Shopping in Sevilla

Yes, shopping does deserve its own entry – maybe more than one. 

 

No matter the country, I wake up every morning with the same query.  In America, I wonder what to cook for dinner. In Spain, almuerzo is the challenge.  Of course, yesterday’s lunch used up whatever meat the refrigerator held.  We haven’t a veggie in the house. But we have eggs and rice;  therefore,  el menú del día:  Fried Rice.  This brilliant decision reminds me for the 100^th time of the meaning of “staples” and of the wondrous treasure trove that is my Elgin kitchen, stocked with spices, sauces, pasta, and rice; my garden of fresh zucchini, basil, and tomatoes; and my refrigerator/freezer  ridiculously full of cheese, meat, and soup stock.  

On the other hand, just outside my door another treasure trove awaits – a culinary, linguistic, and shopping adventure unlike any I will experience in America.  So, list, shopping bag, and Euros in hand, I venture out with my sticky-note list – hago las compras!  

•  Soy sauce
•   Shower caddy
•   Carrots
•    Ham
•    Tin foil
•     Peas
•     Sewing needle
•     Blue and grey thread

Come on, how hard can that be? 

Fruteria Man

First stop is my favorite: the Fruteria.  The man who works there is starting to forgive me, I think, for touching the produce.  When we first arrived and I found this much-anticipated stall close to our apartment, I immediately acted like an American and picked up a peach – to check for freshness, to smell it, to determine its ripeness – right?  Imagine my surprise when the man behind the counter screeched – “No toca!”  (Don’t touch!).  Seriously?  Repentant, I entered the little store, where he abruptly demanded what I wanted.  Shaking in fear, I asked for three peaches.  Whether I wanted them or not – at that point, peaches I was going to get!  I quickly handed over my Euros and escaped with my little paper cone of peaches, but since that time, I have returned almost daily, and I think the harder I try to understand and function in Spanish, the more he forgives me my American ways.  

Today, I buy four carrots: and try to pay the  55 euro “cents” with 1, 70 Euros.  Bless his little heart, he says, “no,” and then types “,55” into the cash register.  I shuffle my coins – I still have to read each one to know its value – and hand him 70 cents.  He glowers and pushes back the three “pennies.”  Oops.  They are five cents each – not pennies!  Oy vay.  “Lo siento” I mumble, and then, the sun shines through as he asks me how we say it in English.  And I understand him.  And I respond.  And he says, “Bueno.  A luego!” 

 

Supermercado

Next:  In my neighborhood, I haven’t found a real “carneceria” – and when I do, I pray I will have more command of my Spanish as cuts of meat were not part of my Spanish 101 lessons!  So, for the “ham,” I cross the street to the supermercado. Now don’t get your American hearts jumping –  “super” is relative. Our “Super Sol” reminds me of an IGA in Thompson Falls, Montana.  I can probably find ham, tin foil, and peas there.  But soy sauce is doubtful.  Finding ham earns no bonus points in Spain, but deciding among the many Spanish versions of “jamón” requires some guessing.    The peas present a new challenge.  Frozen peas I find – but will they really stay frozen in my dorm-sized fridge?  Not wanting to risk it, I gamble on a tiny can ( the size of a tomato paste can).  I nostalgically remember canned peas from my childhood and hope AJ won’t notice much difference.  The cash register at the supermercado is easy – 3,25.  Now that I know the little ones are 5 cents, I get 100% on that test!   

Soy sauce and shower caddy send me to the “Bazaar Ting Ting” I love this place:  think dollar store. The owners are Asian and seem to understand that I don’t understand.  We don’t speak the same language, but we share the extranjero experience.    A cute orange basket with a hook suffices for the shower caddy, and needles and thread hide near the gift wrap.  But soy sauce eludes me.  Now, I must talk.  Oy.  A big breath. I can do this.  I ask the nice girl for . . . dear lord in heaven . . . another word not covered in Spanish 101.  Soy sauce?????  “Salsa de soy?  Por favor?”  

Bingo! I get a big smile and “Aqui!” as she leads me toward the back of the store.  She rattles off a question to which I promptly answer, “No sé,” hoping she can show me what I don’t gather from her words.  Indeed she can.  She points at one ceramic cruet and one of glass.  No no no.  “I need the sauce,”  I carefully explain with gestures evoking Annie Sullivan and Helen Keller.  By this point, I seem to have lost all ability to speak in Spanish, but my helper has no such difficulty.  I finally try “sauce for fried rice” which seems to get some reaction.  She leads me back to the front of the store and pulls aside a customer to whom she rattles off my request. They consult and smilingly advise me “super Mercado.”

 “ No no no.  No hay en el supermercado!”  

 Having searched that store top to bottom, I know there’s no soy sauce there. I try to remember the word for Chinese, and fail.  But finally, I say something that rings true for the two ladies, and they laugh and shake their heads. I don’t know what I asked for, but apparently it wasn’t soy sauce!  The customer, a well-dressed Sevillian señora, walks me out the front door – I am still holding my unpurchased shower caddy and thread – as she rattles off directions.  Pointing and smiling, she tells me, I think, that there’s another store further down, past the next cross street, that sells soy sauce. Bueno. 

Bazaar with Soy Sauce

I pay and the young clerk and I share a moment – he knows that learning Spanish takes time. They have been here only six years.  I share that I am slow, but I have only been here two weeks.  Walking happily on that common ground, I head down the street and do, in fact, find the little store and the soy sauce. It’s another Bazaar, but this one has more food than the other. 

 

At last, my list accomplished, I head for home feeling just a little bit proud that I passed those trials.  Oops. Forgot the tin foil.  Oh well, tomorrow is another day, another meal, and a new set of shopping challenges!