I promised to share some stories of what it’s like to adjust to America after living in Grenada for so long. I’ve already had several weird/uncomfortable moments, and I’m only about 4 days in.
So I haven’t done much besides focus on my business since we’ve been home, but I have a rather funny story about our time at the grocery store. Here’s what happened…
I definitely had a minor panic attack. Well, to be fair, it vacillated between panic attack and a bit of maniacal laughter. Someone should have me committed.
All the hubs and I were supposed to do was go to the store to pick up sliced ham and tortilla chips.
We walked down the chip aisle, and the hubs just casually said, “Pick whatever chips you want.”
But, I just couldn’t…
I mean, did you know there are like 15 different kinds of tortilla chips? How are you supposed to pick? Do I want the ones shaped like a scoop or do I want the ones shaped like a triangle? Do I want the ones that have no salt or the ones that do? There were even chips that had the guacamole baked into them! How do you even do that?
For the past two years, having tortilla chips at the grocery store in Grenada made front page Facebook news. If someone said there were chips at the store after a particularly dry period, you got in your car asap and went to get them. There was/is just one kind of tortilla chips in Grenada, and the whole point is to get to the store early enough to get the bag where only half the chips are crushed as opposed to all of them.
After I was near tears over the chips (hormones or just plain crazy? You decide) the hubs and I agreed that chips shaped like a scoop would probably be really good with hummus…
Then we had to find the sliced ham. And we walked all around the store like a bunch of idiots looking for it. I mean, this grocery trip should have taken 5 seconds, and we were already about 30 minutes in after the chip incident. We saw the bakery but no place to get deli meat. After about two more rounds around the store with me clutching the bag of scoops and the hubs stubbornly refusing to ask anyone where the deli was, the hubs noticed all the ham/turkey/etc. was actually on a giant wall behind the bakery.
So, in addition to being crazy, we are apparently blind too.
After exclaiming about how cheap the ham was, the hubs and I giddily ordered a bunch of it.
Then, I saw it: the cutest little pack of ravioli right in front of the deli. I held it up to the hubs like it was a million dollars exclaiming, “Look at this fancy little pack of ravioli!! Isn’t it cute? Isn’t it so nice? It’s all organic and has this nice little package, and it’s only $5! This would cost $30 in Grenada if it ever existed there! OMG, I love fancy little packs of ravioli! Should we get it and make something with it?”
I’m sure everyone around me was looking up the number for the nearest asylum. I was that excited.
Of course, I couldn’t bring myself to actually buy the pack of ravioli. That’s what happens when you are in a state of hysteria, but I sure did admire it and held it for a bit while we waited for the equally cheap sliced ham.
I’m better now, and I guess I’ll just call this round 1 of adjusting to America. I really felt like I wanted to go around the store and shake everyone and say, “Do you KNOW how lucky you are? Did you SEE how much food is here?” But I refrained from going around and shaking everyone because that’s not really allowed here. Still, the hubs and I got in the car afterward and just marveled at the whole thing.
I think it might take a few more days to get over the shock…