And then they were gone...

I was walking home through the shuk - packed to the gills with people because it's Thursday evening. I stopped off at a flower booth to see if they had the flowers I wanted. (They didn't.) 

As I was walking away, this Russian man stopped me and tried to speak to me in Russian... as you do. He was kindly, and kept insisting I take some really gorgeous pink roses. The vendor said, He wants to buy them for you. I said - very definitively - Thanks, but I really can't take them. 

The Russian man insisted. 

I insisted. 

The Russian man insisted all the more emphatically. The vendor joined in and pressured me to accept.

Not wanting to offend, I took them and thanked him.

I walked away with the roses thinking: I'm carrying roses I didn't want, but I did what my mom trained me to do (graciously accept unwanted gifts). Plus, I could always give them to her.

Next thing you know, I hear someone call out "Gveret! Gveret! (Ma'am! Ma'am!)". It was the vendor, running down a very heavily populated Agrippas street sidewalk like his life depended upon catching me. 

"He's crazy, he has no money. I'm sorry, I need to take back the flowers."

And just like that... they were gone.