Looking past the sarcasm, food shopping is actually one of the most stressful things I've ever done. I try to prepare for my trips by translating all the ingredient names I need if I don't already know them. When I get to the aisle I need I am very excited to be a real adult and buy grown-up foodstuffs like basil and rolled oats and chicken breasts! I know it will go smoothly because I brought my shopping list, in Hungarian, like a good girl. Unfortunately, SPAR doesn't get the memos about my preparedness and stocks food from everywhere except Hungary. So far I have seen German, English, Romanian, Ukrainian, and Polish. Realistically there are probably more languages on the packages, since every one has three sets of directions, but I am not a linguist. If the packages aren't in a language I know and they don't have pictures, I just guess. It's an adventure! If you thought you could get away from mystery meat by escaping your cafeteria to Europe, you thought wrong.
After I have an armload of what I hope is cookie ingredients, I head to the check out. (Side note: it's worth noting here that I usually stop by the store after school. Debrecen is small, but I should never have underestimated rush hour) There are lots of nice people here, and I usually end up in line with some of them. Sometimes they're just trying to kill time with conversation while the dude at the front waits for his farm's worth of produce to be manually entered into the system. Other times it's a little old lady who understands that you speak broken Hungarian but it's okay because she's mainly interested in telling you the sale prices of every individual carton of sour cream she bought. It's a little stressful to talk to these old ladies because I know somewhere in the back of my mind that all they're saying is prices, but I can't help but doubt my understanding of the language because I struggle to understand the merits of being a human newspaper ad.
Once I make it to the front, the cashier is understandably frazzled because she's dealing with the same junk I am only she has to be efficient and pleasant during it. I can pay without a hitch usually, but for some reason I always get asked for exact change to make giving me money back easier. I get this eventually, but only after I get the 'ugh Americans' eye roll. Then, since you've gotten your money back and the next customer needs to pay, it's a mad scramble to shove your change into your wallet, wisk your products away to a counter awkwardly where you can put them in bags, and get organized.
Throughout all of this I'm usually carrying a school bag, wearing a coat, and holding a basket laden with food, so I'm quite a cumbersome individual. If you add this to me stress sweating and the stiff kind of frozen posture I get when I'm anxious, I usually also get asked if I'm feeling alright. It's kind of embarrassing. But, so worth it when dinner/dessert is done.
(Sorry for any typos or errors, I wrote this on my phone on the train 😄)
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