In which Layla and Roz spend Christmas viewing Roman ruins and Boxing Day in the Dead Sea

By Layla

A short plane ride (punctuated by an excellent re-watching of the film Spy), an impressive whiz through customs, and hey presto: our European wintery holiday had been transformed into a Middle Eastern extravaganza. (Albeit the weather had not changed as much as we’d hoped...) Having checked in to the very pleasant Heritage House Hotel near the First Circle in Amman, we popped round the corner to Books@Cafe. Only hours after looking at the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin, we were ensconced in a charming, busy little bar/restaurant over an English-language bookshop tucking into our first dose of hummus. Afterwards we strolled around Rainbow Street, enjoying a rather pathetic but well-meant Christmas tree, and young boys in the square doing some crazy synchronised dance and being impressed at how nobody hassled us at all. An excellent first evening in Amman.

It was unfortunate to start Christmas Day with an alarm, but holidays, of course, are no time for relaxing. And we clearly had to wake especially early to exchange presents. I was delighted with my extravagant array of books from Roz (including a newly translated Haruki Murakami – my favourite author!) not to mention a selection of top Japanese animated films. In turn I gave her some cool jewellery, various silly nonsense, and best of all, a domino game about the geography of Europe. Well pleased, we had a quick breakfast and then hopped in a car (with driver) and headed north, destination: Jerash. Jerash is an old Roman provincial town and quite delightfully (a) it is impressively preserved, so we could imagine people going about their business in Roman times, (b) there were hardly any other visitors, and certainly hardly any non-Jordanians, and (c) the sun came out and it was delightfully warm. What an excellent, if off-beat, way to spend Christmas! We roamed all over the ruins, climbing into temples, and strolling along market streets, and sitting in the hippodrome, and the local theatre. Fabulous. From there it was off to Aljoun, a Muslim Castle whose purpose was to defend against the Crusaders. A cool castle, and we walked all over it, finishing in a brilliant view from the top.

Back in Amman, we headed to a fancy café, Wild Jordan, for a very late Christmas lunch of halloumi sandwiches and a few games of Europe Mapominoes. I won. Just saying… Afterwards we went for a stroll to find the art house cinema but since it wasn’t open, we had tea in a hipster coffeeshop (the area abounded with these, rather unexpectedly!). Then we stuck our head in at an art opening, before going back to our hotel to watch the first of my anime film Christmas gifts: Summer Wars. Quite mad, but most enjoyable. It finished just in time for our reservation at a fancy local Jordanian restaurant where we finished Christmas in fine style with a spread of delicious mezze and even a little Christmas décor.

The following morning we embarked on a walk through Amman’s downtown, and up a giant hill to visit the ruins of the Citadel, then down to the Roman Theatre, and finally we wheezed our way back up a thousand steps to our hotel. Amman is a really nice city but there is something unpleasantly San Francisco-ish about its many hills! We bid farewell to said hills in a taxi bound for much lower climes: the Dead Sea!

Strange how 45 minutes of driving can bring about such a change in weather. Suddenly, below sea level, we were warm and ready to float! The Dead Sea is one of the saltiest seas in the world. I sampled its floaty fun back in 1999, from the Israel side. I remember it being chaotic and a bit dirty and not as magical as I’d hoped. Turned out I’d just done it wrong. This time we checked into a fancy (but not especially expensive) hotel, and entered the water from their private beach. And what fun! Beautiful, serene, pearly vistas. Hilariously floaty water – not really possible to swim, but entirely possible to read the paper while floating. We applied the Dead Sea to make our skin extra-beautiful. And then took a little golf cart to bring us back up to the hotel when we had had our fill of floaty fun. We finished our water fun in an outdoor Jacuzzi, followed by a quick swim. What a fun day! That evening we read our books in the bar, had dinner at a disappointing Italian restaurant, and finished off watching 21 Jump Street at the hotel’s cinema. And feeling very positive indeed about the Dead Sea.

