Celebrating a birthday away from home

When I was a kid, birthdays were a big deal.  I always had at least two parties (one with friends and one with family).  My parents took me out to dinner at the restaurant of my choosing and were very generous with gifts. It was fun to feel like the entire world revolved around me for just a day. 

My first birthday...celebrating with all my mom's friend's kids

As I grew up, my birthday gradually became less relevant. 

The first time I celebrated my birthday away from home was the year I studied in London during undergrad. I went out with friends from my dorm, but there was no need to mark my legal drinking age because I had been free to drink ever since I arrived in Europe nine months earlier.  Even though I was away from family during this time, it was still nice to have friends around. 

Little did I know, this marked the first of many years that I was unable to celebrate with family on my actual birthday. I usually went out with friends to mark the occasion (and to distract me from the reality of getting older). One year, I even took a trip to Florida with some of my best friends, but we all got so sunburnt that we barely made it through dinner on my actual birthday. 

2008 was the first time I had to travel for work on my birthday. I was alone throughout the work day, but I was lucky enough to be in the New York metro area where I met up with friends for dinner. As an added perk, my boss even allowed me to get a room at the Ritz-Carlton Central Park. 

The next year wasn't nearly as glamorous. I was working in Birmingham, Alabama and the view from my office window was this: 

Birthday shopping in Birmingham?

I remember spending an hour researching restaurants so I could at least treat myself to the perfect meal. After searching through menus, I decided on a trendy seafood restaurant called Ocean. Was the food great? Absolutely.  Was it depressing to eat dinner alone on my birthday? A little.  On the bright side, I had plans to go out with friends just a couple nights later (once I returned home to Washington, DC). 

2010 was the year of the MBA in Barcelona. It should have been an incredible place to ring in yet another year of my life. Unfortunately, a few conflicts during the semester caused classes to be rescheduled, and my birthday was the one and only time that we had a triple session of classes.  For nine hours, I sat behind my computer and listened to lectures.  By the end of this learning marathon, everyone quietly filtered out of the lecture hall and went straight home. Myself included.  

The following year, I had just moved to Chicago and I had about 2 friends. My friend Thom took me out for drinks and we closed out the night at a country-western bar. Even though I was technically "home", it didn't feel like home at all. 

2012 was a year of birthday redemption. I was traveling in Europe with a team from my office and my boss loves having an excuse to do nice things. My day actually started in Luxembourg, where I had been the night before for an awesome half-marathon. I spent the morning admiring the city and taking some photos, before catching a train to Paris. 

In Paris, I was fortunate enough to be staying at a super exclusive hotel and my first ride in the elevator was shared with someone who "seemed famous" (although I had no idea who he was). As we were heading out to dinner, the same guy was sitting in the lounge and I pointed him out to a colleague.  Turns out, the entire Vampire Diaries cast was staying at the hotel, and the guy I rode the elevator with earlier was Paul Wesley. Rubbing shoulders with celebrities was just the start of a fun evening. We enjoyed a dinner cruise along the Seine River and spent some time walking around the city. Strolling through Le Jardin des Tuileries reminded me that business trip birthdays can be fun, too.

Birthday evening in Paris, 2012

Over the course of the week in Paris, the hotel was filled with celebrities and the back of my head even had a youtube cameo at 1:02, when I entered the hotel with a colleague while fans were screaming over Ian Somerhalder. This was also the week of the French Open and I shared an elevator ride with the Federer family one morning on my way to breakfast.  Birthday week win! 

I expected 2013 to be a quiet birthday. I was alone in Casablanca and I arrived at the office just like any other day. A couple of the local managers suggested having lunch at the hotel's fine dining restaurant, which was a perfect coincidence for me. Then, out of nowhere, I heard the General Manager singing happy birthday and walking out with a cake and champagne! Somehow, the staff discovered that it was my birthday and I couldn't have been more surprised.

My Mom sent 8 birthday cards to my hotel in Casablanca

This year in Melbourne, I was working alone in my room and wondering whether anyone would discover it was my birthday. At lunch with some of the staff, we were discussing a new hire named "Kate" who joined several existing members of the sales team with the same name. This reminded the table that the majority of the Finance team was born during the month of October. Out of pure coincidence, they asked about my birthday and I admitted that it is today. They all offered an obligatory "Happy Birthday!", but it just wasn't feeling so happy to me since this was practically my only human interaction throughout the entire day. 

For dinner, I went down to the hotel restaurant and was told that it was closed for a private event. They offered room service as an alternative, but the only thing more pathetic than eating alone is eating alone in my room. I went back upstairs, grabbed a Kit Kat out of the minibar and rented a movie that ended up being a heartbreaking documentary. By 9pm, I was depleted of energy and opted to go to sleep early.

Fortunately, the next morning brought a fresh mind and renewed enthusiasm. I received several messages from friends who discovered it was my birthday via the Facebook reminder while I was asleep. I chatted with a friend in Hong Kong, received a call in my hotel from friends in New York and DC, and even received a birthday cake from the hotel.  

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One interesting thing about this blog is that the recollection of events sometimes helps to change my perception of them. I was initially going to write about how difficult it is to be away from home on your birthday.  But then I realized that I have enjoyed a few excellent birthdays on the road. I have also experienced some birthdays at home that have not lived up to my lofty expectations. 

A birthday is just another day except that it holds special meaning to one person.  The celebration should be about what makes that person happy. I love spending time with family and friends on my birthday, but I also love to explore the world.  Some years, those two desires are in conflict with each other. This was one of those years.  

Instead of complaining about one boring night, I will focus on the countless ways my life has been enriched as a result of my global travels. My lifestyle requires me to make a number of personal sacrifices, but it also affords me with opportunities that few people get to experience. This year, I just had to wait a little longer to eat my cake.  

Nightlife

Nightlife is such an important element of any city's identity.  In some places that I have visited, the atmosphere of the best restaurants and bars is a sharp contrast to daily life.  This new perspective really helps to give me a more well-rounded opinion of the city.  Unfortunately,  I don't always get the chance to go out much because I am usually traveling on my own.  So, whenever local staff members offer to take me somewhere, I always jump at the opportunity.  

Some of my best memories from this year involve nights out with the staff.  In Casablanca, I discovered a completely different side of the city when a couple people took me out for my last night.  Daily life in Casablanca felt chaotic and even dangerous, but the nightclub we visited felt like an upscale bar in South Beach.  I couldn't have been more pleasantly surprised. 

Mexico and South Africa, on the other hand, offered nightlife that was exactly what I would have imagined.  In Merida, the city center was filled with people (mostly families) - eating carnivalesque food, buying giant balloons for their kids, and enjoying simple food at local bars that had probably been family-owned for generations.  Johannesburg (particularly Rosebank) offered its "best" bars/restaurants in a shopping mall. The nightclub I visited (Maxi's) was filled with a very diverse crowd - smoking cigars and dancing to a live african band.  

I was excited when one of the girls in Amman asked what I was doing after work on Tuesday.  We started the evening by exploring the historic sites at night.  While we were walking around near the Roman Amphitheater, one of the security guards asked me where I was from.  Normally I say that I'm Canadian or Swiss to avoid any anti-American rhetoric, but I had to be honest since I was around two people who actually know my background.  

The guard started telling me a little about Amman's history and then took me to his friend's antique shop (of course) to see if anything appealed to me.  I looked around politely for a couple minutes without picking up a single item because I didn't want to show particular interest in anything!  I think it's funny that anywhere I go, people assume that Americans will buy whatever junk you show to them.   

Here we are, showing off our "guns" in downtown Amman!

We continued walking through the downtown area a bit more and passed lots of small shops selling mostly low-quality clothing, shoes, and bags.  I couldn't believe how busy the city was at 11pm on a random Tuesday night.  We eventually made it up to Rainbow Street (a popular area for outdoor bars and cafes) and sat at one of the outdoor tables of a restaurant for some fresh juice.   

Most people were just sitting quietly at the tables, flanked by hookah pipes (aka: hubbly bubbly) and talking to each other only occasionally.  The scene was laid-back and quiet...similar to what I have experienced in other Middle Eastern cities and completely different from bars in Europe or North America, where everyone is drunk and yelling just to hear each other.  

The waiter laid out plates of Arabic desserts on our table, which are sickly sweet, but so good.  My favorite is called Awamat, which is basically a tiny ball of deep fried dough...crunchy on the outside and filled with a doughy, syrup-filled center.  I literally kept saying: "ok, this is my last one."  So much for all my hours in the gym this week...

Here's what Awamat look like.  

The next morning, I was dragging a little because of insufficient sleep but happy that I had a chance to go out the night before.  As I was checking my e-mail and easing into the day, my main contact person peeked his head into my office and asked: "What are you doing tonight?"

I told him that I had no plans and he invited me to a home-cooked Iftar dinner at his home.  My entire mind was immediately filled with fear.  I hate being invited to dinner because it doesn't give me any element of food choice.  As an extremely picky eater, this is dangerous when I also have to balance not offending the host, who is rightfully proud of the food that they have made.  

There has been more than one occasion where I have had to create a totally awkward moment by honestly admitting that I can't eat the food that has been presented to me because it contained one of my "no way" ingredients (mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup, cream, and/or italian style tomato sauce).
  
I literally spent half the day thinking about the foods that I have seen at other Iftar buffets and calculating my chances of disaster.  Fortunately, I couldn't think of any main courses that would be off-limits.  My fingers were crossed. 

When I arrived, I felt a little awkward at first because I don't often eat dinner with families that I have never met - especially in their homes.  We just started talking about all sorts of random things and before I knew it, the food was about to be unveiled.  To my relief, everything on the table was edible: hummus and falafel, some sort of green bean and beef salad, and lamb shank with rice and almonds.  I could tell that the lamb was marinated in a yogurt, but I could tolerate that. 

They literally piled the food on my plate as if I hadn't eaten in weeks and I had to constantly say: "oh, that's more than enough!"  The wife had also made this rich sauce for the meat, which was a little too much to handle.  Unfortunately, she noticed when I put only a small amount on the meat and commented: "Oh, you don't like the sauce?  That's ok...I know it is probably not popular for people who aren't used to our food."   

I responded, "no, I love it!" and reluctantly added another spoonful.  I guess all mothers are the same when it comes to feeding people.  After all the excessive guilt eating, I was very full but also proud of myself for trying to eat all that was served to me.     

After dinner, we went out to the balcony for some tea and more conversation.  Even though I'm never a big fan of "homey" things, it really was nice to experience such an authentic family atmosphere during Ramadan.  I figured it was my decision when to call it quits, so I looked at my watch around 11pm and said that I should probably get back to the hotel.  

"Oh, we haven't had dessert yet!" (of course we were having dessert...)

Before I knew it, I could hear the bubbles of something deep frying in the kitchen.  A few minutes later, I was presented with katayef, which as basically pancakes that were soaked in syrup, stuffed with cheese or walnuts, deep fried, and covered in more syrup.  Clearly, another healthy way for me to end my day.  

Katayef - stuffed with either walnuts or cheese

I was asked which one I preferred and I had to admit that I was given two walnut ones, which were "very good".  Well, apparently this was unacceptable because I was forcefully given a THIRD piece to try the cheese version.  By this point, I just wanted to explode.  Yes, they were good, but I just cannot eat this much rich food in one day.  

In retrospect, the entire night was really a great experience.  I am appreciative, not only of the invitation, but also to the wife of my contact for cooking such an elaborate meal.  I tasted food that I never ate before (and may never eat again), and I learned more about family life in Amman during Ramadan. 

As I try to categorize nightlife in Amman, it definitely can be grouped with the other cities that were not so surprising to me.  I expected a very low-key nightlife and a family-centric culture.  Jordan is more liberal than other Middle Eastern cultures, but it is not to the extreme where people are getting drunk in traditional western bars and abandoning their religious traditions.  It's not a city where I could ever see myself living but it was a great place to spend two weeks. 

Casablanca, week 2

Celebrating a birthday alone is never very fun, but when you travel for a living, it is just part of the deal.  I thought about taking myself out to a nice dinner for the occasion, but then I remembered that my hotel has the best restaurants in the city.  So, I just woke up and went about my business like any other day. 

On my way to lunch, I was caught off-guard by the training manager, who wished me a happy birthday in passing.  Before I knew it, the group that I had been eating with the past week was ushering me into the fine dining restaurant.  To my surprise, the staff had somehow found out it was my birthday and they decided to celebrate with a champagne toast and a gourmet meal.    

