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Red Sea ramblings

Electrical box, Eilat, Israel

It’s been a busy, busy week, with a full-on Jewish tour of Istanbul courtesy of the excellent Linda Naon; an uber-opulent night at the Hotel Les Ottomans followed by a somewhat more chilled out night at Sumahan on the Water, on the Asian side of the Bosphorus; a lovely meal Carne, the meat-intensive kosher restaurant in the middle of Istanbul; and a warm, relatively easy Yom Kippur in the always stunning Jerusalem. Other incidental highlights have been Aleppan-pastry making with Naava’s aunt Riza, wandering the traffic-free streets of Jerusalem (during the fast) and breaking the fast with plenty of food and family.

Corn on the cob, Sultanahmet, Istanbul, Turkey

Les Ottomans lobby, Istanbul, Turkey

Making cherry liquor on the windowsill, Istanbul Jewish Old Age Home, Galata, Istanbul

Kosher butcher Yusuf Nalbant, Galata, Istanbul

The little boat that took us to Sumahan on the Water, as seen from our room, Cengelkoy, Istanbul, Turkey

Now we’re in Eilat, four hours of desert backdrop from the centre of Israel, and almost totally removed from all political, military and social context. The tiny, wedge-tail of land between Jordan and the Egyptian Sinai is all about fun in the sun, whether you have rocks and sand or water and coral underfoot, with all the chintzy Surfers Paradise glitz and glamour, and none of the fine, soft, inviting beaches.
Since it’s Israel, if you want to avoid the bottle tops, broken glass, cigarette butts and the occasional nappy jellyfish, you have to part with some shekels and chill at a private beach. We spent an afternoon snorkelling and sunning ourselves at Coral Beach, where if you stay in the buoy-marked swimming pens (really) then you don’t get yelled at by the dude with the megaphone watching from the tower. If you’re drowning, by the way, he’s not getting wet, such is the notice on said tower.
Anyway, the water’s super tame and you’re not going to get into trouble, and we saw lots of brightly coloured fish. Nice.
Tomorrow we’re off across the border to Petra, a two-hour drive from Eilat, for a full-day tour. For all of you who know how debilitatingly anal we (Naava) are about planning our trips, this is, in fact, an incredible moment of spontenaiety!
And with that, we are off to search for falafel in town.

Coral beach jetty, Coral Beach, Eilat, Israel

From Israel to Jordan, Coral Beach, Eilat Israel

Watchtower for non-lifeguard yellers, Coral Beach, Eilat, Israel

Sunsmart Aussie chick in a sea of bronze Israelis, Coral Beach, Eilat, Israel

Staying awake in Istanbul

Wall early before people hit the streets, Istanbul, Turkey

Istanbul’s at a geographic crossroads, everyone knows that, but I didn’t expect to feel it so keenly, right from the moment you come to a sweaty halt at passport control. Parked in the non-Turkish citizens line, we hear arrival announcements wash over us: Beirut, Cairo, Tbilisi, Damascus, Bishkek; each followed some minutes later by a wave of additions to the clogged queue. We made it to the front as the Georgians made it to the back, but we were duly informed a visa was required, and ended up joining the Turkmen (and women) as they turned up. armloads of shopping bags packed with fresh produce; a pair of melons in netting among other things; all bright headscarves, patent crocodile leather jackets, and a strong need to push in front.

Eventually, we’re in a cab, with the meter on (having avoided the touts), speeding down the empty highway toward Sultanahmet, passing through a rough break in an ancient fortification, skirting the old city walls.

Only Day 1, so Naava’s not sick of the camera yet, Istanbul, Turkey

Unable to check-in until early afternoon, we find ourselves out on the cobbled thoroughfare of Divan Yolu giddy with exhaustion, walking into the Bosphorus sunrise, or at least attempting to make it to the shore.

We saw the water from across the highway, at the entrance to the old city, and decided to turn back in search of an increasingly urgent breakfast, which we eventually found at the stunning rooftop of a small hotel. Despite the directions given to us to a better eating area by a chirpy German-sounding dude emptying a kettle into the gutter, who seemed about the only person out and about before eight, apart from the first of an endless parade of street cleaners, and the stirring vagrants dotting the park benches, we had top-notch views and a distinctly Eastern European breakfast of bread, pale cheese, sliced cucumber and tomato, with the added surprise of olives and salty fetta, and tea, instant coffee and reconstituted orange juice to wash it down. All of this tasted rather fine with the 270-degree views over rooftops to the wandering watercraft of the Bosphorus, and the amiable company of a couple from western Canada, Barry and Judy (who was born in Kalgoorlie).

