It is Israel, after all…

In the bottom of the building where my office is, there are two small cafés…the one on the left serves meat and the one on the right serves dairy. The other day, my friend Aliza stopped by for a visit and we went down to the meat café to grab a bite to eat and just “catch up”. Cafe

Since I was just going downstairs, I grabbed my wallet and my cell phone from the office and went down to the café. After lunch Aliza joined me upstairs until it was time to pack up and go home.

As I was packing up, I suddenly realized that I didn’t have my wallet. It wasn’t on my desk and it wasn’t in my bag…

…oh no! I don’t think I brought it up with me after lunch. I think I left it on the table in the café…

<<<snipping scenes of Penina on the brink of hysteria>>>

As I began to officially “freak out”, Aliza tried to reassure me. “This is Israel,” Aliza said calmly.

Yes, and people’s wallets get stolen in Israel, too, you know…

“Yes, but in Israel its much more likely that you’ll get it back than it would be in America.” Aliza said calmly. She encouraged me to delay my hysteria until we went downstiars and asked…

Okay, I calmed down a little and held back the official freaking out until I had at least inquired at the café. If my wallet was gone, this would be the third time in three years. The first time it was left in a taxi cab, the second time it was stolen from my house, this time…I really don’t want to go back to the DMV to replace my Driver’s license again!

Aliza and I packed up and went downstairs. While we were walking, I was trying to figure out how to say, “I think I left my wallet here” in Hebrew. But no need…as soon as I walked in, the manager (or owner?) had this huge smile on his face and reached down to get my wallet. I told him that I had forgotten it and like the typical Jewish mother that I hear tell resides in all Israelis regardless of gender or age, he began to tell me that I shouldn’t leave my wallet like that (duh!) and that he had tried to call after me when I left but that I didn’t hear him.

Baruch Hashem. My wallet was intact and returned by one of the nicest guys in Israel. So, if you are ever in Har Hotzvim and need a bite to eat…be sure to stop in at the little meat café in the bottom of Hartum 9! Botey avon!


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