina too adopted us warmly, served us hot tea in the living room when we came in after dinner, and strong Turkish coffee in the morning before we left, bless her. See pics below:

Ina:

Ina's address, complete with official ministry-of-tourism stars;

The comfy, home-like bedroom:

Saying goodbye to Ina and her cheerful 94-year-old neighbor: