A Missing Piece

Along with moving to a foreign country comes the envitable adjustment peroid. And I've done pretty well, if I do say so myself. I shop at the shuk, the makolet (neighborhood mini-grocery store) and bakery. I know the name of the man who sells me my fruit. I eat foods whose labels I cannot read. Last week I took cold medicine and vitamins with only-Hebrew labels.
My American snobbishness is wearing off, I can feel it.

And though I'm only able to articulate it now, I knew that something was missing: my Coffee Place. For the last five years, a chunk of every week has been spent at various Coffee Establishments: College Perk in College Park, Small World Coffee in Princeton, West End Coffee in New Brunswick and the Run-of-the-mill Starbucks in Ellicott City. No matter where I've lived, I've had a coffee place to call my own. Until now.

Despite the pletora of coffee places in the Promised Land (including a new Coffee Bean!) I haven't found my place yet. Until today.

On Thursdays I have a break between 11:45 and 2:45. Today I spent my break at the Cafe Hillel on Emek Refaim. I didn't drink coffee, but I did get a sandwich and diet coke. And I sat.
I balanced my checkbook, made a to-do list, wrote Rosh HaShanah Cards, read for class and stared off into space. I people-watched the mostly English-speaking patrons. It was wonderful- the closest to perfect I can imagine in a country where I can't even read the whole menu. (Why do you think I always order the same thing?)

I had my favorite Mozerella, tomato and basil sandwich that comes with four olives in a little glass dish so you have something to spit the pits into. David Gray was playing and something just felt different- I had that "feeling"- a feeling I thought might be still be stuck at in the states somewhere. I have my place now.

It's the little victories here- like cupcake pans, unflavored dental floss and Vogue Magazine (it was 75 NIS!). And Cafe Hillel certainly was one of them today. It's the little things here that make the biggest impact.