Enjoying a fantastic birthday meal in Casablanca

After lunch, I couldn't stop thinking about the kind gesture on behalf of the team.  They really went out of their way to make it a fun day and I am so grateful for the memory. That afternoon, e-mails and Facebook messages continued to remind me of the many wonderful people in my life.  Even though I was unable to see any friends and family in person, I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my birthday in a foreign country. 

Wednesday night, I joined the hotel manager and his girlfriend for dinner at the traditional restaurant.  We each tried a different tagine, which is actually the name of the clay pot used to cook various meats and vegetables.  The restaurant also had a live band and a belly dancer that stopped awkwardly at each table.  I think the most fun part of the evening was observing the obvious effort that the hotel manager took to avoid looking at the belly dancer!  His girlfriend must be the jealous type…

For my final night in Morocco, I was invited out with two other people from the local team.  As soon as I hopped in the back of the car and noticed that we had a personal driver, I knew it would be a good night! 

Overlooking Place des Nations Unies as I wait for my ride

We started with dinner at a trendy, yet smoke-filled restaurant that served surprisingly good food.  I even managed to communicate with the waitress solely in French (without her responding in English), which I consider to be a personal achievement. After dinner, we moved to a great nightclub that was literally right next to the ocean.  The bar was in the center of an open-air patio and it was really cool to hear the waves crashing as we enjoyed our drinks.  I met some locals who were clearly part of the elite circles of Casablanca.  How do I know?  Simple answer: It was 2AM on a Thursday night and we were enjoying bottle service at a club that charges more for a drink than I paid for my two faux-Zara shirts the weekend prior!    

On my way back to the hotel that night, I thought about all the wonderful things I experienced over the past two weeks in Morocco.  From the dirty cafes along the street to the swanky club on the corniche, this country is all about extremes.  Some of my friends would be content with exploring only the higher end of the spectrum.  I prefer both ends.  It is fun to overlook the medina from my five-star hotel but it is also fun to actually walk through the streets, to bargain with the shop owners for knock-off merchandise, and even to chase pickpockets through the narrow alleys. 

To those who prefer to travel only to major gateway cities in the developed world, I have only one comment: You don’t know what you’re missing!

Street signs, old and new

Casablanca, week 1

I think it’s funny that whenever I mention I am in Casablanca, the first thing most people think about is the 1940’s movie.  I have never seen that movie, so my only frame of reference was the long-weekend trip I took to Marrakech during my MBA program. 

During that trip, Sean and I stayed in the medina, which is an absolute maze.  Honestly, I have never seen anything like it.  Small alleys twisting in every direction, none of which are marked, and all are filled with young people who want to confuse you even more by telling you that certain alleys are “closed”. (Here's a video of us exploring the maze...)

On our first day there, we tried finding Jemaa el-Fnaa (the main square) and it literally took the entire day.  I am normally really good at navigating my way through new places but I lost all sense of direction there.  When we finally found it, the sights and sounds were worth all the hassle…well, most of the hassle.  We tried snail soup, fresh-squeezed juices, bargained for $5 tee-shirts (which shrunk to half the size after one wash), and took pictures with monkeys climbing all over us.  I was actually really impressed with the relentless sales approach of the shop owners.  They could be selling absolute rubbish, but they still manage to confidently offer a price that is 10 times its value. 

Snails...Yum! 

Fresh squeezed orange juice!

Dinner time!

After a couple days of urban madness, we took a tour into the Atlas Mountains to expose ourselves to a less chaotic side of Morocco.  We still had to bargain with a mountain guide and firmly decline all offers for faux “handmade” crafts but the scenery was really beautiful.  

Hiking in the Atlas Mountains

My least favorite souvenir from that vacation was food poisoning, which made for an awful flight home.  I only blame myself, though, for thinking it was alright to order chicken when I saw multiple places that kept raw meat sitting under the hot sun with absolutely no refrigeration. 

Don't eat meat that looks like this!

Casablanca, I told myself, would be totally different than Marrakech.  For starters, I am staying at the nicest hotel in the city, which reduces my fear of unsanitary food.  I arrived in my room and immediately peered out the window as I always do at a new hotel.  The views of the old medina, with the Hassan II Mosque in the background, were stunning.  The first thing I noticed was the sheer number of satellite dishes on the rooftops.  This is a city full of TV enthusiasts! 