This morning we were up far too early because whenever you book anyone to take you anywhere, they always want to start early. We had a delicious breakfast from the hotel’s extravagant spread, then bitterly waited for a slightly late driver. He eventually turned up, accompanied by his small daughter, ready to drive us anywhere we wished.

Today’s plan was to go down Jordan’s famous King’s Highway, a road that winds past all sorts of interesting sights. Our first stop was Mount Nebo. This is allegedly the spot from which Moses first saw the Promised Land. Quite fun to be there, with the same view (albeit a tad obscured by mist). We also saw a church, and the first of what would become a theme of today: ancient mosaics.

If you’re in the market for ancient mosaics the place to go, of course, is the Christian town of Madaba. We took a walk around the town, visiting all the key mosaic sites. There was a little church with a full floor of mosaic tiles, the centrepiece of which was a woman representing the sea, surrounded by imaginary sea creatures. There was a vibrant floor mosaic depicting a topless Aphrodite spanking Eros, and some rather good ancient wall mosaics of townhouses. And of course, the most famous mosaic, housed in a Greek Orthodox Church: the first known map of Palestine. We also enjoyed the nearby café… and then headed to Wadi Mujib, Jordan’s answer to the Grand Canyon, for some fabulous views.

Soon we were off again, this time to Kerak to see the finest example of a Crusader castle in the desert. After a quick but tasty lunch in a local place where our driver seemed to have friends, we headed up to the massive castle. And proceeded to get fairly lost in its labyrinthine corridors. Still not sure whether we saw any of the main sights of the castle, but we walked around it for an hour, climbed the turrets and had lots of fun. And then, after some more amazing views of otherworldly desert cliffs and rolling landscapes, we arrived at this evening’s destination: Dana!

When we told our Jerash driver we were doing to Dana Nature Reserve, he laughed at us. “But it’s one of the best nature places in Jordan!” we told him. “But it’s cold,” he responded. Our driver was not lying. Having had a pleasant, if chilly dinner, we are currently huddled by an old gas heater in an otherwise unheated and flimsy hostel pseudo living room. The hotel workers are wearing ankle-length sheepskin cloaks. Roz and I are wearing seven layers of clothing including four jumper layers, listening to the wind literally whistling and hoping that our planned 6 hour hike in Dana Nature Reserve tomorrow is worth it all! 

In which Roz and Layla go in search of Christmas in Berlin (and find art, cheesecake and Syrian refugees)

By Roz

We touched down in Berlin late, neither of us sure what to expect – both of us have been to Berlin before, separately, and neither of us had loved it. But everyone we speak to seems enchanted by Berlin and we were ready to follow suit – and particularly ready to succumb to the Christmas vibe of the city.  Throwing caution to the wind (a tiny bit) we hopped into a taxi from the airport to try and make up for some of the time we’d lost through our plane being late.  Relatively swiftly we were in our tiny AirBnB flat on the outskirts of an area called Kreuzberg – a locale about which we’d read vehement descriptions as hip (though their very vehemence rather reminded me about how I used to describe the area of London I lived in before – Camberwell – which was more aspirationally hip than absolutely hip…).

Having dumped our stuff in our new home, we hesitated over the right plan for the night, feeling a bit intimidated by the depressing vibe of our street… and then decided to leap on a train and head straight into the centre of the city to visit a Christmas market and drink Gluwein (which is rather like mulled wine if you haven’t had it – if you have, please forgive what I’m sure is heresy).  It was very cheery meandering around the festive stalls, watching a little ice skating and listening to Christmas music.  We then headed back in the direction of Kreuzberg to have Italian food in a cool place called the Gorgonzola Club.  (The irony of coming straight from Venice to have Italian food in Germany does not escape me.  However, German food isn’t absolutely vegetarian-friendly…)  Candles twinkled and hipsters abounded: phew! We then wandered home via a cocktail bar in a basement where they served terrific concoctions (if so strong that I am ashamed to say that Layla had to conveniently spill some of hers to avoid the shame of leaving a drink that the bartender was clearly very proud of). 

