Buying bread is one of the few jaunts that I can manage to pull off. Generally leaving my house is no small thing. As soon as I walk out the front door I am bombarded with ‘Brahim, Brahim, how are you? Come drink tea.’ and the small social niceties that make up the day. The bakery, however, is close enough along back alleys that I can usually get there and back without too much delay. Today I went to get some bread for lunch. Out the door, forty feet there, buy two loaves, forty feet back. It took about ten minuets. I had to say hi in Berber to the old man who owns the store across from my house. I had to talk about the weather with Mohammed my grocer in his funny patios. I had to wave a general hello to a group of about five teenagers who saw me cross the street. I had to actually buy the bread. And lastly I had to sit down to a cup of tea with the men on my street who watched for my return and asked me about the World Cup.
In the end, I’ve had quicker bread buying experiences.
No comments:
Post a Comment