Very Old Baptism bath, Topkapi Palace, Istanbul, Turkey

Naava’s plan was to head straight to the Topkapi Palace and the Harem, both of which are in walking distance of or breakfast and which didn’t open until nine, an hour after our breakfast. As it happens though, it pays to turn up early to the palace, when the tourist mass is at its nadir. It’s peaceful, relaxing and soulful when we follow the audio guide through the grounds, with an easy splendour reminiscent of the Alhambra in Grenada, but altogether more laid back.

Before the palace, we make a crucial stop – Andrew’s first Turkish coffee, at the outdoor cafe in front of the Blue Mosque. Look, it’s not the greatest coffee, and the one I had later near our hotel in Sultanahmet was better, but as the first, it will always remain dear to my caffeine-dependent heart.

Meanwhile, back at the palace, an army of groundsweepers keeps the place tidy, lending a soft, scratching heartbeat, while ever-louder strains of French, German, Italian, English, American, Australian, Arabic and Turkish melt into and eventually overwhelm the still, humid morning air.

Tiles, Tiles, Tiles, Topkapi Palace, Istanbul, Turkey

There’s no point in giving you a grand overview of the palace, but for me the highlights were the reliquary, containing what are said to be Moses’s staff, David’s sword and Abraham’s cooking pot, among fragments of Mohammed’s beard, his seal, mantle and the swords of his friends, and the display of royal costume, in which delicate, invaluable silk kaftans survive gleaming, much as they would have hundreds of years ago.

Post-palace, the Harem is a gloriously decorated series of gates, corridors, chambers and courtyards largely devoid of furniture and exhibition pieces, though still well worth the visit.

Studious Naava, Topkapi Palace, Istanbul, Turkey

By this stage completely non-functioning, we stroll back up to Divan Yolu, and stuff ourselves with Turkish pizza and salad. I take a gamble with Ayran, the national dairy drink, a twisted ottoman equivalent to lassi, which tastes something like thin, salty, liquid white cheese. No doubt an acquired taste, and the last one I’ll order.

Sheep Cheese Pizza and Ayran, Istanbul, Turkey

And now, as I write this, we’re checked into the Faros Hotel with a studio room overlooking the street and an alley offshoot, listening to the madness outside, trying with all our might not to fall asleep before we head out to find the nearest secret synagogue for Friday night action.

Blue Mosque, Istanbul, Turkey

Hoiking it up in Hong Kong

Naava booking Israeli buses on Skype a the transit lounge, Hong Kong international airport, Hong Kong

You know you’re in China when there’s enthusiastic phlegm-hoicking in the adjacent and opposite urinals. And a small man in a cleanly pressed uniform who you see picking up lint from the floor as you enter.

Or maybe that’s not China, or Hong Kong, or anywhere in particular, just the diminutive green hallucination of a sleepless, never-ending transit through a major international hub. Whatever the case, it’s been a long, long time since we woke up in Elsternwick at 4:15am, and I’m entering the seriously fuzzy-headed stage of the catatonic, while Naava nods off over a Marie Claire in another armchair.

The flight from Melbourne to Hong Kong was alright — no worries — and it was mercifully empty; we had seats at the front of economy, with all that delicious leg room, and notwithstanding a famine of a break between breakfast and lunch, with all the brilliant canned programming on the entertainment system (The Apprentice, Fight Quest, Man vs Wild, 21 Up: Born in the USSR), we were well sated, happy even.

Then came the boarding pass fiasco, in which we failed to make it to our day room at the Novotel Citygate, not far from the airport (to sleep away the seven or so hours we thought we’d have), and ended up getting special dispensation to enter the departures floor, shower and hang in the lounge, before slipping past security (yes, there seemed no other way) in a staff-only elevator, down to the X-ray machines, to again attempt a boarding-pass retrieval.

We’re finally on the way to Istanbul. We have five nights in four different hotels; two of which are in the new city and two of which are in the old city. Post-Istanbul, we’re off to Israel, during which we’ll be spending time in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Jaffa, Eilat, Safed, and Ra’ananna, and I’ll be doing a three-day ride through the north, from Haifa to Tiberias, via Nazareth. It’s going to be a very solid three-and-a-half weeks!

