International Foods
My first trip to the Co-op to stock up on the basics – when I am gone, Adventure Man eats out or eats peanut butter and crackers, so the cupboard is bare! He very thoughtfully stocked up on skim milk for me, but beyond that, I am responsible.
I have a small, discreet camera but I wasn’t fast enough this time. One of the store people came over to me.
“Madam, why are you photographing this shelf?”
I told him I have a friend (well, aren’t you my friends?) and we were looking at ways the world is becoming more international.
“Look,” I pointed out to him, “here on this shelf you have Louisiana right next to India!”
I’m not sure he grasped the concept. I know he found it very weird that I was taking a photo of the shelves. Maybe he thought the Co-op had hired a mystery shopper (ho ho ho hohoho) and I was working for Quality Control?
By the way, now that I have started checking all my foods for country of origin, did you know that every can of tuna that we buy in Kuwait comes from Thailand? I have not heard anything about problems with quality control out of Thailand, not the same kinds of problems as with China, but they certainly are packing a LOT of tuna.
Even tuna branded “Americana” – wouldn’t you think a tuna branded Americana would come from America? Wrong! It is also canned in Thailand.
Halal Neighborhood Market
I have never seen this on a truck before. JD’s market is in an area near the local college, near the hub of the bus system, and near a lot of stores people can walk to. It is a neighborhood rich in immigrants, rich in opportunities for work, rich in transportation options – and it just tickles me to see a truck advertising “halal meat” on it.
You hear complaints in Kuwait and Qatar, and most of the Gulf countries, about the Americanization of the world – the supersize-me fast food outlets, the same western stores in every mall, the spread of western – and particularly American – culture.
Look closely. It’s not a one-way street. We are all influencing one another, more than we know.
Cost Cutter
The store I was going to wasn’t open, and I knew we needed a couple groceries, so I headed across the parking lot to the Cost Cutter (yep, it’s raining):
As soon as I got inside, I knew this was not just any old grocery store. The cashiers, the manager and the butchers all looked Mexican! And when I got to the deli section, the specialities were things like Dulce de Leche, all packaged up for people who eat a LOT of dulce de leche:
To my delight, there was an aisle labled Middle East foods, with tabbouleh, canned hummus and muttabel, foul, and Lebanese olive oil:
And a huge aisle with East European foods (I am not sure what East European foods are!)
And, while most stores hide their beer selection in some dark corner of the store, Cost Cutter has a huge aisle down the center of the store, with all kinds of neon signage – it looks very festive:
Stores like Cost Cutter, that serve the large and varied population of immigrants are one of the reasons I love Seattle.
The Lancome Lady
I can get better prices on Lancome products (yep, I am addicted) in Pensacola than I can in Kuwait, Seattle, or even the duty-free, so I stock up while I am here.
On my second trip to the store, not knowing if my stock will last until my next trip to what Mini-R calls PepsiCola, I again bought enough that the saleslady said I could have TWO free sets of the bags and make up samples and I just laughed – like really, how many do I need? How many can I use?
They are always shocked that I would turn down the “free” gift. But packing space and suitcase weight matters more to me than anything free, and also, I hate to waste.
I just laughed.
“What I really need,” I started off, “what would really help me is if you have any small samples I can take with me on the long plane rides, so I can put good cream on my face, not the airplane stuff.”
“Oh! We can do that!” she said, and started opening drawers, pulling things out.
“How about some of this – you bought some of this but here it is in sample form – and this – and you will want to try some of this!” she said triumphantly and handed me about a hundred sample packets.
But she was on a roll.
“And you will need a travel mascara! And how about some suncreen! And you can have some perfume samples, and share them with all your friends!” and a hundred more samples came out of the magical Lancome drawers.
Holy smokes! I can take care of my face, my eyes, and smell good too! Not that I wear perfume in the close confines of an airplane where it could offend the other passengers, but I have a lifetime worth of samples I can use at other times . . .
When I am in Seattle and ask the Lancome ladies for samples, they act very haughty (and I am thinking “excuse me? Who is the customer and who is behind the counter here?”) and usually tell me they don’t give out samples. No wonder I do my Lancome shopping in Pensacola! It’s not just the price, it’s the caring and generous customer service!
