Memoirs from a coke can

Memoirs of a pillow case

Shabbat. The dining hall only serves lunch today. Those of us (Mark, Rachael and me) who did not go to Jerusalem got a 36 shekel coupon to buy food at the kibbutz store. Normally, everything is shut down on Saturday. But this was the first weekend that the store was going to be open limited hours on Saturday… Some people claimed that even the phone systems was shutdown on the Shabbat – but given that I talked to Connie this afternoon would suggest otherwise.

Since I didn’t check out the store hours and that I wasn’t too cranked up about walking around on blistered feet – I stayed put until lunch. This was a packing day too. The Canadian contingent (which includes Dan the immigrant) was moving to new digs for the last week. So I set about packing up my stuff.

I lanced my blisters again and discovered that two of them expanded somewhat from hoofing it around Tiberias. Sigh! Oh well.

When I finally went forth I was greeted with scenes of family life. The neighbors to the south were hosting company. The beach was busy too. It was refreshing to see such liveliness after the mundane routine that befalls the kibbutz through the week. The only movement that occurred was between beach and bungalow. The scene became familiar.

In a flash, I was on the rocky shores of the Wapiti River by Grande Prairie with Connie and the boys. After a weenie roast, we’d throw rocks in the water. The kids were toddlers back then donned in diapers and tiny shoes. They’d walk precariously along the water line amidst stones that were half their size deposited by the flood a few decades ago. In moments their shoes would be soaked and their footing was unsure. Of course, it wasn’t long after that they’d fall on their fannies in the water. When they stood up the river water line dropped an inch. Pampers full of river water, sagging down to their thighs they looked like two little hermit crabs beetling along the rocks. Where did the time go?

Then I paused to consider if the new store hours would eventually become a prevalent condition of this community. Would the grounds maintenance start to extend into the weekend? Would the family activity that I see today be reduced by a third because mom or dad is working? Sigh.

After lunch I traipsed up to the store and took a good look around. I was surprised to find that prices was on par with the Canadian market. A can of Gillette shaving crème was 27 NIS ($6 CDN). Not my brand, but it didn’t seem too shocking. I was expecting convenience store markups. Across the board, the products were recognizable by the shape and color of the container even though the labels were completely Hebrew like Pringles, Cheetos, Nestle ice cream, Pledge, Ajax etc. Some items were distinctly No.Am. like Gold Bond powder – that had a sticker on it that read in Hebrew – similar to what we see in the grocery store import aisle. The Coke containers were cool. Coca Cola was written in English on one side and a transliteration in Hebrew appeared on the other side.

Dig volunteers got a 20% discount on everything in the store. I paid 6.20 NIS for two cans of coke but it never seemed to add up to the 4.83NIS/can I saw written on the shelf… maybe my good looks was worth 1.50NIS a visit.

The bus returned early from the Jerusalem jaunt. In a way I was a bit peeved that my personal bubble was about to contract again… let alone that it was happening sooner than expected. But I was, again, silently amused at the expressions of relief that greeted me. Dr Schuler was true to his word when he described the tour as “running where Jesus walked”. Though the temperature was lower in Jerusalem, the pace was vintage E0. I felt bad that the team had to chase through the sights. I cringed to consider the hurry and the horde. But on the other hand, I was grateful for the retreat I enjoyed as a result. It’s just what the Good Physician ordered.

That’s what kind of day it was.

In Christ,
'o δοuλος