Joseph Zitt's [as if in dreams] 2024-03-28
Hi. I'm Joseph Zitt. I moved from the US to Israel in 2017. This is my newsletter about more-or-less daily life in my city in the shadow of war. You can select these links to subscribe or unsubscribe. There are more links at the bottom. You can also read this email online here. Here we go...
The paper bags for the baked goods at the supermarket downstairs from work keep moving around. When I first noticed them on the racks surrounding the bakery, they were on the left. Then they moved to the right, near the scale, which makes sense. Today, two stacks of them sit on a shelf above where they were.
The baked goods are separated into two groups, each with its own tongs. The ones to the left are dairy. The ones to the right aren't.
I pick up the tongs and a bag from one stack. The worker in the bakery, a young woman with a headscarf, interrupts me. "The other bags are for the pastries. The one you have is for these. They're new."
She points to two trays next to the bags. They have an item whose name I don't know. They are like six-inch pizzas, without tomatoes or cheese but with spices. The ones on one tray are plain. The ones on the other have vegetables, sliced paper-thin, baked on to them.
I put down the bag and look at them for a while. I pick up one of the other bags and grab a chocolate pastry with the tongs. I stop before putting it in the bag.
I put them down again, pick up the first bag, and slip one of the flat things with the vegetables into it. It's still warm.
The woman in the bakery watches me do it. When we make eye contact again, she gives me a genuine smile. "Good! Bon appétit!"
I bring it, along with my usual fruit, vegetables, and hummus, to the self-checkout. My favorite cashier is there, helping people. Almost everyone needs help.
This time, so do I. When I scan the code on the bag with the baked thing, the system doesn't register.
The cashier comes over and takes the bag from me. "What is this?" I don't know. It's new as of today.
"Does this price look good for you?" It's a bit under six shekels, so about a buck fifty American. Yes, that's good.
She scans it again and authorizes it with another code on her lanyard. She hovers over me as I scan more things. "Oh, you know how to do this." She steps over to another man who looks lost and a bit frightened by the technology.
When I'm gone, I see her guiding an empty shopping cart out of the area. "People spend ten shekels to use these. Then they forget to return it and get the coin back. I have to bring it back for them. But I do a good thing. I don't keep the coin. I put it in the can for the rabbis."
She and I wander off in our separate directions.
As I get off the elevator by my office, two women with baby carriages zoom in. Two others have to wait for the next one.
I don't know what it is with all these baby carriages, these past few days. Maybe it's warm enough now to bring the babies out. Maybe the health clinic is having a discount on vaccinations. Maybe it's Take Your Baby to Work Day.
It has been warm. Yesterday and today, I haven't worn my sweatshirts. I like sweatshirts. Oh, well.
Right as the temperatures are rising, they're closing our beaches for a week.1 It's not out of spite. They'll be using them next week to train rescue workers.
Much like Purim, our Independence Day this year will be muted, without fireworks and massive celebrations.2
The preceding day, the official 'Memorial Day for the Fallen Soldiers of the Wars of Israel and Victims of Actions of Terrorism' should be intense and special this year.3
Our new mayor took some time off for fun and exercise. He's an avid handball player. A photographer from the local news site caught him in action.4
The Cinematheque will be presenting what they call the "Culture Magazine" on Shabbat.5 It's a sort of live talk show, in which a host speaks with experts in several different fields onstage.
The space has been designed to support simple live events like these. There are often brief lectures before films. When I saw a concert documentary about Nick Cave (the musician, not the visual artist), someone gave an introduction to his work. Another movie (I forget which) had a lecture on Camp. And at the launch of the Japanese Film Festival, with the local premiere of Wim Wenders's splendid Perfect Days, there were remarks by, among others, the ambassador from Japan.
They could probably fit a small band up there, if appropriate. And if they were to screen Rocky Horror, it would be a good place for a Floor Show.
Our Daylight Savings Time starts tonight.6 Yep, it's on a Thursday. While much of the rest of the world changes on Saturday nights, here that might conflict with the end of Shabbat, and would have people feeling out of sync for work on Sunday.
We'll be back to our usual timezone differences with the US. We're seven hours ahead of the east coast, and ten ahead of the west.
I stop up to the House of the Hundred Grandmothers after work. The medical system has me particularly baffled today. A conversation with a clinic about some mundane tests left me with no idea what was going on, since I couldn't communicate well with the worker, who also seemed to be assuming information that I didn't know.
My family are experts at this. We get online to the site and are able to sort thing out somewhat.
On the way out, a white cat sitting on a high wall yowls repeatedly at me. I'm not sure what it wants. Food? Help getting down from the wall? For the large human to go away?
I pick the third option. I see it on the ground a few minutes later, chasing a gray cat around. Things seem to be back to as normal as they ever get.
Feel free to forward the newsletter to other people who might be interested.
Here’s an archive of past newsletters.
You can find me via email, Bluesky, Mastodon, Facebook, and, just out of inertia, X/Twitter. There's more about me and my books, music, and films at josephzitt.com.
The newsletter’s official mailing address is 304 S. Jones Blvd #3567, Las Vegas NV 89107. (I’m in Israel, but if physical mail comes to me at that Las Vegas address, it’ll get scanned and emailed. I don’t expect that to happen much. If you want to send me physical mail, ask me for a real address.)
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L'hitraot.