We are between courses at Saint George's, and that means the dining room is closed. Judy and I have been preparing meals in our little kitchen, and that means grocery shopping. The nearest market belongs to Marwan, and we have been there enough that we can greet each other my name now. "Salaam Marwan, kiefhalik?" He kindly replies in English. His marked is about 16' wide by 24' deep, and (fortunately) about 12 ' tall. He doesn't sell vegetables, or fresh meat or bead, but he has just about everything else--the dry cereal is up high and he retrieves your election with a long pole with a nail in its end. When we wanted something he didn't have in stock, he set it aside for us the next time he had it--when the change didn't work out exactly right, we owed him an extra 10 shekels the next time we were in. What a wonderful experience.
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