11/23/12 – Shabat Shalom

Our hotel was packed with local guests and their families; our group seemed to be the only foreigners on the premises.  Errant children littered each floor and there was a game of soccer going on in the crowded lobby.  I chalked it up to culture and did what every foreigner should do in similar circumstances…assimilate.

Dinner was a lively if maddening affair, just finding our group in the banquet hall required dad and I to flex our muscles and drop some shoulders…the little old ladies here were tougher than they appeared.  We came upon a bewildered couple named Mike and Cathy who had arrived at the table early and were caught up in the chaos.  We were soon joined by Bernadette and Maryanne; all of them proved to be fantastic dinner companions and the conversation flowed effortlessly.  Funny enough, the topic of religion never came up.

I became slightly annoyed when the waiter tried to pull an obvious fast one on me by telling me that I had ordered and consumed the priciest bottle of wine on offer even though I had clearly ordered the house red.  He protested and showed me the label on the bottle; I countered by reminding him that he had brought an open bottle to the table which was entirely inappropriate if in fact it was anything other than the house wine.  He gave me a knowing and respectful nod that everyone at the table took as an admission of his sneaky attempt.

We joined the buffet line with Mary Ann leading the charge.  She was an extremely thin woman in her seventies who had retired from a career in physiotherapy; she also suffered from what I termed as an “abundance of manners”.  Our small group made no progress in the line because the locals simply pushed their way in front of Mary Ann and paid her no mind.  It wasn’t long before she wised up and dropped one of her sharp bony shoulders to show that she meant business.

At dinner Sr. Jocelyn offered an explanation for the slow speed of the elevators which seemed to be running as if they were powered by an arthritic man running in a wheel.  Friday after sundown brought on the start of the Sabbath (shabat) and to offer respect to the devout Jews who may have been visiting the hotel, the elevator was set to run in program mode so that no “work” need be done.  Work meant something as simple as pressing the elevator call button; a frustrating interpretation that caused me to take the stairs which strangely enough did not qualify as work.