Learn life, go to the Bowl

Before entering the Bowl we had to park the car in a cramped and crowded parking lot. Already it was an exercise in patience and politeness. I have known drivers to take a spot I was waiting for with my blinkers (you know the sign for 'I am going to park here either wait or go around me') right in front of my bewildered eyes... others have brutally honked at me as I was getting my 3 children and my groceries in the car, the process was too slow and too long for the hurried shopper.

Once in the store, the feast for the eyes and the hands that could handle all the wonderful foods made up for anything else or almost...
Our routine was simple; get a baguette and feed the children from it so they were entertained and stayed calm. Then it was the olive sampling... no matter how early in the morning we were there, my kids (especially Mathilde) would eat the olives and ask for more...
Then the aisles took us through the store filling our cart with wonderful foods to finally lead us in the fruits and vegetables area. There the choice is so formidable that I still long for it. Tomatoes come in all shapes and colors, the lettuce goes beyond butter and red leaf to frisée and mâche... everything ever needed to cook is right there at the Berkeley Bowl.
I also remember with fondness all the advice I got about raising a family while I was trapped waiting in the long line at the cash register. That is where I have learned for example that Mathilde's 2 calices were a sign for good luck in China.
Beyond the excitement of finding exactly what the family loves or an unusual ingredient for a recipe, a walk shopping at the Berkeley Bowl is an exercise in civility and courtesy. It is a win-or-lose kind of experience. I have met the strangest kinds of people there and once my encounters led me to a conclusion I still hold about what really goes on at the Bowl.
Let me take you back to our favorite spot... that would be the olive bar. Mathilde is quietly enjoying the taste of the juicy black olives while I am filling up a container (not for her to eat while I shop but to take home, really). Linnea is a new born baby in her car seat and since Mathilde is also sitting in the cart, I literally had a cart full of children. A lady (her cart was touching mine right in front of us) starts yelling "get out of my way." Not only am I shocked to hear such words but also very sleep deprived from nursing a newborn and therefore really slow... I don't move out of harm and danger fast enough for the belligerent shopper who starts ramming my cart with hers... Ah, such aggressiveness and anger left me teary and shaken.
When I reflect on the lady I remember that she was wearing slippers. That detail, unusual enough, coupled with her actions made me think that she might have been mentally handicapped. The crowds that pour in the Berkeley Bowl daily can transform shoppers into impatient and rude specters of themselves. Some though can be completely crazy. Here are my conclusions about the Bowl: I think that there might be a mental institution that sends its patients to Berkeley Bowl. If they shop without being aggressive then it is their ticket into society again. The lady at the olive bar failed miserably that day... but since that experience, every time I have returned I have wondered if the Bowl isn’t actually a test of my sanity. But even if I occasionally failed the test, the produce and olives were worth the trip.