While it’s still somewhat fresh in my mind, I want to tell the world (or maybe just SerandEz readers) about my trip to
When people ask me how it was I’ve been saying that it felt a lot like my first year in
During that first year in
Out of all the little things that happened though, there is one little conversation I had that I’m realizing was not as insignificant as I thought.
One night during the week between Yom Kippur and Succos I met up with my friend Avi and we had nothing to do so we started roaming around Ben Yehuda talking about what was up and how our trips were going. We got on a bus and headed over to the Tachane Merkazit to meet up with some friends of his and while on the bus we started talking about yarmulkes and how he was experimenting with different yarmulkes and he felt like he was getting different reactions from people based on which yarmulke he wore. We both realized that was way too deep of a conversation and we weren’t interested in discussing the depth of yarmulke psychology at the moment (that’s for another post). But then he told me this little thing that happened that day. He had a locksmith over to change the locks on his parents’ apartment where he was staying for the chag and the guy didn’t look frum or not frum. He just looked like a regular Israeli and he wasn’t wearing a yarmulke. After the locksmith finished Avi offered him a drink and he said yeah. But first he asked if he could borrow a kippah to make a bracha. That was the story. The guy wouldn’t take the drink without having a yarmulke on his head to make a bracha. No big deal. People like to make brochos. And maybe he was Sefardi and some don’t always wear a yarmulke because that’s their minhag. Not a big thing at all.
And it hits me. I love that. I love those little things that only happen in