Grocery shopping is an adventure!  I gave myself away as goyim the very first time I entered the market.  Feeling entirely lost amongst cans, bottles, and packages, I head for the familiar produce department.  I recognize oranges, onions, apples, avocado's, cabbage and lettuce.

My items were rung up t the check-out counter, but every word directed at me was foreign.  Helpless, I open the palm of my hand and let the cashier remove any amount of coinage she deemed enough.

I walked out, wishing someone had empathized.

Even the bank entry with its' ATM machines seems like a friendlier, more comfortable place.  There's some familiarity.  The word "English" appears and we eagerly press it for other recognizable directions.  Success!  We make a withdrawal and feel somewhat more secure with shekels in our pockets.

We proceed up the hill, hoping to reach the apartment before Shabbat begins.  The upward climb of 134 stairs to the front door lead us to a place of refuge and comfort called "home".