As it is widely appreciated that caffeine is one of the basic building blocks of life, it is axiomatic that any and all efforts to obtain said substance for oneself and others should be encouraged, even applauded. It should therefore come as no surprise that, when push came to shove and there was no other choice in the matter, the nuclear option would have to be invoked. How all that transpired will be detailed below for the patient reader.

Something to do with a war going on…

It should have been a routine transaction, as it had been numerous times before. Barbara Levine placed her usual order, one kilo of the house blend and one kilo of Sumatran dark roast, with our friends at Power Coffeeworks. But things were not going like clockwork on Agrippas St. in Jerusalem. Something to do with a war going on and a difficulty in retaining staff. Were all the workers off to battle and that was the problem? Actually, most of their crew had to leave the relative safety of the coffee bar and head back to the campus. In an effort to create a sense of ‘normalcy,’ somebody – and I don’t know who – decided to start the fall semester in the universities in January – conveniently ignoring the fact that many of the students were still in uniform, far from their campuses. Hence, Meira and the rest of the baristas were suddenly called away. Replacements were hastily recruited, and then one of them, a young lady just learning her craft, was summoned back to miluim, where her newly acquired skills would be of little use.

It’s hard to run a coffee shop this way. You gotta have staff. And then you have to be there yourself. Brandon had to fly to South Africa to deal with his aged mother and his equally aged aunt, trying to arrange to bring them back to The Land, which would have required a different kind of battle – one with the Israeli bureaucracy. A week later, he had to make a second trip back to the country of his birth. His elderly aunt had died unexpectedly, and he had no choice but return to Israel with mother in tow, who, shall we say, has seen better days and does not understand why you can’t smoke in airports.

With all this hullabaloo going on, Barbara’s order got put on hold. And once it finally got shipped, then another SNAFU ensued, this time with the Doar (the Israeli post office), never in the best of times the model of efficiency. And so, the precious package never showed up at the office at Har Halutz. It didn’t arrive, and it didn’t arrive, and because nobody had a tracking number, there was no way to figure out what had gone wrong. Except that, somewhere out there in some Israeli postal facility, two kilo of the world’s finest coffee beans are sitting on a shelf, getting staler by the minute, benefitting no one.

Friends help friends get coffee. When our friendly supplier is overwhelmed and our national mail service has failed again, there is only one thing left to do, invoke the nuclear option. Never fear my friends, help is on the way! I replicated Barbara Levine’s order from Power Coffeeworks and prepared to head north, clutching said bags of coffee in my resolute little fingers.

Like Julius Caesar’s description of Gaul (Gallia est omnia divisa in partes tres), the journey from Jerusalem to Karmiel is divided into three parts. You begin by descending into the bowels of the Navon Station and make sure to board the train headed to Tel Aviv. Since that train will wind up to Herzliya, you have to get off somewhere along the way and get on a second train, this one heading all the way to Nahariya – where you also don’t want to go. Therefore, you need to switch one more time, at one of the stations in Haifa for the train that is actually heading to Karmiel, where you will arrive some three hours after you began the journey. Figure the return trip, plus the time to and from Ma’ale Adumim, and you have the equivalent of a full day’s work. But just remember: friends help friends get coffee.

One way to look at it…

I looked at it this way: besides the extreme importance of this mission, what more important activity was I postponing or interrupting? My household chores – on the Dust We Must crew – could wait for another day. It was one of those rare weeks when neither Barbara nor I had any medical appointments. Nor did we have any other social or cultural engagements to occupy our time. My wife would be home to feed our most senior resident, Pooms, her imported salmon pâté cat food whenever she was hungry and started to yowl, so no worries there. Plus, as Barbara and I have remarked many times in the last few months, we haven’t traveled much farther than the south of Jerusalem since that fateful day in Oct. Here was my chance to wander a bit. So I packed up the coffee, brought plenty of reading material and headed out the door for an adventure.

Where did everybody go? Usually, the train leaving from the Navon station is quite crowded, and you have to scramble for a seat. I’m not implying that the train was empty – half-filled maybe, but I’m not used to having a choice of where to park myself. Such luxury! But where was everybody on a Monday morning? On a Thursday, there are lots of soldiers on the train, plus people with suitcases coming from and going to the airport, and the usual laptop crowd on their way to work. Whose regular seat was I occupying that morning? Never mind; for once I have extra room for my coat and backpack. Enjoy it while it lasts. Although maybe it’s better that things get back to normal ASAP.