The view from our balcony, Elsternwick, Victoria, Australia

Hoiking it up in Hong Kong

Naava booking Israeli buses on Skype a the transit lounge, Hong Kong international airport, Hong Kong

You know you’re in China when there’s enthusiastic phlegm-hoicking in the adjacent and opposite urinals. And a small man in a cleanly pressed uniform who you see picking up lint from the floor as you enter.

Or maybe that’s not China, or Hong Kong, or anywhere in particular, just the diminutive green hallucination of a sleepless, never-ending transit through a major international hub. Whatever the case, it’s been a long, long time since we woke up in Elsternwick at 4:15am, and I’m entering the seriously fuzzy-headed stage of the catatonic, while Naava nods off over a Marie Claire in another armchair.

The flight from Melbourne to Hong Kong was alright — no worries — and it was mercifully empty; we had seats at the front of economy, with all that delicious leg room, and notwithstanding a famine of a break between breakfast and lunch, with all the brilliant canned programming on the entertainment system (The Apprentice, Fight Quest, Man vs Wild, 21 Up: Born in the USSR), we were well sated, happy even.

Then came the boarding pass fiasco, in which we failed to make it to our day room at the Novotel Citygate, not far from the airport (to sleep away the seven or so hours we thought we’d have), and ended up getting special dispensation to enter the departures floor, shower and hang in the lounge, before slipping past security (yes, there seemed no other way) in a staff-only elevator, down to the X-ray machines, to again attempt a boarding-pass retrieval.

We’re finally on the way to Istanbul. We have five nights in four different hotels; two of which are in the new city and two of which are in the old city. Post-Istanbul, we’re off to Israel, during which we’ll be spending time in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Jaffa, Eilat, Safed, and Ra’ananna, and I’ll be doing a three-day ride through the north, from Haifa to Tiberias, via Nazareth. It’s going to be a very solid three-and-a-half weeks!

The view from our balcony, Elsternwick, Victoria, Australia

The Land of Milk and Shawarma (but not together)

Old City Sunset, Jerusalem, Israel

Al fresco, Jerusalem, Israel

Early last week I touched down from ten days in Jerusalem, with some hours in Tel Aviv. It was engaging, fattening and exhausting…

Traffic and golden stone, Jerusalem, Israel

The wall, Jerusalem, Israel

I ate a lot of fabulous food with the guidance of one very cluey local (hummus tour spanning the east and west of the city; the bakeries and delis of the ultra-orthodox Mea Sharim neighbourhood; interview with the editor of the country’s premier food mag), met a horde of excellent people at the ROI conference (and did so much networking I might lock myself in a cupboard for a couple of weeks), stayed with and caught up with friends and family in between (always a treat and a pleasure).

Landner Bakery, Mea Sharim, Jerusalem, Israel

Chocolate rugelach, Machane Yehuda market, Jerusalem, Israel

I also met an excellent Brazilian with whom I’m discussing some sort of global Jewish cultural event in Melbourne, and I’ve returned full of ideas for a magazine with global Jewish content. So it’s all good. There are plenty of pics to check out (there’s a highlights gallery here), so I’ll post a few more next time. Otherwise, it’s great to be back; I hit the ground sprinting, with a whole bunch of things, about which I will keep you updated. There are also a bunch more PDFed articles to go on my website, and to be linked here. Ciao for now.

Waiting doggie, Neve Tzedek, Tel Aviv, Israel

Cat silhouette, Jerusalem, Israel

Taking to water, air and Jerusalem

Tony’s hands, Bennett’s Lane, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

In five weeks, I’m off to Jerusalem! I’m going for the ROI120 conference, which brings together young Jewish creative types from around the universe (40 from Israel, 40 from North America, 40 from elsewhere: Europe, South America, the former USSR, South Africa, Australasia) to share brain cells and come up with initiatives for the good of their communities. My personal project is to establish a Jewish magazine and accompanying publishing house in Melbourne, among other things.

I’m also hoping to write some travel stories about J-town and/or Israel in general while I’m there. I’ll post what and for who when it’s all happily confirmed. May involve anything from hummus to Judaeo-Iraqi musicians.

This weekend I’m off to Benalla, a couple of hours north-west of Melbourne, to go gliding, and the following week I’m going sea kayaking to a seal colony near Apollo Bay on the Great Ocean Road.

