I’m sitting in the garden at Beit Anissa, a house-turned-bar in Ramallah. The place isn’t open yet, but the owner let me sit and work outside. I found a table under a tree where I could plug. One of the guys brought me orange juice, an ashtray with two cigarettes, and a place of rice and chicken. I chatted with the owner for a long time about the “situation” and how life is different in New Orleans and Texas, where he grew up. He offered me some contacts for my fundraising campaign. Now the head of the kitchen is sitting with him, and he’s going over the menu with a new employee. It reminded me of when I worked in the food industry and I had to learn the menu. Now what we need in Ramallah is a good Indian/Thai fusion restaurant. Haha.
My feet are mad sunburned now.
My feet are mad sunburned now.
