Grocery Shopping Abroad

When I travel to a new place on holiday, I often like to fancy that I’m staying there as opposed to just travelling through. The thing that helps me to get into living-there fantasy is to walk down to a grocery shop near where I stay and buy groceries. Behind the wheels of a shopping cart, I can pretend I’m a local, i.e. anyone from here, i.e. anyone in the know to buy sensibly and not get fleeced like the ignorant tourists.

The important thing is that the buying must be for something I will need to use immediately and not just shopping-for-back-home. Usually it’s for things that go into or along with a sandwich – bread, cheese, maybe a bit of meat or some local fruit. Of course, there is nothing like buying cleaning material – nothing that quite as well cements the fact that you are putting down some roots, however small. But, well, if I’m staying at a hotel it’s quite unlikely that I will need to get those.

It isn’t that I don’t like to eat at restaurants, not at all. I usually plan my holidays around where and what we will eat. It’s this fact that dictates that I often need to eat one meal light for the sake of my stomach and also my pocket. So having my own stash of groceries in the car or hotel fridge makes helps me feel more settled.

And then there is the sheer joy of grocery shopping. Even under normal circumstances, I love scouting about the racks for my everyday at-home grocery getting. But when abroad, this takes on even more delicious intensity. I am an explorer amongst row after row of less familiar brand names, fruit and dairy products. Thrilling at every discovery of stuff I’ve only ever seen on TV or read about in books. Or even better, finding familiar brands that cost 10 times more back home. I spend wistful minutes in the exotic (but local for there, you see) spice aisle, while putting together earthy pot roasts, hearth warming stews and such in my head. They always turn out fragrantly delicious and my friends and family have tears in their eyes at my nourishing brilliance. Fortunately, I don’t have a kitchen right there or the time when I’m back home, to see these dreams come crashing down to earth. I blink and move on. Onward to the ready-to-eat sections where I can appease my gatherer instincts. Happy minutes at the yoghurt aisle, looking through the different flavours, ditto for the Crisps and Beverages and Instant Soup . Flavours I’ve never imagined, and they must all be tried!

Naturally, every so often, amidst the entire delightful discovery there is also the occasional revolting mistake. But that’s what hotel bins are made for. And then there are times like when we bought a piece of wrapped up durian and left it for over an hour in a parked car! a bad disaster like that could even call for buying cleaning material…and I’m back in my imagined paradise.

There is, of course, the ultimate reward to all my shenanigans at the grocery shop. Later, at some ancient fort miles in the country I can gloat silently at the persecuted tourists who are milling about the only (and expensive) food stall eating fried dangly bits of heaven knows while we dig in to all our lovely food. In truth, this hasn't happened yet, but sooner or later it will and when it does I will be prepared.

By,
Nafisa