“Alien Babies!”
“Whaja think of the storm?” the young man asked me, as he dusted the magazines with a feather duster.
“Oh, wow!” I said. “I thought it would go on forever! How long did it last?”
“I don’t know,” he responded, “but it WAS a long time, and it was right overhead! Hey, this can’t be right. . . it says George Bush is involved in some kind of divorce!” He was dusting one of the tabloids.
“Naaahhh.” I said, waiting for my turn in line. “Sometimes they even write about alien babies being born. You know that can’t be right.”
He stood, transfixed.
“Alien babies?” he half whispered in astonishment. “No! Not really!”
“Yes! really!” I said, “and you know that can’t be true.”
“No!” he said. “No alien babies!” and then under his breath “alien babies!” half in wonder. He followed me around the store, from time to time saying in wonder “alien babies!”
Albertson’s supermarket hires mildly retarded adults to work as baggers and cleaners. These young people are trained to greet the customers, to accompany them to the cars if they have a basket, to unload groceries and generally to make the customer feel welcome.
I always feel welcome. These young people love their jobs, love being a part of the community, and they take great pride in doing their jobs well. God bless Albertsons for this enlightened hiring and training policy.
The Apple Market, Pensacola
The Apple Market isn’t a big chain. You can hardly maneuver in the aisles, they are so close together. They have their own deli, with Boar’s Head meats, they have a big section with deli-made food, made with fresh ingredients, that you can take home and heat – some are already hot! They have rotisseried chickens, they have fresh key lime pies, boutique breads, a whole huge refrigerator full of freshly made salads . . . the Apple Market is my kind of place.
I can’t imagine the odds against the family grocery stores staying in existence against the giants. But I can walk into one of the giants here – Winn Dixie – and walk out without buying a thing, the giant is so tired looking, so sterile, so packaged. What the Apple Market offers is personal service.
When I walk up to the counter with a container of “Mama’s Gumbo” they ask me if I have had it before, and when I say I have, and loved it, they recommend the Shrimp Loxlie, in the same brand, and recommend that I serve it over rice or noodles, to make it go further. I buy some, serve it over angel hair pasta, and it is a gourmet feast. They encourage you to bring your own re-usable bags, or buy one of theirs – they are earth friendly.
You pay a little more. I don’t mind. They buy locally, the produce is always first rate, and they have an amazing variety of goods in a relatively small space. I can always fine something to fix up for dinner there, and I always love the service. Give me The Apple Market over a big box store anyday!
Seafair in Seattle
If you are planning a trip to Seattle, one of the very best times to go, in terms of things to do, is during the Seattle Seafair. Every neighborhood has a parade (The Chinatown Parade – ooops! politically incorrect! The International District Parade is my all time favorite, followed closely by the downtown Seattle Torchlight Parade, held at night), the Blue Angels perform their acrobatics overhead, and the festival ends on a bang – a day long hydroplane race (very very very fast speed-engineered boats) on Lake Washington.
One year, the Torchlight Parade, my Mom’s favorite, fell on her birthday, and we were able to rent a hotel room for the night, right over the street, from which she and Dad could watch the parade. To do so, we had to get on a waiting list, and then to sign a waiver that we understood that the room was just for THIS one night, and that we understood it gave us no rights to that room on any future Torchlight Parade nights. Families in Seattle have standing reservations, year after year, for these precious rooms.
Many people head for the lake for the hydroplane races. My very favorite race, favorite of all, was at my sister’s house, when her husband brought a big TV out to the pool, facing the pool, and we all spent the very hot August day floating on rafts in the cool pool, watching the races. We were SO burned, but oh, what fun.
August is a great month in Seattle, with blue skies and great warm daytime temperatures, cooled by the sea breezes at night. It’s a great time to go to the market (THE Market, the Pike Place Market) and to visit the huge flower farms, the beaches, and beautiful little towns on Puget Sound.
Maxx Adventure
Today, a break. Renovations are going fine, normal setbacks, above normal completion rate. Today, no workmen in the house and I run free, I am celebrating.
