Hello again! In today’s blog, I would like to talk about some of the experiences I’ve had dealing with one of the most daunting tasks of a foreigner: food shopping.

When I first realized how expensive Norway was after purchasing a soda at 7-11 (yes, they have 7-11, no, they don’t have Slurpees) for $4 U.S. dollars, it became clear I wouldn’t be eating out much. This didn’t bother me though. I enjoy cooking and I brought a bunch of recipes for things that I wanted to try to make.

What I didn’t know was that the process of purchasing food was completely different from what we do in America.

I miss Wal-mart. Sure, it’s an evil empire, but I can at least purchase everything from one store. In Norway there are four different grocery stores, and I’m going to explain their value in terms of how they rape your wallet:

There’s Bunnpris (who subtly rapes your wallet; at first it’s inviting and you become friends with it, then it doesn’t leave after the party and…oh god).

Then There’s ICA (who has the decency to slip you a roofie before raping your wallet and when it’s over it tells you “you were asking for it,” but not like this…not like this…).

There’s Rema 1000 (who statutorily rapes your wallet; you know that what you’re doing is wrong, but it’s so cheap and at least it understands what you’re going through).

Lastly, there’s Ultra (who provides “the freshman in college who goes to a frat party” raping of your wallet. When you go there you think, “Wow there are so many things to choose from, I can find everything, I’m having a great time…” but then you feel three guys plowing you and calling you a slut when you go home crying).

All of them have their value, but when you get home you want a shower…a long scalding hot shower with the hope that you can burn off the stains you know are there, but you can’t see.

Even with the dozens of grocery stores in this town, you can’t find a third of the ingredients you need to make the food you want. Well, that’s not completely true, a lot of the things are there, they’re just not in the packaging you expect and are called a completely different name.

Here is a transcript of my trip to ICA when I was purchasing the ingredients to make spaghetti sauce and Meatballs:

Shopping List
- Oregano
- Parsley
- Basil
- 2 cans of crushed tomatoes
- Garlic Powder
- Ground Beef
- Bread Crumbs
- Parmesan Cheese
- Salt & Pepper

(Walks up to clerk in the store)

Me: Excuse me?
Clerk: Yes?
Me: Hi, where can I find your seasonings?
Clerk: I’m sorry?
Me: Seasonings, like, um, Oregano?
Clerk: Ah, right this way.

(clerk directs me to seasonings, pulls out Oregano)
clerk: Here you go.
me: Thanks.

(clerk leaves, as I look through the seasonings I realize that Oregano and Paprika are the only seasonings that have the same names they do in English…fuck)

me: This shouldn’t be too hard, let’s see…basil, where’s basil?
(five minutes later)
me: They, have to have basil.
(five minutes later)
me: FUCKING HORSE SHIT ASS GAHHHHH! Where’s the FUCKING BASIL!?
(five minutes later)
me: (shouting at the ceiling) If you’re there God, or a person with a decent grasp of English, I will suck your dick for some basil, please, I’m begging you!
(five minutes later)
me: You know what? forget it, it’s pointless, I don’t even want basil, all I want is to crawl into my bed and starve like a common gypsy! I hate my life…
(five minutes later)
me: You know what, It’s not that big a deal. Basil is overrated anyway. I can make something else instead, it’s not the end of the worl… oh wait, there is it “Basilika”… god I’m dumb… Now where is parsley…?

(After another hour of me going through 5 runs of the Kubler-Ross model, I went over to the meat section to get ground beef)

Me: Excuse me, I’m looking for ground beef.
Clerk: Find all your seasonings?
Me: How did you know?
Clerk: Everyone in the store can hear you…I’ve never heard a person offer so many sexual services to God before…
Me: What’s between me and God is none of your business (trying to decipher name tag “Tyvgre“) Tireevvvggrr… Douche, do you have ground beef?
Clerk: I don’t know what that is could you explain.
Me: The meat you make hamburgers with.
Clerk: We have hamburgers over there.
Me: Okay, now if I was going to make hamburgers myself, what meat would I use.
Clerk: well you can just buy hamburgers.
Me: I like making them myself, okay?! now where do I find that meat!
Clerk: We have hamburgers over there.
Me: Jesus, I’m trying to make meatballs okay? I just want to find the meat, that’s all!
Clerk: You could make hamburgers instead.
Me: Thanks for your two cents.
Clerk: Actually, if you apply the conversion rate, you should say thanks for your 0.12 kroner.
Me: …
Clerk: … sir?
Me: …
Clerk: sir?
Me: …are you fucking with me?
Clerk: I’m just trying to tell you the convers-
Me: Jesus Christ you’re serious.
Clerk: So you don’t want hamburgers?
Me: One day I will find you…
Clerk: Sir, I should be getting back to…
Me: Let me finish…
Clerk: …yes?
Me: …and I will murder you.

