I’ve made some bad choices in my life, but eating Russian airport food may be among the worst. The Fella and I had what turned out to be 13.5 hours to burn in the Moscow airport (I miscalculated my former estimate because of Daylight Savings). What do you do when you’re stuck in an enormous food court for 13 hours? You eat.
We started our adventure off with a tea latte and some blintzes, which I now know are called ‘pancakes’ in Runglish. They were pretty good. Things took a turn for the worst when The Fella wanted to try a sandwich shop. I pointed at the first thing on the menu. A hot dog, which I didn’t realize came in dill-mustard mashed potatoes and wrapped in a tortilla. It wasn’t good by any means.
It could have been the hotdog. Or it could have been the unnamable meal we were served on the plane, but by the time we got to our Tel Aviv abode, I was ready to rid myself of all of my internal organs.
I’ve had food poisoning before, but never like this. I’m not going to go into graphic detail, but I will tell you that I woke Roy up in the middle of the night to go to a drug store to get me some electrolytes-stat, but told him he wasn’t allowed to go into our bathroom, for fear he would divorce me.
The Fella’s first stop was the police department, where he asked for a ride (we hadn’t exchanged money yet, so he couldn’t take a cab), but he was turned down. He found a cabbie who would take him to the drugstore without the cash—so nice—and purchased all sorts of pills that I promptly threw up. I’ve been living on electrolyte tablets for most of the day, and was able to eat a whole grain pita toward the end of the day.
What’s most embarrassing is that the first time I met Roy’s friends, I had gotten some weird eye infection in my travels and had a fever and a pus-spewing eye. So, obviously when I met up with this time I vommed all over.
I have bad travel karma. His friends must think I’m the worst.
We were supposed to go to Roy’s former boss and mentor’s house for Shabbat dinner tonight followed by a nighttime tour of Jerusalem, but I sent him along without me—I needed the rest and didn’t want to ruin his night. Plus, without me, they’re all free to speak in Hebrew, which makes things a bit easier. Although, honestly, everyone here speaks English better than many native speakers I know.
The first day of our trip is a bust, but hopefully the next 10 days will be easy sailing. It would be such a shame if I don’t get to gorge on Israeli food while I’m here, they have the world’s best dairy and some amazing produce.
In between naps I’m watching Israeli cooking shows.