Creature of Habit

I love being a regular, and I hate change. If you know anything about me and my perennially-nomadic nature, you will understand why this is probably one of my weirder statements. But both parts of the statement are truer than anything I may ever say in the past or future.

I cry every time I have to change an e-mail address or phone number (I still haven't learned my new home phone number in the US), every time I get on a bus or train or plane to leave one place for another, every time I have to say goodbye to another close friend who is embarking on their own far-off adventure (or if I am leaving for one of my own).

Even if only by face and not by name, I love knowing people at a restaurant, grocery store, or bar, and having them recognize me. The seeds of this love were most likely planted upon living in the same place for eighteen years and going to the same grocery store and synagogue every few days, where even if people did not know my name and I did not necessarily know theirs, we still had that connection of familiarity to one another.

Everywhere I have lived since then, I have been a regular somewhere. During my first year in Montreal, I was a regular at one on-campus lunch venue, thanks to my meal plan and lack of kitchen. I, along with a few friends, became a Tuesday regular at Frostbite, the small ice cream parlor in the Engineering building at McGill, but also went whenever ice cream was necessary in my life. For the rest of my tenure in the area I was a regular at Quatre Freres, a 24-hour grocery store, which I visited at all times of day and night, and at Pizza Madona, a tiny poutine and pizza place five minutes away from my apartment. I still visit both places whenever I am in Montreal. Every time I return to Pizza Madona after being away for a substantial period of time, the owner asks where I have been, and we chat for a few minutes.

In Ramla I was a regular at a shawarma restaurant. They knew my exact order (minus the toppings, which I would change frequently). There I knew who would be the most friendly at what time, and who would joke around with me, and who would brush me off as someone not worth their time, and it was magical. In Ganey Aviv, there was one supermarket I would go to during and after school. The woman at the cheese counter knew not to speak Russian to me, and I was forever grateful.

One of my favorite moments in Philadelphia occurred last summer (potentially during Passover instead--I forget the exact details, but it was most likely summer). I had turned 21 a few months prior while still in Montreal, and I went to a pizza/cheesesteak hole-in-the-wall that I enjoy. I decided to buy my first legal drink in the US while there. After selecting the most interesting-looking beer, I brought it to the register. A man I did not recognize was there (a few of the others knew me as "the girl who comes in asking for cheese fries with gravy"), and he asked me for identification, which I had with me and willingly provided. One of the guys who did know me was behind him in the kitchen and said something along the lines of, "What are you doing? We know this girl. Let it go." It still makes me wonder how long I could have been buying beer there before being legal.

Philadelphia also has one grocery store by my house where there is again the priceless name-anonymity factor, but the cashiers are the sweetest women and there are consistent smiles all-around.

Here in Taichung I am a regular at the grocery store, because they have fruit and pre-made meals, and I don't have a real kitchen. I keep realizing that all of the restaurants have better food and prices than the grocery store, and have therefore been branching out a lot recently. I have decided to become a regular at the hibachi place I went to at the end of my first week of school. I can get a scrumptious beef hibachi meal with endless soup and tea for $110NT (~$4 USD), and the meal itself I can easily split into two or three parts--it doesn't seem this way, but it is a lot of food. Plus the people are great, and I can go there to read or work, and drink my soup, and not worry about anything.

I love being a regular, and I hate change. But change doesn't have to mean loss, only new beginnings. (Oh god, that was far too cheesy. But it stays.)