Los Tigres del Norte call it home: San José

If you need to be near the airport, this place is absolutely perfect. Over the course of the last few years in our travels, we have stayed in places like this one, whether it was Extended Stay, Candlewood Suites, or the Marriott Suites, and they have proven to be almost like home, except you’ll miss out on the room service.

Minor drawbacks, such as having to carry your own luggage and making trips to an ice machine that is on a different floor, can be mildly annoying, but they make up for it by serving you a complimentary breakfast every morning, and if you’re lucky enough to arrive or stay through a Wednesday, you can partake in the social hour. They have a fitness room if you need to loosen your muscles, and if you’re without a car, their shuttle will deposit you at the airport straight to your designated airline.

As you can see from the pictures, the decor is simple and clean. They skimp terribly on the pillows, which feel like dead sausages. It’s only one pillow per head, and if they can accommodate you, you might get two. The kitchen is very well equipped with all the necessary utensils, dishware, tableware, fridge, microwave, etc. Of course you have wireless connections, as you’re in the heart of Silicon. You get to read the Mercury News, which, by the way, is a far, far better newspaper than the San Francisco Chronicle. Boy, did I suffer with that paper for 2 years!

If you’re here for business, they have a dry cleaning service and meeting rooms for your convenience. There was also a hair dryer, a coffeemaker, and two line phones but, unfortunately, no view. The rates are extremely reasonable, especially if you book on the Internet. I don’t know why, but we have frequently landed in handicap accessible rooms. Don’t laugh, there is an upside - everything is larger!

We had been debating whether or not to see the San José Mission; I’m not sure if it was to reinforce the feeling that when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, or if I thought it was going to be any different from the others I had seen. Instead, lunch took priority, and we found this surprisingly good sandwich shop on Mission Boulevard with outside seating. It was hauntingly quiet on the streets that afternoon, and the sun shone very brightly. Ample parking is available in the back, so don’t sweat the streets.

Inside I was happy to see a great variety of foods, expecting a heavily slanted Mexican menu. You could have empanadas and just as easily order a gyro or a falafel sandwich. No need to say more, as I did just that. Chuck decided on the soup and sandwich and ended up being very unhappy about the soup. I tasted it, and it seemed okay, but this is probably not the place to order New England clam chowder.

The owner was very helpful and allowed us to take pictures of his restaurant. There is also seating inside, and I spotted one other person eating. The atmosphere is very cozy and inviting. At the counter, bags of chips and assorted snacks are practically spilling out of their basket holders; ditto for cookies and personal-sized cake slices. Just what I need on a low-carb diet!

Beverages are also varied enough to please just about everybody, with the usual sodas, coffees ,and teas, but also cappuccino and an assortment of smoothies. These are usually hefty enough to have as a meal. There were some colorful posters advertising "combo meals" and "steak subs" - actually all the walls were entirely covered with either food photos or menus on chalkboards.

If you did not know what an Ohlone was, let me tell you that it’s not a brand of ham or pastrami. It’s the name of an ancient Indian tribe that settled in these parts before they were "dethroned" from the land. They claim to be the original inhabitants of San Francisco, and I don’t doubt it a bit. If you’re interested to read further on the Ohlone, click here to see the official website.

Wherever we are, I will always seek restaurants that highlight food from Egypt, Morocco, Lebanon, Tunisia, and the like, which almost always feature entertainment with a belly dancer. Menara Morocco is your Casbah away from home.

In the immense entry lies a decorative pool in the center and red benches alongside two of the walls for those waiting. Faithful motif reproductions of Moroccan-style architecture line a third wall with luminarias and potted trees. Once in a while, you’ll catch a glimpse of the dancer as she twirls around the room. Everyone is sitting on poufs or comfortable, low couches. There are children, teens, and adults, as this is family entertainment at its best. Perhaps they have finally figured out that in the U.S., belly dancing is not some form of striptease, but rather an art form. Hallelujah!

We were finally seated where we had a great view of the entire room during the break. There are two shows nightly; the staff prefers to accommodate newcomers between acts. The waitstaff is fully decked out in native attire, right down to the red tarboush (hat) worn by men in Northern Africa. I can understand bits and pieces of what they say, but I’m quite rusty at this point.

The ritual of hand-washing with rosewater ensues, as we will be eating with our hands. The dinners are all prix-fixe and run about $35-40 per person; the appetizer is a trio of salads, including eggplant, which is my favorite. Then the killer second plate arrives, and lest you know what you’re facing, do not tear into it immediately. It is piping hot inside, and it’s b’stilla, sometimes spelled with an "a" to help with pronunciation. This is a dish traditionally made of shredded pigeon meat, pine nuts, cinnamon, raisins, and god knows what other ingredients; here they just substitute with chicken, and it’s just as delectable. It’s enclosed in filo-like dough, so I suggest you break the pie up to let the steam escape before you go into ecstasy. Chuck and I practically licked the plate, but there is much more to come. A tagine dish is next, and that is always presented in a pyramid-like serving plate and cover. This one has chicken. They also bring the couscous, which is requisite for any meal, garnished with vegetables, followed by a meat dish (can you believe?) and ending with sweets dripping with honey, accompanied by a delicious glass of mint tea. Yes, tea is served in a glass and has a couple of mint leaves swimming around. The waiters take particular delight in serving the tea from about three feet above the glass. By this point, your fingers are fragrant and greasy, and your towel is no longer white.

