Friday, February 1, 2013


Today I went shopping with a few friends. Not clothes shopping, not souvenir shopping... grocery shopping. Kind of. My roommates and I were looking for some snack food to prevent death-by-hunger on the Sabbath and after early dinners. So we went to Costco. Jerusalem style.

Just down the road is a market that sells food stuffs in large bulk, hence the kindly inappropriate nickname "Costco." The bulk items is about where the similarities stop. The real Costco is clean, organized, full of helpful employees. Looks a little something like this:

The "Costco" here looks like this:

It's an open warehouse with uneven floors and dirty shelves.  Small children followed us at an uncomfortably close length and local men stared.  In Arab Costco there are no prices- you take the items in question to the counter and ask how much.  The men behind the counter appraise you, glance at the item, and bark out a price.  We're still trying to figure out when and where bartering is appropriate and how the prices are even decided (apparently blonde girls get lower offers).  Everything is already so cheap, it's hard to imagine driving the price down any further.

Basically it was a party.  The best part?  The room that is entirely devoted to Israeli sweets.  Seriously, does it get much better than a multi pack of chocolates for less than three dollars?  I think not.

Note the super fashionable fanny packs and matching lanyards...
I'm pretty sure I'm at EFY on steroids.  

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