Next morning, we were up relatively bright and early for a free walking tour of Berlin.  Our tour guide did a nice job of taking us through German history in an interesting way (starting in the 12^th century!)  and showing us the standard tourist sites from the Brandenburg Gate to the Holocaust Memorial to the spot of Hitler’s bunker and Checkpoint Charlie.  Not exactly cheery but it was an interesting and efficient way to see them.  We were more than ready for lunch at the end of the tour and were delighted to find a mainly vegetarian but otherwise wholly chic place nearby.  As I debated salad sizes with the waitress (ah, some traits from America will never leave me I suspect!), I unfortunately came up with the peculiar question “which do most middle-aged ladies order?”.  Ah, I have never embraced middle age or going with the norm before, and yet I managed to do both in one sentence. Layla cried with laughter. (The waitress later asked me whether the size had been right and I have a vision of her giving future customers kindly advice “well, I understand the medium salad is about right for most middle aged ladies…”) 

Our plan for the afternoon was to explore a couple of different northern areas of the city by foot.  Unfortunately, Berlin turns out to be the opposite of Venice – there you look at the map and think the destination must be far, far away, and then find you get there in a couple of minutes, whilst in Berlin places look close and then you find the opposite is true.  Nonetheless, we had fun walking up in the direction of the Jewish area (including past the British Embassy which I waved hello to) and to the Hamburger Bahnhofstrasse Museum, which is a modern art museum housed in a former railway station.  We fortified ourselves with coffee and cake first in a cool little museum cafe, and then enjoyed meandering round the first part of the museum, which had mainly Warhols and Lichtensteins.  We mused that the museum had turned out to be smaller than we had expected as we left these galleries – and then found that we’d only touched the surface of the museum and found lots of experimental works in what looked like old railway sidings.  We had fun walking through the endless galleries and playing on video games (something I always find both fun and surprisingly hard since it wasn’t part of my childhood), which were inexplicably one of the exhibits. 

We continued on with our walking route (though by this time my legs were pointing out that this wasn’t absolutely what they were accustomed to in London) and eventually ended up in a posh and apparently tourist-filled area which turned out to have very cool linked brick buildings full of galleries and shops and even a cinema, but though they were open, the whole area was somewhat disconcertingly deserted and grim.  We meandered through, picking up some fortifying chocolate for Layla, and then scrapped any plans to linger and headed back into the centre of Berlin. 

Our plan for the evening was dinner and then Star Wars.  Layla is not at all a Star Wars fan, and I’m only moderately enthusiastic (by which I mean I’ve seen the first film numerous times, the second and third once and the newer films not at all).  But this film has had such glowing reviews and there’s been much chat about it having the first properly feminist lead, that I wanted to jump on the bandwagon.  There was an awesome-sounding old East Berlin cinema, Kino International, which had it on at the right time, and I was foolishly confident that we’d find somewhere nice to eat close by. It took so long to walk there that our legs were wailing and our teeth were chattering by the time the cinema finally came into view. Then we found there was absolutely nowhere to eat, nice or otherwise, in the vicinity (but we walked another mile just to make sure).  We ended up in a flap and then in the unfortunate position of pretty much missing out on dinner (bar some random snacks).  On the plus side, however, the cinema was beautiful – the inside was a little like the Royal Festival Hall in London (despite having been built 15 years later) and there was delicious Reisling to sustain us too.  We both thought the film was excellent and the cheery vibe of being there with a lot of very excited people more or less made up for the lack of dinner (especially the guy behind us brandishing his own light sabre…). 

We woke up the next morning feeling rather hungry (even hungrier than usual, I mean).  This was the perfect justification for us to walk in the direction of one of Kreuzberg’s cool cafes, Five Elephant (said to have the best coffee and the best cheesecakes in Berlin) along the lovely Landwehrkanal (you might be able to guess that this is a canal).  Despite the time of year (or do I mean because of it?) it was a lovely walk with a blue sky and austere looking trees lining the canal and various locals walking their dogs.  The café lived up to its reputation and their banana bread was also excellent, so we enjoyed our stop there, including spending much time trying to lure a small dog, also in the café, to be friendly.  Whilst there, we concocted the slightly odd plan of walking to a nearby, somewhat dodgy park to play indoor mini-golf.  We were frustrated in this plan by the fact that the mini-golf was closed for the winter (Berliners have inadequate devotion to mini-golf it seems), so we summoned our remaining walking muscles and continued across the river, past some cool buildings, and on to the East Side Gallery – an outdoor display of murals painted by artists along a remaining piece of the Berlin Wall to capture their thoughts about it coming down. Interesting stuff.