Unfortunately, many of the pictures we took were totally blurred and included the belly dancer and myself dancing together, the tea ritual, and some of the plates I mention above.

The landscape change is abrupt as you approach the Egyptian Museum of San José; with the Ankh symbol prominent on its rooftop and white columns decorated in blue and gold, the architecture of this place does try to emulate the temples found at Karnak, Egypt. I became very interested in the word Rosicrucian, as it was prominent at the door and part of the description just about everywhere. Who were these people, and what was their connection to ancient Egypt? As a native of Egypt, I did not recall ever having come across that word, even though I had left the land many decades ago.

Peaceful and artfully set gardens surround the museum and its other buildings; you’ll be able to see them all, including the lovely, colorful geometric fountain whose cascading water breaks the silence. If you look carefully, you will spot a few papyri plants growing on the side, and imagine that they grow exactly the same way along the banks of the Nile.

As we walked inside, there was a children’s class in progress; not too many adults were visiting the museum that day. It is possible to see the exhibits in an orderly fashion if you follow the brochure, which is available at the door:

1. The Afterlife Gallery

2. Tomb Replica

3. Daily Life Gallery

4. Religion and Kingship

5. Akenaten and the Sekhmet Shrine

6. The Rotating Exhibits Gallery

Between five and six, the layout breaks for the museum store. Naturally, we didn’t follow the order, as we never follow any order.

The sheer number of artifacts collected through donations and/or sent by grateful Egyptians during the excavations is phenomenal. The large significant statues and historical finds, such as the Rosetta Stone, are unfortunately all replications of the originals. However, on the positive side, if you can’t make it to London’s British Museum, you can at least visualize the stone right here. The most brilliantly executed is the replica of the tomb: though it looks dark and foreboding at the entrance, be brave and go in. The walls are replete with hieroglyphics and drawings of Egyptian men, women, and animals depicting life as it was then. For a glimpse of this short journey, you can go here and click on the "Tomb Tour."

Another fascinating segment for me was the display of women’s kohl for make-up, flax for clothing (linen), and the importance of frankincense and myrrh for temple rituals. Extraordinary and disturbing was the mummified body of Usermontu-Huy, whose knee had been x-rayed to reveal a surgical procedure whereby a pin had been inserted. It can be assumed that this was a king of some sort, as his pose of arms crossed is one of royalty.

The photos below really don’t do justice to all there is to see.

General admission is $9 with discounts available for members of AAA, AAM, KQED (Bay Area radio station), and the military.

Imagine a place where Burberry’s and Tommy Bahama coexist, where you can fit 17 fountains, one of which was assembled with ceramic downspouts from Provence. A place that would be the choice for a London designer’s first U.S. store, where you can eat alfresco and pretend that you are on one of Europe’s boulevard sidewalks, or go Asian at a restaurant called "Straits". A place where you can buy fresh flowers alongside Italian designer footwear and dizzyingly pricey Escada. I nearly dropped when I saw their boutique here! Choose between genuine Murano glass or earthenware pottery at Anthropologie. BCBG has a foothold here, and so does Salvatore Ferragamo (are you thinking shoes?—absolutely the sexiest, drop-dead gorgeous, bleeding-nose-from-the-high-prices shoes!!). Gap Kids has absolutely nothing on Oilily, except perhaps a sprinkling of reason on the price tags.

Santana Row also pays attention to home décor; naturally, Crate & Barrel and the Container Store deliver their familiar brands of furnishing, the former with its functional and exquisitely fashioned objects and the latter making storage the hobby du jour. But it doesn’t stop there… on our way back to the car, I belatedly spotted a simply huge Sur La Table and was immediately sorry we hadn’t done that side of the street first. How can one possibly not indulge one’s culinary fantasies? As we think more upscale, we can always turn to Brookstone and then some names that were not familiar: Casa Adobe, Home Sanctuary, Kim3 Furnishings.

For the holidays, the Santana Row developers had some of the most expensive cars parked on the sidewalks with huge, red ribbons on them. I wonder how many of them were sold… you do hear a mélange of languages here, which makes me think this must be a tourist destination, as well.

Now, for my favorite parts of this four-block enclave:

Phillips Gallery at 333 Santana Row (408/246-8020)—surprised that I picked art?? Aside from the impossibly gorgeous glass sculptures are sculptures of glass and stone by a Zimbabwean artist Gideon Nyanhongo. I also absolutely loved the monochromatic floral paintings of one Jaline Pol. She builds on the paint with wild abandon and will create the same bouquet time and again using different colors, always with stunning results. I wanted all of them. Royo’s women were also here, as well as the whimsical works of Vladimir Kush. Simon Bull’s extreme close-ups of flowers reminded me too much of Georgia O’Keefe, and she’s one in a class by herself.

Anthropologie is also a favorite destination for me, mainly because it’s an experience and a culture in shopping. This emporium can have you island-shopping from sublime to ridiculous in less than ten steps.

And finally, I cannot resist a critical review of the hideous French spelling at wannabe restaurant Left Bank of simple words like "tourtes" and "specialités".