We’ve made this trip before, and it’s hardly a scenic journey. There’s the airport and then Tel Aviv itself. After which… You look out the window on one side, it’s a flat expanse. They’re growing something out there, but I can’t tell what it is. There’s plenty of industrial junkyards; they have to go somewhere, so why not leave them by the train tracks? Looking out the other side, not much to see either. Every once in a while, there will be a cluster of high-rise apartment buildings, with the same kind of brutalist architecture that you see in north Tel Aviv. But there, you’re in a city. Here there’s nothing for miles around. The worst of both worlds: living crowded together in the middle of nowhere. What’s the attraction? Maybe it’s cheaper to live where there’s nothing going on and, likewise, nothing to see.

Then there’s Haifa, and every so often, the ocean, the blue Mediterranean, with the sun highlighting the waves coming to the shore. And that’s about it. Good thing I had packed some reading material (that day’s NY Times complete with crossword puzzle, a number of articles printed from different websites that I never got to read on Shabbat, and my battered copy of Henry Fielding’s Tom Jones, which I hoped to finish before the book disintegrates. I have 600 pages to go; wish me luck). I looked around at my fellow passengers. They’re all squinting at their phones, while I’m spreading out with my newspaper, like the old fart that I am. To each his own. Finally, the third leg of the trip, where we pass out-of-the-way places like Kiryat Moskin. I remember that name because Nachum has somebody in his family living there. More importantly, it meant we’re getting close to Karmiel, the end of the line.

Lunch at the mall

It must have seemed like a good idea at the time. Shortly after the line to Karmiel was completed and open for commuter traffic, someone decided to put up a large complex with offices and shops right next to the station, taking away what had been sought-after parking space. What could go wrong? Every time we finish the journey and leave the station, I look to my right. Maybe they’ve started work again? But no, it’s the same half-finished skeleton that was there before, a tribute to somebody’s great idea that wasn’t so great after all. But never mind. Someday they’ll do something. Meanwhile, I espy Barbara and Richard, with their two smiling faces, waiting in their car. Let’s get in, say hello, and head off to someplace for lunch. It’s 1PM, and we’re all hungry.

Years ago when we first started making the pilgrimage up north, there was Shany, a little bakery and coffee shop in one of the outdoor malls. Then another restaurant, Renee, opened nearby and Shany closed. One time we ate at Guesta, a very respectable Italian restaurant in another mall, but Guesta soon closed. And then Renee closed. Do you sense a pattern here? Where else is there, assuming you’re not a ravenous carnivore or you want more than a felafel or a slice? Inside one of the malls, up the escalator, is Café Greg. That at least is still open, although with the lack of business….

We decided on which of the empty tables to park ourselves, perused the menu (your choice of four languages on a tablet), and placed our orders with a young lady, the only waitperson on duty. Barbara Levine was served some crispy fried fish with freshly made potatoes. Richard got a stir fry, which he ate with gusto. I wound up with a few small cubes of salmon served in a limp laffa with some even limper french fries. Oh well; two out of three ain’t bad.

Time for coffee and dessert. One thing I’ve learned: if you’re ordering a cappuccino or a latte anywhere in The Land, make sure you order it hazak; that way they’ll make it with a double shot (the default setting at Power Coffeeworks), so you’ll at least taste the coffee. Richard doesn’t do coffee, but he does do dessert, as in chocolate covered chocolate cake, whipped cream, and ice cream. With his health issues, he shouldn’t be ingesting all that sugar, so I agreed to pitch in. (I’m good that way.) Barbara Levine took a more modest approach to the subject, a crème brûlée (love those accent marks!). The nice young waitperson was stumped, as in, ma ze?(what’s that?). No problem. We’ll change the language on the menu on our tablet from English and see what it’s actually called in Hebrew. Oh, it’s called crem bruley (קרם ברולה). We showed that to the nice young lady, and she was all smiles.

All the while, the three of us chatted. We’ve maintained phone contact over the months, but the last time our two families face-to-faced was over chol hamoed Sukkot, when The Levines left their suite in our b,b&d and returned to their mountaintop, just in time for that fateful Shabbat and Simchat Torah. Our conversation revolved around the physical ailments of our elderly pets and then switched to news and views about our children and grandchildren.  I love the fact that Maya Levine, aged six, at her elite school in Haifa, (personal interview required for admission) was correcting her teacher’s English. Oh the joys!

Heading home

But there’s only so much time you can dawdle over coffee and dessert. There was a train heading south at about 3:30, and that’s the one I wanted to be on. So we sped back to the train station and parted company, but not before Richard put in their bid for the use of the Levine suite over Pesach. Not only did I have a seat to myself when the train left Karmiel, I might have had the whole car in which to spread out. It’s a long ride back with the same scenery in reverse – except now the sun was starting to set in the west. Hours later, I would be back in Ma’ale Adumim in time for a late dinner. Mission accomplished, I felt rewarded, because – even when clouds are stormy – especially when clouds are stormy – friends help friends get coffee. Especially if it’s the best coffee money can buy.