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The Traffic Jam


The road worker, dressed in an orange protective suit, blocked our way and the way of dozens of other cars behind us. Waving his hands he indicated the direction to the diversion.


Our mouths dropped in astonishment when we beheld the line of cars and other vehicles waiting to take the detour. Ettie maneuvered the Toyota into a place in the line of traffic. Resigning ourselves to a long wait, we crept after the car in front of us. It stopped and so did we, it moved forward, so did we. Progress towards our home was excruciatingly slow.


For about 10 minutes we didn’t move at all and it became clear that we wouldn't be in time for the appointment at the Science Museum, the outing Ettie had promised Noga. To make matters worse, she hadn’t eaten breakfast and was complaining of hunger in the back seat. The situation was critical; a hungry little girl and stuck in traffic.


An idea flashed in my mind, “‘what about the Aroma cafe nearby”? I asked. “they sell good coffee and snacks, like the famous bureka; a turkish pastry of fluffy dough filled with salty cheese, a favourite of mine.


A spur of the moment decision, and Ettie made a swift about turn. An Aroma coffee for Ettie, a hot chocolate for the hungry little girl in the back seat, and two helpings of Burekas for each, brought sighs of relief to their faces. All tears of hunger were wiped away by the prospect of nourishment.


Satisfied they moved off in the car to the museum and I started the short walk home.


My route brought me to a bus stop just as the 68 was pulling up. Despite Ettie’s admonition not to ride the bus, because of Corona, I couldn’t resist the temptation of a ride home.


I climbed in and in a few minutes I was near home. All it took was a little walk down the hill along a street called Palyam and there I was, lying on the sofa in our room off the desert facing balcony reading the newspaper.


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