In December of 2003, I came back to the US from Rwanda after 13 months. Just for a few weeks. My sister and I went to a W@lgreens with my camera's memory cards, and I printed hundreds of pictures. It took a long time. It took hours. During these hours, A. and I wandered around the store, contemplating purchasing... something. Some sort of snack. Except that I couldn't handle it. There were just too many options. I walked back and forth along the snack aisle, just staring. And I didn't buy anything.
This is a problem I normally have only for a few days after I come back from Africa, although it was somewhat exacerbated on return from Liberia and South Sudan, which are virtually completely lacking in amenities like, oh, supermarkets. Liberia has grocery stores but no supermarkets and South Sudan has, um, hole-in-the-wall dukas. Nada mas. (When I worked in Rwanda, one of my colleagues working in Mali came to Nairobi for a meeting and went positively nuts at the supermarkets. "There is nothing like this in West Africa!" she kept saying, "Not even in Dakar!" as she bought more and more to carry back with her on the plane. I keep wondering about Lagos, though. Surely there are supermarkets in Lagos. Also, this was five years ago.)
Anyway, I can handle drugstores now. Also supermarkets. I march on through and buy salad dressing and toothpaste and my favorite cheese. The only time it gets to me is when I try to buy a snack. Even gas/petrol stations overwhelm me when it comes to snacks. I cannot buy snacks. I cannot buy chips/crisps. I cannot buy candy bars. I cannot buy cookies/biscuits. I just can't do it. I wander down the aisle, and then back, and then I leave with nothing because there are just too many possibilities. I did it again today.
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Speaking of language idiosyncrasies (note use of multiple possible words up there) and how my brain is confused, here is something that happened to me a while ago:
Me: Can I have some of your chips?
Friend: Only if you call them fries.
Me: ... [thinking] ... Oh, right. Can I have some of your fries?
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Quote of the day today: "Community living is only okay if everyone is smoking the ganja every day."
(ID of quoted person withheld by request)
This is a problem I normally have only for a few days after I come back from Africa, although it was somewhat exacerbated on return from Liberia and South Sudan, which are virtually completely lacking in amenities like, oh, supermarkets. Liberia has grocery stores but no supermarkets and South Sudan has, um, hole-in-the-wall dukas. Nada mas. (When I worked in Rwanda, one of my colleagues working in Mali came to Nairobi for a meeting and went positively nuts at the supermarkets. "There is nothing like this in West Africa!" she kept saying, "Not even in Dakar!" as she bought more and more to carry back with her on the plane. I keep wondering about Lagos, though. Surely there are supermarkets in Lagos. Also, this was five years ago.)
Anyway, I can handle drugstores now. Also supermarkets. I march on through and buy salad dressing and toothpaste and my favorite cheese. The only time it gets to me is when I try to buy a snack. Even gas/petrol stations overwhelm me when it comes to snacks. I cannot buy snacks. I cannot buy chips/crisps. I cannot buy candy bars. I cannot buy cookies/biscuits. I just can't do it. I wander down the aisle, and then back, and then I leave with nothing because there are just too many possibilities. I did it again today.
---
Speaking of language idiosyncrasies (note use of multiple possible words up there) and how my brain is confused, here is something that happened to me a while ago:
Me: Can I have some of your chips?
Friend: Only if you call them fries.
Me: ... [thinking] ... Oh, right. Can I have some of your fries?
---
Quote of the day today: "Community living is only okay if everyone is smoking the ganja every day."
(ID of quoted person withheld by request)
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