Lunch Time in Sana'a

And here's a story that I've been meaning to tell.  One of my strengths (weaknesses? lunacies?) as a foreign traveller is that I will eat just about anything.  This used to drive my friend Michelle crazy when we were travelling on Champlain business.  She had all of these strict rules on what could be eaten and when, and then would discovered to her horror that I had wandered off to grab something from a street vendor.  Many of my friends can regale you with stories of my eating adventures: donkey wine in Dunhuang - the tea with the local sheikh in the Moroccan village in the mountains (and which did make me sick as a dog) - the seventy cent meal at a restaurant in a Xi'an restaurant that was so dodgy that even the other experienced travelers wouldn't enter it - the Pakistani restaurant in Salalah - the fish bits in gelatinous goo in Moscow - the raw meat starter in Amman, etc.).  However, this also makes me very popular overseas, especially since Americans are notoriously wimpy eaters.  While in San'a I was determined to eat at a local restaurant in the old city.  While getting a short guided tour from my friend Steve, the Australian who rescued me from my locked hotel room, I came across this little restaurant on a square next to the silver merchant shops quarter.  Steve wished me well, but shyed away from eating there - and since he was a veteran Yemen visitor it only inspired me more. The chefs/owners welcomed me into their establishment, and although there were open tables downstairs, they led me to the upstairs dining room, which was a big of a challenge because the "stairs" were really more like a steep ladder.  For a while I was the only person there, and they seemed really happy to have me, despite the fact that I was shunted away upstairs.  I don't know whether they thought I would like it more upstairs away from the noise of the street or whether having a large American taking up a table downstairs would scare away business (or worse).  Oddly, I never actually ordered a meal, but did manage to let them know that I wanted a Coke, which did eventually show up.  After sitting around for fifteen minutes or so they brought lunch, which was some kabobs, a bag of warm fresh bread, and a tomato concoction to eat with the bread.  It looked a tad dicey, but was quite good.  About half way through lunch a group of Yemeni ladies clambered up the stairs: a matriarch, two women in their twenties (which I guessed were either older grandchildren or younger daughters) and two small girls.  The waiter immediately rushed to put up a curtain so they could have some privacy from the annoying American (who was hurrying to finish his lunch so that I didn't cause a scene).  However, as it turns out, privacy was the last thing they wanted.  Within a few minutes the little girls started peeking around the curtain, and then they were joined by the younger women - and then they pulled the curtain aside so that the matriarch could look at me - and talk to me, after a fashion.  She began to babble happily away, obviously to the fact that I didn't speak Arabic - or maybe she just didn't care.  She sent one of the young girls over to show me a school certificate and we were quickly one big happy family.  At a certain point the matriarch invited me to sit with them and have lunch.  I thanked her deeply and pantomimed that I had to run.  Truthfully, I wish I would have accepted her offer, but there are all sorts of societal/gender landmines there so I thought discretion was the better part of valor.  It was certainly a meal that I'll never forget.

The gentlemen who ran the shop and convinced me that their restaurant was the best in San'a, and who immediately ran me out of sight upstairs - probably just to preserve the reputation of their fine establishment.

The stairs leading to the upstairs room.  This perspective doesn't do justice to the fact that they served more as a ladder than actual stairs.

The upstairs dining room.  The party of Yemeni ladies would be seated on the far couch.

The view from the window out onto the soon to be busy square outside the restaurant.  It was still early afternoon on Friday so the city was just waking up. 

The condiments.

And my lunch.  At no point did I actually order - it just showed up.  I did manage to order a Coke, which was eventually delivered, although I think it involved a trip to the store on the part of the waiter.

The curtain that was hung to separate me from the party of Yemeni ladies - and which they moved out of the way so that we could chat.