In other news, I’ve written rather extensively about beer for a crash-course in the stuff for Camper Trailer Australia magazine; I’ve published a photo story comparing Melbourne to Osaka in Jetstar Magazine; a Kuala Lumpur hotspots page in Tiger Tales magazine; features about audiovisual entertainment and homeschooling in Caravan World magazine; and travel stories on Bendigo in Motorhome World. I will link to PDFs, where relevant, when I can.

I’m also working on extracting commissions for a fabulous mountain biking trip through Bhutan, which is leaving early July.

In the meantime, enjoy a few shots of night-time Melbourne. It’s Little Lonsdale Street, in the CBD.

Numbers, Little Lonsdale Street, Melbourne, Victoria

Car park, Little Lonsdale Street, Melbourne, Victoria

Disabled, Little Lonsdale Street, Melbourne, Victoria

Red streak, Little Lonsdale Street, Melbourne, Victoria

WOMADelaide and engineless planes

The Idan Raichel Project, WOMADelaide, Adelaide, South Australia, Australia

I’ve managed to leave a month between posts again, for no good reason. Anyway, here are a few shots from WOMADelaide, which blew me away at the beginning of March. I was photographing for the Australian Jewish News and Postcards.

If you click on the images you can check out photos of Taraf De Haidouks, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, Toumani Diabate and the Symmetric Orchestra, among others.

In other news, I put together a photo essay on Melbourne for Jetstar magazine a couple of weeks ago. It should be out in the May issue. And in the next month or so I’ll be touring the Mornington Peninsula’s best golf courses, traipsing through north-western Tasmania, and I’ll be going gliding in Benalla for Scoop Traveller.

On the Caravan World front, I’m going to get stuck into beers and homebrewing for a bubbly round-up of what’s what and how to make it, a theme I’ll be sticking to for a Postcards microbrewery feature in the coming weeks.

And Naava and I are confirmed and paid for an October-long trip to Israel with a five-day stop-off in Istanbul. We are very, very excited.

The Idan Raichel Project, WOMADelaide, Adelaide, South Australia, Australia

The Idan Raichel Project, WOMADelaide, Adelaide, South Australia, Australia

The Idan Raichel Project, WOMADelaide, Adelaide, South Australia, Australia

Thaipusam Photo Essay & Melbourne Armenians

Egyptophile tattoo, Mulgrave, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

On Sunday, Naava, Ronichka and I went off to eat sweet pastries and and learn about Melbourne’s Armenian community. What we learnt was that they make yummy sweet pastries, play an interesting blend of Turkish-Arab-Persian music and love a good barbecue.

I love Melbourne.

And in other news, I have a downloadable PDF of a photo essay of mine, published in this month’s The Expat magazine, which is based in Singapore. They’re all photos taken at the Thaipusam festival in Kuala Lumpur, about a month ago.

Download the PDF here, and enjoy!

Armenian baklava, Mulgrave, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Painter at work, Mulgrave, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Armenian meats, Mulgrave, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Armenian sweets, Mulgrave, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Armenian three-piece, Mulgrave, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

And here, for good measure, is a photo of my grandmother with some of her heavenly freshly baked tea cakes. Food for thought.

Jill’s tea cakes, South Caulfield, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Biking Buller

In the rearview, Goulburn Valley Highway, Victoria, Australia

Last week, my trans-Swiss Alps-riding friend Janushka and I had the opportunity to check out the first completed section of the planned 60km of cross-country mountain-bike trails. They’ll be progressively finished and opened over three years. Summer 2008 is going to be the official opening, after the snow and skiers of winter have compacted what is currently nearly as soft as beach sand into something hard and fast.

We started our trip in Benalla, at the excellent Benalla Regional Gallery, which has an expansive Sidney Nolan tapestry (made in Portugal), among other things, and a gallery director who’s well in touch with the public. We spent the night at the cosy Rotherlea Lodge, a self-contained luxury villa overlooking a grazing pasture, and then I drove to Buller while Janushka rode 115km right up to the mountain’s summit. As you do.

After a guided ride on the new trails we spent an afternoon and evening chillaxing and Jan drove to the spanking new Nagambie Lakes Leisure Park while I rode down the mountain. A forty-minute descent is more my style than his three-hour climb.

By the way, Janushka is training for a 2000km+ ride across the Swiss Alps in June/July, starting in Graz, Austria. He’s opted for off-road, and is fairly loony, but nonetheless inspiring.

And in other news, WOMADelaide is less than two weeks away!