Yesterday I borrowed my mom’s car (yay! no van!) and ran a few errands. Exciting, no? I picked up Lisa McMann’s FADE, a new journal, a couple things for the dog, but before that I plunged into the grocery store. I’d forgotten what an ordeal that is in the US.
The grocery store in Zihuatanejo is no slouch — it has housewares & clothes just like here — but everything in the US is so much BIGGER. I was in there for twenty minutes before I even got to the food. Since I don’t know where anything is I had to go up and down every aisle, then backtrack when I realized I’d forgotten something.
After another twenty minutes I was operating on autopilot so it was more than a little surprising when my cart came to a screeching stop in the International aisle. More specifically, the Mexican section. (okay, I may have had a little something to do with it.)
A cranky-looking store employee pricing hard taco shells (SO not Mexican…) gave me a strange look as I caressed the refried beans and crouched low to see the green salsas on the bottom shelf. I shuffled around him to explore the hot sauces and chiles, then got a little misty-eyed at the jars of mole and Mexican rice.
I couldn’t drag myself away! I stood there long after the stock boy moved on to the Southwestern section and puzzled over why I’d had that reaction. Could I actually be homesick?