Today I am a mean

 Monday morning and I awoke to the sound of not very much. I attended to my morning toilet as all the classic literary characters did and prepared to galavant. It might be a little less formal and it might be a get-together-vant but whatever, I shall vant, I say. Vant. This morning's plan included a walk to the shuk and then grading papers somewhere. Exotic and deserving of much conversation, no doubt. I wandered lonely as a clod in the same direction as yesterday but I turned down Milchemet Sheshet Hayamim and over towards the central market (the shuk). I took a left on Zangwill because it isn't called Zangwon't, so I thought I had to.

Nine 45 in the AM and the place was still working on waking up so I walked quietly. It wasn't glamorous or loud or even "nice." In fact I'm not sure if certain places were part of the shuk, and independent flea market, someone's garbage being picked through by dogs, or a homeless camp. was the water on the ground from a sound washing or a sleeping hobo? Who knows? This is the mystery of life. I had no interest in buying a kilo of chicken, lightbulbs (single use, no doubt) or  a hot water pot and am currently fixed for 1970's era broken telephones so I backed away slowly. The produce there (and there was a lot of produce there) looked beautiful, even and especially the items I could not name nor did I recognize. I headed back on Zangwill to Barth and back towards the mall.

As I neared the mall, I took off my bag, ready to surrender it to the elderly gentleman so he could make no show of checking it while he waved me through. This time, though, there was another senior citizen standing at the other side of the metal detector. As expected, I buzzed so I though he would take out o wand and give me a more thorough going over/. I lifted my arms so he could but instead he looked at me and said something smarmy about my assuming that position. I assume it was smarmy but he made the classic error of speaking to me in Hebrew. I stared at him blankly while he repeated himself and then I said "I got nothing." I meant both that I was carrying nothing problematic and that I had no answer to whatever he said. I let the proper amount of disdain creep in, took my bag from the sitting guy and walked away leaving the annoying-genarian staring in more confusion than he expected. Nerts to him and points to me. Off to Aroma.

I used the machine standing outside of the store to order myself a cup of tea and went inside to wait for my name to be called. I also hovered, hoping to find a seat. There were ample seats in the smoking area but that wasn't the aroma I was going for and I specifically ordered my tea without the emphysema. Israelis smoke less than I remember but they are still pretty hardcore about it. One woman (I'm not making this up) was rolling her own cigarette at her table. I hope she knows that they DO sell them prerolled. I cose not to tell her as she was engrossed in her work. Eventually a woman shifted in her seat and I took that as a hint that she was done, so I dumped her into the garbage and sat down. My name was called (though confusion ensued when it turned out that another guy sharing my name also ordered tea...what are the odds? If you answered 1:1 then you are right) and I chose Earl Grey because I always choose Early Grey.

I sat and grey-ded papers. See what I did there? HA! 

It isn't that I particularly like malls but I find that if I don't want to buy anything then it is easier to have everything I don't want in one place. Also, it is all inside so even though the weather is approaching nice, inside is known for the lack of wind, sun and bugs. Today, I knew with certainty exactly what I didn't want to buy so I was able to move through the mall with purpose, being more efficient in my non-purchases. A guy tried to get me to buy something at a phone kiosk but I looked him solidly in the eye and said "I'm good" and he, taken aback, abacked away. Stupid American tourist FTW!

Once it was 11AM somewhere I headed to the lower floor to get me some lunch. Sure, the quaint random places on the street are more interesting but this chain is called Burger-Ranch so how could that be bad? I went over to the automated machine and knew enough Hebrew to choose the buttons marked "induce heart attack here." I like these machines because they have pictures and don't require that you pretend to try and speak Hebrew while the under-employed teenagers behind the counter giggle. I got to the end and indicated how I wanted to pay. The machine told me to take my reciept. I heard a print head moving, but no receipt showed up. Strange. I sat down and waited. The lack of movement concerned me. Some places have screens that allow you to see the status of your order by tracking the nuber on your receipt.

I didn't get a receipt so I was sort of stuck. I was reluctant to order a second time because either it wouldn't work again and I would feel doubly foolish, or both orders would go through and I'd be on the hook for 2 lunches. Not that I mind that, but some people don't know me and might think that eating a double lunch is somhow "gross. The fools. I also didn't want to go up and strike up a complex conversation about how the machine, which has as its central purpose the ability to avoid striking up complex conversations wasn't working. This was a bind, so I sat a-wishing and a a-hoping. Eventually my hunger got the better of me so I went to the OTHER automated machine and put in my order again. I sneaking didn't change my name so maybe if both orders came through, that other guy from Aroma would up one. Again, the sound of printing. Again, no receipt. THis time I marched up to the counter and looked incredibly helpless. I could hear teenager eyes being rolled like so many Hebrew R's and when I explained my predicament to the young women behind the counter, she checked her computer and knew exactly what I had ordered. This leads me to wonder, if my order was in the system, why did it take my prompting for her to check and begin preparing it? Isn't that exactly what the computer is supposed to do so I don't have to? I chose not to ask. But to recap, I mouthed off to the security guard, shook my head "no" when asked for a cigarette by a passing stranger, didn't buy anything from the phone guy and successfully asked for help at the food court. For me these are signs of incredibly maturity and emotional growth so, yay vacation! Yes, I'd rather avoid human interactions but if I have to do it, I feel confident enough that I can do it poorly and with limited effect.

After I ate my angus burger and onion rings (actually, pretty darned good for a near-fast food experience) I vacated my table so that the old woman and her family had a place to sit. I'm cool like that. I decided to wander back by way of a park. The picture on google made it look like it had tree lined paths and miles (in kilometers, that's "kilometers") of greenery. I used my phone maps and found my way to the playground/dog run/mini park. It had some interesting kids rides -- some you pedaled, some pushed and other forms of activity. That got me thinking -- I know that in Sesame Place, there are cycles connected to generators that show you how your effort can light up a lightbulb. Well, why aren't all the kids playthings connected to a storage battery so their unending energy can be stored? I'm sure that any one kid's playtime won't amount to much, but imaging hundreds and thousands of kids playing for hours each day. That has to add up. The energy can be stored or put into the grid or whatever people do with energy these days. Just an idea. I had a picture but it got lost in the interwebz.

I moved through and followed the map back up to Harav Reines (but well beyond the apartment). I found a few restaurants and stores and chatted with Talia via technology before I made it back to #18. Now to plan the afternoon. Later, taters.