We started the day meeting the chef over coffee. We looked over the menu and talked about what dishes would be best to prepare. After some debate, we decided on the following:

• Banana flower salad
• Fresh spring rolls
• Banh xeo (Vietnamese pancakes)
• Grilled fish in banana leaf

Then the chef surprised us each with traditional Vietnamese hats to wear to the market. The first phase of the class was visiting the local market to identify and purchase the ingredients we needed. Our first stop, the veggie section, was filled with women donning their silk pajamas and traditional hats crammed behind their baskets overflowing with red chilies, fresh morning glory, garlic, aubergine, carrots, etc. There were tomatoes stacked neatly in piles, purple onions flowering the walkways, and bright green bean sprouts scattered between several different tables. The chef pointed out the vegetables specific to Vietnam and bought the ones we would be using in our food later that morning.

The fruit section was filled with the standards: apples, mangos, bananas, oranges and more, but one local fruit, the dragonfruit, always caught my eye (if only it taste as good as it looked).

Next, we snaked our way through the small aisles fighting the bustling local crowd to the fish. It was right along the river, but being out in the open didn’t help whisk away the hot, muggy, fishy smell. There were large fish and small fish, live fish and dead fish, there were fish that were being filleted and even fish being ground into fish cakes. We picked our cuttle fish quickly and kept moving (trying to dodge the fish guts on the ground with our sandals).

Finally to the meat market, where in addition to the standard cuts of raw meat (not refrigerated of course), we found live chickens in their cages, full size pigs waiting to be slaughtered, and numerous other animal parts including hooves, ears, intestines and brains. It had less of a smell than the fish market, but seeing the pigs squealing as they were being pulled from their pen by their hind legs didn’t make me feel any better. Finally, we stopped to pick up a few lovely smelling spices on our way out of the market.

We headed back to the restaurant where we were given our chef jackets and hats. We worked our way through the process of making each dish. First chopping and slicing the ingredients, then mixing the sauces, filleted the meat and finally preparing the dishes. To top it off, we were even taught a few tips on food presentation. By noon, we had successfully prepared 4 beautiful dishes each! And of course we saved the best part for last… sitting down and enjoy our freshly prepared Vietnamese meal!

If you’re interested in any of the recipes, feel free to email us at contact[at]withoutaguide[dot]com and we’d be more than happy to send them to you!

As I walked home, I wondered what a girls sleepover would consist of here in Syria with this conservative Muslim family? Would I need to wear a headscarf all night? Would I not be able to interact with Chris? Would I be required to eat with the women only? Would I unknowingly offend the family from my ignorance of Muslim sleepover etiquette? Where would I go to even find that detailed of information???

The next evening came quite quickly and when I arrived at their door they greeted me and ushered me in giving me tea and food. I was still a guest so I ate with Chris and the girl’s father, but normally, the men and women would eat separately. Once the girls saw I was finished, they signaled for me to come into the next room where all the women were gathered so that we could begin the festivities for the evening. They didn’t dare enter the room where the men were eating unless they were bringing us tea or coffee.

When I walked into the next room, they pointed to a corner where there were several floor cushions on a persian rug saying that this would be my bed for the night. I dropped my small overnight bag and sat down only to have Safa beg that I join her in the kitchen. Amira covered my eyes as I walked through their doorway and into the kitchen. Their mother was trailing close behind us. When Amira finally uncovered my eyes, Safa was standing in front of me holding a beautiful cake. “I made this especially for you” she said with a smile on her face that extended from one side of her headscarf to the other. By this time in the evening I was stuffed but she was so happy to serve it for me that I couldn’t resist acting excited to eat it. We brought the cake into the “sleeping room” and Safa served me a slice that could feed a small army. Their hospitality was so good in fact that Amira pulled out her beloved sweets and piled my plate with chocolate and candy bars after having unwrapped them all. Their mother then got in on the fun and poured two snack-sized bags of potato chips on my plate to ensure I wouldn’t go to sleep hungry. Ugh. Too. Much. Food.

I asked if they would be eating the cake with me but they said no, it was ALL for me. With grins on their faces, they sat there watching me take my first few bites. While I was eating, they began pulling their jewelry out showing me their favorite pieces. When they heard I had two sisters, they willing departed with two necklaces that they insisted I give to my sisters upon my return home. As the night grew later, we changed into our pajamas and the girls took off their head scarves. This was the first time that I had seen their long dark hair. It is common in their religion that all women wear headscarves covering their hair, ears and necks only to be exposed to other women and their husbands. After, we played dress up and I let them decorate me with their jewelry and headscarves. We laughed like we were 13 again!

Finally, we turned off the lights and talked from our places on the floor. There was a sudden stir in the next room and within seconds the girls both had already put on their headscarves. Their father walked through the dark room just as Amira had finished wrapping her scarf around her face. I was shocked at how strict it was, yet very impressed that they could put their scarves on so quickly. After their dad returned back through the room, the girls took their headscarves off again and we all began to giggle. It was a wonderful night! The last words the two Muslim girls spoke to me before I drifted to sleep where “Good night Amy. Hopefully you will dream about Syria because we dream of America. Welcome. We love you sister.”