Once I finished staring the clerk down for another 15 minutes, I turned around and saw ground beef behind me. Withholding my desire to beat the store clerk to death with it, I put it in my shopping cart and began searching for crushed tomatoes.

When I mentioned earlier that things aren’t in the same packaging, I wasn’t kidding. Mayonnaise for instance, is in toothpaste tubes (which could lead to the funniest prank known to man). This was the case with crushed tomatoes.

(This is mayonnaise)

Me: Hi, I’m looking for crushed tomatoes, and don’t fucking start with me.
Clerk: Pardon?
Me: Sorry, it’s been a weird hour, do you have crushed tomatoes?
Clerk: I don’t understand.
Me: It’s the stuff you would use to make spaghetti sauce.
Clerk: We have ketchup over there.
Me: …are you starting?
Clerk: I don’t under-
Me: BECAUSE I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU NOT TO DO SO!
Clerk: I don’t know what you want!
Me: Let’s start over.
Clerk: Okay.
Me: Hi, my names Jimmy.
Clerk: My name is *unpronounceable name*
Me: …listen…tex, I’m looking for crushed tomatoes.
Clerk: I don’t know if we have those, but we have tomatoes in the produce section if you want.
Me: Hey, that’s a great idea, do you also have heavy cream and salt?
Clerk: Right over her-
Me: Because i was thinking i should buy some butter, but i could just make it myself like your suggesting! because apparently society hasn’t advanced past 16-fucking-42! ARE YOU SERIOUS!
Clerk: We have tomato paste!
Me: Show me where the tomato paste is!

(I didn’t want tomato paste, but I figured if crushed tomatoes would be anywhere, it would be near the tomato paste)

Clerk: Here it is?
Me: okay, what’s that big juice box looking thing right next to it?
Clerk: Smashed tomatoes.
Me: …
Clerk: Sir?
Me: …
Clerk: Can-can I go?
Me: I think that would be for the best.

(“Smashed Tomatoes”)

The last things I needed to find were bread crumbs. Now, I saved this for last because I thought bread crumbs would be the least of my issues. It turns out I was completely wrong.

Me: Give me some goddamn bread crumbs right now before I murder your dog.
Clerk: I don’t have a dog…
Me: Do you have a child?
Clerk: What were you looking for again?
Me: Bread crumbs.
Clerk: Could you explain it to me?
Me: Sure it’s like crumbs of brea–No, no, I honestly cannot explain it to you in simpler terms, do you have them.
Clerk: Let me ask someone.

The clerk went over to someone else who shrugged with equal confusion, followed by another person who did the same. Eventually I went on my own and searched the aisles at least 20 times over. The clerk came back.

Clerk: Have you found them?
Me: No, but at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if I was staring right at them and not even realizing it.
(I pointed at a box)
Me: What’s that?
Clerk: That’s flour.
Me: What’s that?
Clerk: That’s sugar.
Me: What’s that?
Clerk: That’s raspberry jelly.
Me: What’s that?
Clerk: That’s a mop.
Me: What’s that?
Clerk: That’s bread flakes.
Me:… is it a powder?
Clerk: Yes…sir are you okay?
Me: (sobbing) It’s over…it’s finally over
Clerk: Can I go?
Me: Yes, you’re free.

I came home, happy that I found all the ingredients, upset because I spent so much money, and aroused because all the adrenaline fueling my body at the grocery store needed to go somewhere. Yet, even after spending a good chunk of my day going to the grocery store and making dinner, I still managed to find something to be angry about.

I forgot to buy pasta.

(This picture has nothing to do with the post, but it says farts on it, so we’re posting it.)

Until next time, let Mirth Prevail!

Next week: “How much for a beer? 73 WHATS?”

————–

By Jimmy Mayers, Foreign Correspondent

· Tags: Norway, Phlogging Abroad, rape as an analogy

This entry was posted on Monday, February 8, 2010 at 8:33 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.