I was fearful that we’d end up in another scenario where we walked so far that my legs wanted to fall off.  And so when Layla, after some urgent research to find ideas for somewhere to pass a delightful afternoon, announced that our next destination (and lunch) was a mere hour’s walk away, I determinedly steered us onto a bus.  Stepping off the bus in posh west Kreutzberg, I feared the plan might have been flawed when first the place we’d had in mind for lunch proved to be closed for Christmas and the streets seemed deserted. Happily we’d just walked down a disappointing street. Which made it all the more glorious when we turned the corner and unexpectedly found ourselves in a delightful indoor food market, reminiscent of Union Market (Washingtonians) or Borough Market (Londoners).  We had a delicious lunch of quiche and salad and such like and then meandered around, stopping for coffee and Turkish tea. 

From here we headed to Templehof park.  This is a defunct airport, used during the Berlin blockade, which has now been turned into a park. For a change, this destination was close by, and my legs rejoiced.  It’s not hard to find an airport entrance and so once spotted, we headed towards it confidently.  We were soon stopped by some bemused looking police and after a while realised that the former airport terminal building is now being used to process Syrian refugees and that this was what we were trying to barge our way into.  Oops.  We eventually found the airport-turned-park entrance.  Unsurprisingly, tons of Syrian refugees were kicking around the area, including hanging out in the park and after it dawned on me that they’d take us for German locals I felt it incumbent on me to smile enthusiastically at each one in an encouraging and welcoming fashion.  I fear the end result was more maniacal than would have been optimal.  But I meant well.  As we meandered round the airfield, watched people flying kites and pretended to be planes on the runway (did I really just confess this?), we mused on how handy it would be for the authorities to have such a large building in the centre of the city (it’s the civil servant in me) but we also mused that it seemed most odd that such a big building had remained basically empty and unused for such a long time. Is it wrong to think: that would make amazing flats!

Afterwards we wandered back to the food market for some gluwein before hopping on a metro to go bowling.  This proved a very cheery experience, and I say that even though Layla won both games.  But it felt like our bowling balls had some magic about them, since neither of us have played so well – with numerous strikes – in years (for which read ever).  From bowling it was a surprisingly short walk home when we had a quick rest before dinner at a really excellent Italian place (I know, again not German) for some delicious small plates.  They played pretty much every Christmas song I know (cheery) and we entertained ourselves by musing on New Year resolutions and eavesdropping on a nearby table where a German boy was introducing his non-German-speaking English girlfriend to his not-enthusiastic-about-speaking-English family. 

Our plane to Jordan was early afternoon the next day, so our morning was composed of quickly packing and then a lovely walk round Tiergarten (Berlin’s answer to Central Park the philistine would say).  It’s a beautiful and interesting park, with a only a few locals and seemingly no tourists.  It felt a cheery way to spend the morning of Christmas Eve and we skipped with joy at the thought of a whole 10 more days of holiday. I felt a bit sheepish at not feeling sorrier at leaving Berlin… I had expected to fall in love with its quirky, hipster, arty vibe, but while I enjoyed the art museum and the cool cinema and the lovely parks, somehow it all felt a bit flat and utilitarian and uncharming, and somehow so ensnared in its dreadful history that it seems to be struggling to write new chapters, as though doing so would unacceptably distract from the horrors. We were left seeking the city’s 21^st century personality in vain. It didn’t even feel all that festive, despite a hundred Christmas markets. But with everyone else raving about Berlin, we must be doing it wrong, somehow. Maybe it’s a city you need to spend more time in if it’s to grow on you… or maybe Layla and I are just Philistines… at any rate we’ll be there for a final day at the end of the holiday, so we’ll give it one more chance… But for now, goodbye Berlin and hello Amman!