View from my room: Old Medina and Hassan II Mosque

I turned on my computer to check e-mail and change time zones, but something confused me.  The computer said Casablanca time was 3pm, but both my watch and the clock in my room said it was 4pm.  I went to the gym and the clocks on at least two machines agreed to my computer.  I needed a tiebreaker, so I called the front desk.  As it turns out, the time zone (as well as the work week) was changed to match France because of the strong business relationships between the two countries.  

My office for the two weeks in Morocco used to be an Italian restaurant.  I even got to work in a booth and I spent at least a few minutes of each day imagining how hilarious this restaurant must have been when it was open.  One of the fun parts of my job is that I never know where I will be working.  Sometimes, the office is a gem.  Other times, it’s less than comfortable. 

My office in Casablanca

I have to give major credit to local staff in Casablanca.  They integrated me seamlessly and never made me feel like I was an annoyance.  Every day, I had lunch with senior management, who nicely spoke English around me since my French is very rusty. The staff canteen was remarkably good and I love how Moroccan cuisine integrates cinnamon into so many dishes.  It adds such a unique dimension to the flavor palette and is something I will definitely try to use more when I start cooking for myself again. 

During the weekend, I spent quite a bit of time exploring the city.  The streets reminded me of other places in North Africa but some areas were much nicer than I would have expected.  I was also surprised by the high prices in brand-name shops, specifically Zara, which produces a lot of its clothes right here in Morocco.  I didn’t realize that their clothes actually have to be exported, then re-imported (and taxed).  Contrary to better judgment, I did what any local Moroccan would do…bought a “Zara” shirt on the street and paid $12 instead of $75! (I know, the sleeves will probably fall off next time I wear it).   

Before going back to the hotel, I decided to walk through the medina to compare it with Marrakech.  My first impression is that it looks exactly the same: Overwhelming volumes of merchandise, displayed at the front to lure you into the shops.  The items for sale included branded clothes, shoes, household goods, leather bags, and food.  The big difference is that the shop owners were much less pushy in Casablanca. 

There is a lot of stuff happening at this shop

Then came the exciting part:  A guy came up beside me and said that I had stepped on his foot.  When I apologized and looked down, I noticed that my credit cards were in his hand.  He immediately started running and, without thinking, I chased after him.  For about a quarter mile, we wove through the tiny alleys as the adrenaline pumped through my body.  I eventually caught up to him, grabbed the back of his shirt, and started yelling at him in French to give me my stuff back!  He dropped the credit cards on the ground and I released my grip on his shirt.  I grabbed my cards off the ground and jogged back to the main shopping area with my hands in both pockets. 

On my way back to the hotel, I realized how incredibly stupid I was to run after him.  I could have been killed and no one would have even noticed.  I just could not let a cowardly pickpocket run away with my stuff, knowing that I was probably fast enough to catch him.  The thought of danger just did not cross my mind at that moment.   

Sunday morning, I took a taxi out to the Hassan II Mosque for a tour of the immense structure.  I am really intrigued by Islamic architecture because the detail is just amazing.  Most mosques don’t allow non-Muslim visitors, so I like to take advantage of those that do.  The minaret at Hassan II is actually the tallest religious structure in the world at 210 meters (60-stories).  I was amazed at the facts relating to its construction, which cost 585 million Euro and was financed entirely by mandatory, police-enforced public donations.  The grandeur of the structure stands in stark contrast to the surrounding neighborhoods.  It really goes to show the power of the government and the role of religion in the lives of Moroccans. 

Hassan II Mosque: The main hall can fit 25,000 people

Here's the neighborhood that sits just across the street from the mosque

After seeing the mosque, I continued the religious theme of the day by stopping next at the Casablanca Cathedral.  It is actually quite beautiful from the outside, but I almost started laughing when I entered to find a makeshift art museum.  I don’t think any religious services are happening at this cathedral!

Looks like a cathedral from the outside...

The inside doesn't look like any cathedral I have seen before!

I noticed a series of tents set up adjacent to the cathedral so, of course, I had to see what was happening.  Lots of people were watching from the perimeter because the entrance was blocked off by security/police. Inside were just a few people in suits and Minnie Mouse and one of the seven dwarfs.  Wait, what?!? Yup, that’s right…Minnie Mouse and a dwarf were just hanging out with the businessmen. 

I still don't know why Minnie and a dwarf were at this event!

So far, this was shaping up to be one of the funniest trips I have taken in a long time...