Being a Bolognesi
Today I had my first supermarche experience. After going to the local cathedral (right across from IAU) just to check it out I realized that if I don't start making my own lunches I will be broke for sure. So I went to Casino, the local supermarket.
When I got in there I saw the baguettes of course so I grabbed one of those only one euro for a three foot baguette. Then I move onto the meats. I wasn't sure if it was lunch meat or meat that you had to cook, so I asked someone and they just said 'la' which means there or over there so I just bought it. It kind of looked like bacon, you know looked like it needed to be cooked before eaten, but it was just under 3 euros so I bought that too. Then on to the 19 cent 2 liter bottle of purified water and then some milano cookies, because I am creature of habit and mild addiction.
After I picked up the cookies, I heard an old lady say "Si vous plait je besoin un seule" or something like that, my french isn't the best. She needed to buy one carton of milk, not the superfluous other 5 cartons in the six carton case. So in my broken french i helped her out by taking the one milk carton out of the plastic case and giving it to her.
Now I don't know if I pulled a George Banks or not. I think it is generally accepted to take the individual milk out of the plastic container.
While having this mini conversation she told me she liked my accent and asked if I was from Virginia. Ahh I wish. I told her no I am from Chicago -- see I am not from Chi town but if you say Illinois everyone here assumes Chicago. She replied with "Oh Americans are so nice!" Quite the compliment. I replied by saying the french are too and she said, not as nice as the Americans.
I proceeded to the check out line. I found out that I was the last person in line. The cashier told me I was the last and I was to fend off anyone else who thought the line was open. As if foreigners (non-americans) didn't hate Americans enough here I am in 'La Casino' fending off the French men like I am Ricky Bobby at Talladega.
It turns out most, or I should say some, French people bring their own bags, trying to be environmentalists, or maybe save money, because I think bags cost money here but I am not sure. Anyway then I went home.
My host mom assured me that the meat I bought was ok to eat without cooking and now I am here .
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