Friday, January 22, 2010

Shabbat Shalom

Earlier, I was walking to the boutique bread store thinking of metaphors of this morning. The sun is out and the air is crisp. I remember myself as a kid in Germany, my hand lost in the giant paws of my father, walking to the local bakery to buy Brötchen. When I got old enough my mom would send me with the bakery list pinned to the back of my bike. Our breakfasts would consist of yellow cheeses and fine bread, jam from Switzerland and wurst from the butcher.
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Friday mornings are really lovely in Jerusalem. When I walk into the supermarket I am greeted by a wine barrel displaying a local brand of wine and coconuts decorating the negative space. Coconuts. In January, in Jerusalem. Coconuts in January in Jerusalem. Say it with me sisters.
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I proceed to the ten item checkout. In Jerusalem, the local supermarket has ten registers and opens three, creating mass traffic on a heavy shopping morning. I do not even look at my items, it is my assumption that if I can carry my items then I probably do not have over the limit.
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As i place my items on the conveyor belt, a man two persons behind me points out that I am over the limit. I look at him puzzled and stare at my items in front of me. I count them, he is correct, I have fourteen.
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I apologize to him and told him this travesty I have created was far from intentional. He sternly looks at me and states I should leave the line. The woman directly behind me rolls her eyes and tells me it is not a big deal.

"Maybe where you come from, you can behave in such a manner" he snipes at me. "But not here."

I am completely shocked at such a comment by a stranger.
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"Where I come from, someone who wears a kippa (Yamaka) would never behave in such a manner on Erev Shabbat".
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Then I go home and literally bawl my eyes out to my husband. La Sigh, my love affair with Israel will continue. but that man, well, I am sure his wife does not like him.

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