Driving Without a License

As I headed towards Mahane Yehuda (one of Jerusalem's famous open air fruit/vegetable/meat markets) this morning, I decided that today was the day to buy an agala. I won't give you the literal translation of the word because the one my roommate provided finds favor in my eyes.

"You bought a little-old-lady-cart?" she said, when I informed her of my purchase.
"I bought a cart."
"Where is it?" she asked.
"In the corner over there."
"It's plaid!"



Indeed, it is plaid. My plaid little-old-lady-cart.
But if you ask me, it's a necessity--not of being an old lady, but of being a true shopper of the shuk (market).

First, having a cart allows you to intimidate other shoppers. In the crowded alleyways of the shuk, this is essential. Not only do vegetables rolling off huge piles threaten to dampen your progress as your make your way towards your favorite tomato guy (you know the one, he sings about it being the tomato's birthday and that's why it's on sale), but little old ladies (note: ALL with their plaid carts) often attempt to trample you on their way to the cheapest whole-shiny-smoked fish (if you are imagining it being gross, you are correct).

Second, pulling your cart around relieves stress. I speak now not only of the back pain and finger pain (hold 27 plastic bags full of peppers and olives in your hands and you'll understand what I mean) which inevitably accompanies a shuk visit, but also of the stress my boyfriend likes to express in the following sentence, "Don't send me there--no, not on a Friday--no, anywhere but there." My exercise for relieving this stress is as follows:

1) Pull your cart without watching where you are going (this is a skill one learns very quickly once moving to Israel).
2) Run over as many people's toes as possible.
3) When you feel a bump (someone's left pinky-toe being taken off in one fell swoop), turn around with a shocked look on your face and say, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to."
4) Turn back around and smile devilishly.
5) Repeat steps 1-4 in every alleyway of the shuk.
6) Join the witness protection program because the little old ladies with their carts will probably recognize you next week and come after you brandishing cheap-whole-shiny-smoked fish.

The third, and certainly not final, benefit of having a little-old-lady-cart is that it allows me to use my driving skills for something. Since I received my driver's license (a disheartening story which can be told at another time or . . . NEVER), I have not driven in Israel. Wait, I once moved someone's car to another parking space--it was thrilling. If you don't use it, you lose it. And just to prove how close driving a car is to driving an agala, the man who sold me the little-old-lady-cart (despite my being under the legal age limit) asked if I had a license to drive it.

As I headed out the store, with my new cart in tow, he called after me, "Have a good trip!" And I did--except you know, I have to say, prices just aren't what they used to be when I was a kid.