In which Layla and Roz explore the canals and alleys and pastry shops of wintery Venice

by Layla

Who would have ever guessed that being a language student would rob Roz and me of our fabulously frequent holidays in a way that even our most intense jobs have never managed? Poor Roz has been in class every day for seventeen weeks with only one paltry weekend in Rome during that time to give her a taste of what might be, while I've done thirteen weeks. But at last: my class has a 2-week break over Christmas and the moment the clock struck 1pm on my last day, we were both en route to the airport like addicts with our addictive substance in sight. In our case a glorious two-week holiday to Venice, Berlin and Jordan.

An odd combination? Well the flights from Berlin to Amman were cheap. And the Europe flights were the price of a glass of wine or two. And I'd never seen Venice - and given our imminent move, I knew it was either now or wait at least 5 years!

Apparently in summer you can hardly walk for the crowds in Venice. Everything is expensive and stressful. Not so in December. We came in from the airport on a waterbus and as I stepped out onto the misty pier, gondolas bobbing and ornate churches illuminated around me, I realised that everything I knew about Venice came almost exclusively from the books Miss Garnett's Angel and What Katy Did Next. For instance, I had no idea there are genuinely no roads for cars in Venice! 

As we stood in the dark mist, our AirBnB host not appearing, I began to feel a little anxious. But then we splashed out on a phonecall and found there had been a miscommunication. Five minutes later someone had rescued us and was leading us through gloriously atmospheric cobblestoned lanes to our very own Venetian apartment. And having dumped our luggage in what was potentially our nicest-ever AirBnB abode, we ventured forth into the night. First stop: prosecco and fabulous pizza and a toast to this long-awaited holiday. Second stop: a walk over our first of ten million little Venetian bridges over canals to reach St Mark's Square, only 5 minutes away. This is the huge central square of Venice, and it was a delight to walk through it at night, admiring the amazing church that flanks it, the huge Christmas tree, and the brilliant architecture. We strolled home, shivering just a little, and feeling quite delighted with the first stop in our Christmas holiday extravaganza.

The next day we breakfasted at a cute local bar and got properly acquainted with Venetian pastry skills. Delicious. Then we thanked goodness for Google maps as we made our way to the starting point of our Free Walking Tour, just a 20 minute walk from our flat, but across about 20 bridges, through 10 charming squares, and with about 75 twists and turns through narrow cobbled alleyways featuring cute little shops and restaurants and other such sights that felt like they had surely fallen out of a book about a fairytale place. 

Our tour was fun: it gave us a real feel for how Venice had grown on these tiny islands in a lagoon, how each one was its own neighbourhood even though they were only metres apart, and the unique way of life of Venetians today. We wove past churches (popped into one with a painting on the largest roof canvas in the world), stopped for a spritz (alcoholic drink that most Venetians seem to drink most days in cute little bars on their way home from work - a key social tradition in the city), and heard about high tide, when the waters rise so much that the streets are routinely flooded and everyone goes around in wellies. Afterwards we wandered in desperate search of lunch, found somewhere with sandwiches, got a bit lost and eventually found our afternoon target: Fortuny Palace. This art gallery had the double benefits of being (1) housed in an old Venetian palace (just like the one I was currently reading about in The Haunted Hotel by Wilkie Collins), and (2) having new exhibitions opening that very day, notably one by lesbian artist Romaine Brooks (plus another intriguing exhibition of the works of Ida Barbarigo). We had a hilarious and delightful time exploring the nooks and crannies of this huge, dark, quirky building and its cool art, before we extracted ourselves reluctantly and put the coordinates of one of Venice's top chocolate shops into Google maps. We spent the rest of the afternoon winding our way through yet more charming, complicated cobblestone mazes until, hooray, there it was! I indulged accordingly... We popped home, then out to a vegetarian restaurant that we had read about, a significant trek across the Rialto bridge and copious other little bridges and corners and alleys until our great triumph at finding the restaurant was staunched by the sad fact that they were fully booked. Huffily we retraced our steps and then veered off in another direction to find Roz's plan B restaurant, a very quaint, typical Venetian place that whipped up butternut squash lasagne for us, and a cheese plate, and was entirely delightful until I had some weird allergic reaction to, probably, cheese (the horror! I refuse to be developing an allergy to cheese!), and we had to flee homewards for antihistamines... duly dosed, we went out again to stroll in St Mark's square, eerily/atmospherically cloaked in mist this evening, before bed. 

