Friday, June 5, 2020

“No. I can’t accept that.” The worker at the hummus joint looks down at the money I am holding out. “Imagine if I were to give that as change to a customer.” I look at the money myself. Much of the twenty shekel note, usually red, is brown. It looks burnt to me, but it might be a stain. If it is, I don’t want to know what stained it and how. I hadn’t noticed that before. I must have gotten it as change but I don’t know when or where. I put the note back in my wallet and count out coins. A handwritten sign says that on Fridays they only accept cash. Between one-shekel and half-shekel coins, I have enough money. It’s my first time sitting down to eat hummus here since the lockdown started. What I’ve been served now is a little different than what I’d gotten for the same order from the same worker before. There’s a lot more paprika and more of a green herb that I can’t identify. But it’s good. As I sit alone, a guy wanders up to me and tries to sell me random items from a bag: Chanel-branded cologne, an electric massager, and other odd objects. I keep saying no. I can’t recall how to say anything more forceful. He doesn’t leave until he’s gone through the entire contents of the bag. Once I’m done eating, I make my usual rounds. I get a challah at the bakery and a double espresso at the cheap coffee chain next door. A new kitchenware outlet has opened within the Heart of the City mall. I get two spatulas, red for meat and blue for dairy. At the international foods store, I look at spices, dried fruit, noodles, and other items, mostly from Asia. They do a lot of business with foreign workers. The shopkeeper speaks fluent English. As I recall, he has a son in Los Angeles. Still, I do the whole transaction in Hebrew. I hadn’t able to do that before. At the produce shop, I get sweet potatoes, yellow peppers, and green apples. As I wait in what loosely resembles a line, the cashier reaches into a bin and hands a fistful of fresh basil to the customer behind me. The scent as it passes me is overpowering, but not in a bad way. I head home past the hummus joint. When I was there earlier, the line had been five or six people long, stretching back from the counter. It now holds about twenty people and bends to the left. The ones in back will have to wait. Today is one of the longest Fridays of the year. There will be plenty of time before they close for the Sabbath.