And how do I celebrate? Well . . . here I am at Barnes and Noble, where I can buy some wireless time to upload some photos, and oh yes, the new James Lee Burke / Dave Robicheaux novel is out so I had to buy that, too, for the next long plane ride.
Earlier, a trip to TJ Maxx. It is a TJ Maxx Home – I’ve never been in one of those before, and oh! what a thrill. I found a carry-on, just like the one I have only a little bigger and at HALF what I paid for the one I have now, and have loved, and don’t want to part with except that it is splitting in some places where I have had to pack it too full. 😦
And I also found what I was looking for. Remember I told you about the Misto, and told you where you could order one? I found it on the shelf at TJ Maxx, marked WAAAAYYYYY down. I love it. See if you can spot it.
I also thought of you when I saw this sign. Kuwait isn’t the only place with ambiguous, and very funny signage:
What’s in Your Toolbox?
What do you give a young adult, graduating high school, who has just about everything he wants? What do you give him that he doesn’t even know he wants?
It was Christmas, and we were trying to figure out what to give our son. We eventually decided on a tool box, and we had a lot of fun filling it – hammers, fasteners, screw drivers and Phillips screw drivers in various sizes, nails, putty, screws, a level, a measuring tape . . . he like it, but he was a little underwhelmed.
Until he got to college. At the end of the first week, when he called us, we could hear the joyful confidence in his voice.
“Guess what!” he said. It wasn’t really a question, he was going to tell us.
“No-one else has a tool-box here! All the other kids need help putting their bunks together (there was some smart entrepreneur who was marketing loft-like bunk beds and room-customizing kits to all the incoming students, making, I am willing to bet, a fortune) and I’m the one with the tool box!”
We could hear the smile on his face.
And isn’t that life? The more tools you have in your toolbox, the better equipped you are to handle what life throws at you? Even the unexpected – if you have the right tools.
For me, those tools have been varied.
• Reading books has introduced me to new ways of thinking.
• Learning foreign languages gives me different perspectives.
• Living in foreign countries helps conquer ignorant ideas about people of other cultures.
• I can eat a wide variety of cuisines without fear
• I can swim, use a rifle, cook, and speak in public without my voice quavering
• I can laugh. Thanks be to God.
All these tools have been acquired, some, like patience and kindness, at great price.
So what are your tools? What has helped you deal with what life throws your way? What tools have you grown to deal with life’s challenges?
A Day at Home Depot
Those of you who read this blog regularly know I have a thing about hardware stores . . . Lowe’s, Home Depot, Ace . . .I can spend hours.
Right now, however, we are doing some renovations on a Florida house, and oh! I am learning so much. I am learning that the very best contractor can’t guarantee that a project will be brought in during the time he promised, that supply lines get kinked, that when you think you have made a very complicated decision (like what kind of counter top you want) it branches into a whole lot more decisions (electrical outlets, wall treatment, edge treatment, sink choice, faucet choices, hauling away and tearing out of original fixtures, plumbing fixtures. . . ) and oh, my head was swimming. It took two hours just to arrange something I smugly thought I had thought through.
Thank God there are people who know a lot more than I do, and who can make me face the tough questions.
As I was leaving the Home Depot, the skies broke loose and water poured down. I waited at the entrance about half an hour, thinking it would lighten up. When it lightened – a little – I ran to the car, but was totally soaked, shoes, clothing, hair – there wasn’t a try spot on me. And the rain continued to pour down. I thought of how badly Pensacola needs this rain, and how welcome rain is in Kuwait, and Doha, when it comes. I sat in the car another half hour, as the rain was flooding through the parking lot, and you couldn’t see very far.
As I was working with the counter-guy, he asked me how I liked living in Kuwait.
I told him I liked it.
“What are the people like?” he asked.
They are good neighbors,” I replied, “A lot like the people in Pensacola. They are believers. They are kind, and generous in spirit. And Kuwait has it’s own beauty, you just have to open your eyes to seeing things in a different way.”
I didn’t tell him about you, my blogging friends, because I’m not sure he is familiar with blogging. And because even here, I treasure my privacy.
Finally, the rain lightened enough for me to drive, very slowly, home, trying to avoid places in the roads where the drains were stopped up or clogged, and water was a foot deep or so. Made it home safely, al hamdallah!
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