top of page
147005000_l טאקאימה.jpg
לוגו לבן שקוף.png

A short story about persistence

The rain came, it's cold and wet outside, and it reminded me of a short story from a long time ago.

Many years ago, when I was still young and beautiful, I worked in Japan selling jewelry, at "Basta" - kind of street shop.

We worked in a beautiful town called Takayama. Some call it "mini Kyoto", after its beauty and after the many temples scattered around it.

My partner Udi and I really enjoyed the beauty of the city and the entire area, and every morning we opened the "basta" on a wooden bridge over a stream that flowed in the center of the town, and waited for passers-by. Wait and wait. But only few people passed there. Many times we sat there alone for hours, hoping something would happen. The main sales were in the evening, in the entertainment area, the "Sakaliba". And every day that passed we closed the "basta" a little earlier. Because we thought it was unnecessary. And anyway there is no living soul. And nothing will happen.

One day I convinced Udi to close early and go for a walk in the area, before they reopen the bar in the evening. Udi went to get the car, a 10-minute walk away. In the meantime, I was going to start folding.

As Udi disappeared around the corner, five buses pulled up next to me. From them, dozens of Japanese teenagers raced from Tokyo, on an annual trip. The view didn't really interest them. The "basta" did. They bought immediately, quickly and a lot. In a few minutes I had no jewelry left at all, and I was just standing with piles of "ichimans" - 10,000 yen bills that were then worth $100 each. A "cash" of months.

As they came, so they disappeared, without leaving a dust.

Then Udi came back. He didn't understand why I haven't folded the "basta" yet.

I stood in front of him smiling, waving the pile of bills, and I didn't realize yet that this is how I learned one of the most important lessons in life about the power of persistence. A class I was really close to missing.

bottom of page