Hard work and dedication really does pay off, my loyal foodies and travellers. Whilst I haven’t posted on E&T in a while, it’s for a good reason. I’ve been off gallivanting down Australia’s East coast on a Contiki trip, one that I got sent on, courtesy of News Ltd and The Travel Corporation. You know what that means, right? My dream career is finally a reality. I am travelling and writing and having my voice read by thousands of people, inspiring them to explore and travel themselves.
For as long as I can remember, being a travel and food writer has been my career goal. But more than that, it’s my passion, one that I know I can live out for the rest of my life.
Below is part of the story that got me sent on the Contiki. Please read and enjoy and let me know what you think! Your thoughts really do mean a lot to me.
And, don’t fret, I will be back on the baking scene ASAP. I’m having some serious Sunday Sweets withdrawals.
SOMEONE tried to buy me in a marketplace in Israel.
“You, you there? How much for you?” the old man asked, with a playful yet deadly serious grin.
“Sorry?” I cocked my head in disbelief.
He clicked his tongue at me, unwavering from his work, weaving his rug, a vibrant, red and orange-hued colour, akin to Israel’s Negev (desert).
“How much for you? I buy for my son. He very handsome, needs a wife,” he continued to grin and weave.
I stifled a grin of my own. Was this Israeli culture? I didn’t think so.
“Not for sale,” I replied defiantly and continued my journey through the effervescent souk.
The sticky Israeli summer made my clothes cling to me like plastic wrap. Sweat from the nape of my neck trickled down my back.
Even my feet were sweating. This is an Israeli summer. This is what it feels like wandering around the Arab Souk in the Old City of Jerusalem.
I may feel as if I am suffering a terrible beating from the Israeli sun, but I know that I don’t bear the worst of it.
Walking beside me are women going about their daily chores, most likely sweating more than I am under their traditional abaya.
Though an Arab marketplace in Israel, to those unfamiliar of the Israeli dialect, you would not know.
Yet whether it’s an Arab souk or an Israeli souk, it didn’t matter.
Israeli and Arab market-goers all get along peacefully, and why shouldn’t they?
The Arab souk bursts with culture and vitality and there really is no greater assault of the senses than this inexplicably rousing market.