The next day we had concocted a scheme to visit one of the further-away Venetian islands, thus enjoying a boat ride and getting to see a little village. Our choice was the lace-making island of Burano (because Roz had visited the closer island of Murano, where they make glass, when she was 11, and the boat didn't stop at the more obscure Torcello in winter). The morning was hilariously misty, so we found ourselves cruising through water that was entirely cloaked in mist - all we could see was the pearly surface of the water next to the boat and an occasional duck. Entirely surreal. Burano, also deeply shrouded in mist, was charming: lots of tiny houses painted in every colour, lots of lace shops, and a hot chocolate for me. Much needed: it was chilly! On our return we walked north and grabbed some tapas-y lunch and prosecco at a delightful little canalside bar before heading to an obscure dock for our extravagance of the holiday: a rowing lesson! We met a cheery Texan girl and she took us on board what looked like a gondola but was technically something slightly more stable, and before long, we were rowing our way through the canals of Venice, waving to passers by and executing slightly expert turns (well, Roz was...) while not even shrieking as we balanced on the top of the boat while doing so (well, Roz didn't...). The sky turned unexpectedly blue, and we had an entirely delightful time, smugly wondering why anyone would take a gondola ride when they could propel their own sort-of-gondola instead! 

After our lesson, feeling very proud of ourselves, we walked to the Jewish ghetto (apparently the first Jewish ghetto - the word comes from the Italian word for a foundry that was previously on that island) and soon found ourselves in the much-needed warmth of a fantastic pastry shop. We demolished several while reading our books and musing on how we felt totally exhausted. 

Finally sated, we stepped out of the shop, planning to head to a boat stop on the Grand Canal and do the requisite touristy cruise down the Grand Canal. While we ate cake, the weather had changed from a chilly, sunny day to the mistiest day in the world. Undeterred, we got on the boat. Turned out it was heading not down the Grand Canal, but to the lagoon and various unscenic locations. Off the boat, onto another one, thanking goodness for our 24-hour pass, and soon we were indeed cruising down the beauty of the Grand Canal. Well, what we could see of it beyond the mist. We chose to find it charmingly atmospheric. And huddled together for warmth... and decided to ditch our plan of getting a boat to an island with a bell tower from which we could see all of Venice, since in fact we could only see about 2 metres in front of us! 

We warmed up at home with tea and the giant box of Quality Street chocolates that were technically part of my Christmas present from Roz... then went out to a nice bar for pre-dinner drinks, and onwards for a final evening's delicious pizza. And of course Roz made me do a final evening's stroll around St Mark's square, undeterred by my chattering teeth and chilly wails. It was mistier than ever, and very lovely.

On our final day we eked out the last value from our 24 hour ferry passes by hopping over the water first to a cafe, and then to the Peggy Guggenheim Museum. A really attractive building with some great modern art, though my greatest amusements came from looking out to the Grand Canal from its windows, and laughing vigorously as Roz whacked her forehead off the glass while doing so. After our fill of Picasso and Warhol and the like, we did one final expedition, this time weaving and winding our way to one of the top pastry shops in Venice. Where I indulged appropriately. We dashed back to our flat, grabbed our bags, dragged them through various cobbled mazes, and over various giant bridges, and eventually we were on the boat to the airport. I have never taken a more surreal conveyance out of a city. It was so misty it felt that we were in some strange post-apocalyptic world, bobbing along in the pearly obscurity. It felt quite surprising when, after a significant walk at the other side, we entered a perfectly normal airport. Back to reality. Next stop: Berlin!