Sol takes us to an Arab cafe that serves falafel, pickles, olives, tomato and cucumber slices, boiled eggs, goat-cheese, and pita with black-bean paste and hummus, and as we finish eating, he beams. "You like this food?
You are now ready for the good Arab coffee?"
He signals the owner without waiting for a response, and the two of them speak loud Arabic while waiters scurry to collect the empty plates.
"He sometimes sails on my yacht with me." Sol nods toward the Arab. "The coffee is the best here. Like the Bedouin coffee you get in the desert. Each Bedouin has his own secret recipe of coffee beans, ginger, cinnamon boiled to the right consistency."
The smiling Arab who sails with Sol returns from the kitchen with a plate of dates and a tray of tiny cups the size of those in a doll tea set.
Sol says, "The Bedouin serves you sweet tea when you come into his tent to show that your coming is sweet. He serves bitter coffee before you leave to show that it is bitter for him to have you go." He deals out the cups. The black-brown liquid has the consistency of paint and tastes like boiled pine bark. A fme grit coats my teeth with the first swallow, and on the fourth mouthful, I reach the sludge. But I manage one more sip.
Sol is savoring his coffee. "Good, yes?" But fortunately he turns to Elizabeth and James before I have to answer. "And you are both teachers? My degree in archeology-how do you say in English-qualifies me to teach, but conducting the tours pays more, so I do that for thirty years. It is the only way to get the yacht and the good watch."
"Teaching is hard and underpaid all right," James agrees.
"And half the children we get aren't teachable," Elizabeth says.
I haven't mentioned that I'm a professor, but I can't let that pass, and I take a breath. But Sol frowns and says before I can open my mouth, "That is not true. Sometimes damage keeps the child from learning. But 90% of all children can be taught."
I look at him. "You're including Arab children in that 90%?"
He takes a date, and I notice that his eyes are the same shade of glossy brown.
"Of course the Arab children," he says.
