A funny detail keeps repeating itself on my walks through Merkaz HaCarmel. Karma Restaurant sits there glowing in bright turquoise signage, tables neatly arranged, plants lined up like a polite barrier, and yet… always empty. Not quiet-because-it’s-late empty, but the kind of empty that makes you wonder if you missed a review, a scandal, or maybe a local superstition.
Almost every time I pass, the owner steps out with a hopeful expression and a rehearsed invitation. And every time I politely decline, something strange happens — he shouts at me angrily as if refusing dinner is a personal offense. It’s awkward, a little comedic, and honestly the opposite of motivation to step inside.
Maybe the food is fine, maybe even great — I’ll never know. Because before a fork even touches a plate, hospitality happens at the door. The place may be perpetually empty not because of fate or bad luck, but because karma… well… has a sense of humor.
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