Blood, sweat, & tears.

*from January 19, 2022

No blood. Very little tears. Definitely sweat... lots of it. My first trip to the grocery store! It's really fine, though.

Before this afternoon I was subsisting off of €0,25 pastelillos (pastries), tapas of I don't know what kind, and the one protein bar I had left over from my transatlantic travels. It is really the conveniently-located-on-every-block-and-super-cheap-but-greatly-varied pastries that have been getting me by. I never really know what I'm eating, but it's hard to go wrong with flour and butter and sugar.

We were talking about my first trip to the grocery store, weren't we? Right.

Mercadona is the leading supermarket chain in Spain, and there 2 locations each about a block and a half from me (and quite a few more here in Alicante). My roommates warned that it is a bit overwhelming on the first trip, but I am fairly convinced if grocery shopping were an Olympic sport, I could probably win the gold for the United States.

Well, queens, this was no Trader Joe's. (That obviously was not what I was expecting, but humor me.) What I mean to say is, I was slightly overconfident in my grocery shopping abilities. I wandered the same 2 aisles for 15 minutes before I put anything into my basket. I then realized that siesta would be commencing in 20 minutes time, and had to get it together, or at least try (yes, siesta is real, and everything closes from some time frame between or all of 2:00pm - 5:00pm). I picked up a random assortment of food items that I can hardly make a meal out of, and called it a day.

The climax really happens right toward the end. (I fancy a lengthy rising action!) I am at the register to check out just in the nick of time and successfully make a few casual exchanges with the cashier while I shove my groceries into the three small reusable bags I brought. I soon realize that I had put my bananas on the bottom of one bag and my bread on the bottom of another bag as I was concentrating more on the conversation I was trying to hold with the cashier. I simply cannot multitask in Spanish yet. So I had to unpack two of the bags before I had even finished getting everything bagged, but I also needed to pay, but there were also two older women behind me in line who did not seem to appreciate that I was impeding on their siesta with my clumsy grocery packing.

I finally successfully paid and repacked my items to prevent bruised bananas and crushed bread only to find out I was one bag short of fitting all my groceries. I open my mouth to begin to ask for a bag, and any knowledge of the Spanish language completely departs from me. The poor cashier looks at me for a moment, clearly unsure of the fact that I can no longer speak neither Spanish nor English, and I can't tell if he is frustrated or just confused... maybe both. I don't blame him. I bite the bullet and decide to carry the extra groceries that won't fit in my meager tote bags, but before I can finish, the kind man at the register opens a plastic grocery bag and begins helping me load it. Again, I can't really tell what he was feeling, but I was definitely on the verge of tears. I was preventing two old seemingly angry ladies from taking their siesta on time for goodness' sake! And I was also tired. And dreading lugging these home.

He winked at me on the way out, reassurance, I think, that he was not bothered by my inability to complete a very elementary activity. I blame it on my wanting to be extra friendly and carry on a little convo with my cashier (that's not very common here--conversations of more than one exchange with service workers are few and far between) which distracted me from my grocery bagging organization. But I guess I am learning, right?

I was sweaty and teary eyed on my way out of Mercadona but feeling triumphant for having made it out alive. I did, however, exit out of a different door I entered. Which I found out a block and half later. Luckily my first guess at recalculating my route was the correct one, and I finally made it back to my apartment after dropping the same bag twice along the way and having to gather myself a few times. I am on the 5th floor of building, so I did have a weighted Stairmaster moment getting to my door, but I counted it my workout for the day and was just relieved to set down my groceries before my threadbare bags busted and remove my Sherpa-lined denim jacket which was layered over my Woolrich camel/alpaca hair and wool blend sweater (a Goodwill find, of course). S-w-e-a-t-y. But (kind of) successful. ¡Salud!

I switched tenses a lot in that story, which is something I do in Spanish a lot, but for the reason that conjugating verbs while speaking is a lot of multitasking for me right now, so hopefully you could follow. If not, that's ok.

Spaniards are so patient and kind and helpful with my Spanglish! They correct me when a better colloquial phrase fits, help me identify what word I am trying to say as I feed them Spanish words probably not the related to the mystery word (and they come through more often than not!), and give recommendations for places to go and see and things to eat. I am so grateful to be here.

I miss my people. And my books. But I have so much to learn and want to savor it all as much I can. The fact that I can be here and do this is such a gift. I hope I never take it for granted.

I have so much more to share and just heaps and heaps of photos, but it is 1:30am my time, and I'm aiming to make it to the train station by 8:00am to make sure I catch the 8:08 train to campus. While I am working on my Spanish, I am also working on my time management;) And sleep schedule? We will see how long that lasts.

Hasta luego,

Cate<3