#TBT | Five Inches of New York Meat

Throwback to when I was 16 and still a big time carnivore. Excerpt from my mandatory report on the DHS American Exchange Programme experience.  



Certainly the largest sandwich I have ever eaten, or should I say conquered as yes, I really did eat all of it and yes, I am proud of myself. Despite almost puking and not being able to move for several hours afterwards, I think it was worth it.

It was our first night in the city, and literally everything I saw, ate and did was making me squeal with disbelief and excitement. I mean, everything was just so...so American. XXL and supersized.

This sandwich was the first sandwich I ate in NYC and by the time it arrived I was at the stage of hunger where your mouth starts watering constantly and your stomach begins to ache. I was basically starving to death whilst surrounded everywhere by the smells and sounds of people eating delicious, enormous sandwiches.

We'd gone to the Carnegie Deli, which I soon learnt Americans pronounce wrong. Guys, Andrew Carnegie came from the same town as me, I am right, don't even bother screwing up your face at me, I know we're in your country but I visited the house he grew up in when I was nine, so there.

The deli is a kitschy little place, every inch of available wall covered with framed photographs of celebrities and tables squidged together so closely it feels like one giant dinner party, which I personally found adorable but anyone who gets claustrophobic might not feel the same way.

Disclaimer: for the full dining experience, you probably shouldn't eat anything for approximately three days before your visit, and wear stretchy pants.


#TBT | The Night I Left Egypt, For Good

*This is an excerpt from my diary just before I left Egypt for the last time. The six months that I spent living in Dahab on the Red Sea coast, working in a tiny little hotel, was one of the happiest times of my grown up life. Much later, after several sad goodbyes, a few naps, one enormous packing session and a good old scrub up of my soon to be ex-bedroom, I left Alf Leila Boutique Hotel for good, in the middle of the night. Over 36 hours later (after near misses with wandering camels and actually missing a connecting flight, a whole accidental day spent exploring the streets of Istanbul on two hours sleep and eating so much Turkish delight that I could've puked) I was back in my hometown.