One of the things I did not get to do on birthright in January 2002 (for those who need a refresher, that was the first trip after September 11th) was to go to the shuk. Beth and Ira decided that it was wrong that I had never been to the shuk and took it upon themselves to remedy this situation.

The Shuk is an experience of all senses. The colors are amazing… there are a lot of things I could say but they’d all sound like dumb clichés, so this will be mostly pictures.

Here Beth is showing me that, as evidenced by the beautiful apricots that this is mishmish season. This made me think of my friend Karam in Brooklyn. He taught me the Arabic expression “بكرة في المشمش” - “Bokra fi al mishmish” which he told me means “tomorrow in the apricot,” and I have heard variously translated as “come back in the apricot season” or “Tomorrow there will be apricots.” Essential meaning, “Yeah, right” or “never gonna happen.”

This is fresh pita. As we approach the pita stand that Beth likes, she explains to me that you don’t want your pita 15 minutes old. She points to the pita coming out of the oven and says “This is what you want.” She picks up a freshly packed “נילון” (That’s “neelon,” plastic bag) of pita and holds it out to me.

“Feel.”

“You have to beg them to take your money,” she explains. “See, he’s walking by and he’s going to ignore me. Again.”

“Fried things, grape leaves, schnitzel, to honor the holy Shabbat”

Stopping for some sweets for Shabbat, Ira points out this place. “See,” he says “where there’s a menu, and it looks like it’s telling you what they have? They don’t mention the pots. See, if you know to peek in the pots, you can get something nice.”

And this, of course, is the infamous David Dagim.

“This is the guy who takes my order,” says Ira.

“And this is the guy who gives me a hard time.”

One of the really lovely things about shopping the shuk is that you get to taste just about everything. The cheese guy gave Ira and me each a slice off a big hunk of really lovely gruyere, while another poured us each a taste of some pretty nice Tishbi wine. Beth and I were handed some dried cranberries by the nut guy and we all tried the mysterious bean salad at the place with the humous and herring.

I am a fan of the shuk.

On the way there, Ira pointed out this sign:

“Doesn’t it look like it says OBGYN?”