It's not you, it's me.
Walking the streets of Al-Bireh at 7pm on July 25th was not the smartest idea I have ever had. I'm hungry, dehydrated and sad that I'm leaving soon, but this is the best way I can preserve my memories. It's startling quiet--not one car, person or empty potato chip bag in the street. The only thing you hear once in awhile is the scurrying of hurried feet in the kitchens trying to get Aftoor (breaking fast) ready. Banging dishes and muffled orders to bring this or that, too.
But why am I walking by myself like a crazy American Palestinian girl? One reason and one reason only. The smells wafting from each kitchen. House on the corner is obviously cooking Msakkhan (bread, chicken and sumac onions) because of the strong onion smell, bakery on the right is making Cross Sabanicc3 (spinach pies) and the next door neighbor is making Kabsa (spicy rice dish) because my eyes are slightly burning from the extra peppers she uses. I am working my amygdala overtime to keep these olfactory memories forever. Recently, I have noticed certain smells take me right back to a moment in Palestine and they are so specific that I even have the same emotional reaction that I was feeling at the time of the original memory. They are so strong that they cannot be ignored.
This is precisely why I am walking alone in the streets right before breaking fast. I'm collecting memories for later. It would be very nice of me to apologize to my 11 or so blog subscribers, but I wouldn't mean it at all. I took off 3 months to focus on Palestine, me and food. Now I'm back and ready to start all over again with a different perspective and a wider appreciation for food.
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| Breaking fast Day 1 (Bread, tea, dates, lentil soup, salad, stuffed cabbage, stuffed falafel, pickled eggplant, olives) |
