the How Much Would You Pay? game (travel version)

Sometimes in my mind I play a totally false and unhelpful game called How Much Would I Pay?. Applicable to many circumstances, this game assumes a false sense of commerce in which real money can buy imaginary or perceived things.

A few examples of this game's rounds, past present and theoretical:
*How much would I pay for Jamie to give me the job at camp this summer?

*How much would I pay for the plumbing in our house to work so I could take a shower (a current incarnation of the game, evidenced by the Swiss landlord Mattias standing outside the bathroom wearing elbow-length dish gloves, rubber hipwaders, and a grim expression as he toils over a yard-waste-sized trash can full of grey water and a burned out, oil-spewing sewage pump)?

*How much would I pay to know where I'll be living in Jerusalem and working in Africa?

*How much would I pay to have this person fall in love with me?

This game is of course totally useless but can be an interesting way to distract oneself or try to pretend to have control over circumstances in which one is essentially powerless to effect change. It is often played when traveling and was first made public during my first trip to Israel when I went on Kivunim with Rebecca in 2004.

I had never been to the Middle East before, much less in July, and was overwhelmed by everything: the loud people the cramped spaces the insufferable heat and most of all, the unfamiliar food. Bulgarian cheese? Salad for breakfast? And what is in that cholent, exactly, anyway? With all my heart I longed for a burrito, my second-favorite food of all.

Quickly I learned that there is no Mexican food in Israel. A prominent feature of northern California cuisine, there are taquerias and Mexican restaurants in every San Francisco neighborhood--even Chinatown!--but none at all in Jerusalem. I heard a vague rumor there might be one in Tel Aviv, but no one seemed sure and the risk it would be to spend most of the afternoon and evening going all the way to the shore chasing dreams of a flauta or enchilada that might not even exist seemed too great. So for three weeks I dreamed of the cheesy, salsa-y, savory goodness that comes wrapped in aluminum foil for $3.75 at La Taqueria in the Mission...and slowly we began to play the How Much Would You Pay? game. I first told Rebecca I'd pay $20 for a burrito and by the time we were on the El Al flight back to New York three weeks later the price had gone up to $75...fortunately as soon as I got back home and went to El Balazo on Haight Street the veggie special (deluxe with sour cream and guacamole of course) was its usual $5.50 and I got to save the other $69.50 for a rainy day.

Today as I clean the house for Yom Kippur I am indulging, pre-un-fast, with coffee from Peet's and a corn cherry scone from Cheeseboard (the Berkeley version of Arizmendi from my old neighborhood). I can't help but think that these two luxuries will be the topic of How Much Would I Pay? sometime in the coming months. Marzipan, the bakery in the shuk in Jerusalem, IS second to none when it comes to cheese and potato and cinnamon and chocolate barekas but I am pretty sure there are no brioche knots or corn blueberry muffins to be had on that side of the Mediterranean Sea. For now I will not worry, I will just enjoy the one I have today.