grocery stand and company

There are several alternatives to the local grocery stores here. Like everything in Europe compared to the United States, the stores are smaller to begin with, but smallest of all are little grocery stands. 

These stands are usually run by a foreigner, sometimes have better prices and always have shorter lines-especially handy around 6pm when I'm needing to make a grocery pit-stop, along with every other person in the country.

There's a grocery stand across the bike lane from my bus stop, and like most establishments here, it opens late and closes early. 

(A brief aside to explain bike lanes here. A typical street section includes a sidewalk which steps down to a bike path, protected from cars by a cement/cobblestone divider where bus stops are usually placed, and then sometimes another bike lane and always another sidewalk on the other side of the road. The bike lanes are well used. Copenhageners bike everywhere, even when its 30-something degrees and windy. My best explanation is that cars are outrageously expensive and highly taxed, these people have a conscience regarding the environment, and the city infrastructure actually caters to bikers.)

Anyway, when I'm waiting for the #10 bus around 9:30am, rolling shelves holding boxes of produce are usually clanking down a makeshift ramp from the store's interior to the sidewalk to be displayed until about 5:30 when they trace the same path back inside. 

On my 20 minute bus ride home tonight, I was scheming a pasta sauce and remembered seeing celery when I popped in to this same grocery stand about a week ago, so I went to check. 

While I scan the produce for potential ingredients, a little brown man smiling goofily walks over next to me, giving off the air that he's there to provide assistance. I pick up a little tied bunch of miniature carrots (like nothing I've ever seen before, but very cute) and ask him how much it is. He takes them from me, grinning widely still, and says he'll go inside and ask. I walk in behind him to look for celery there. He returns, tells me the price, and I see a more familiar carrot version that I elect to take instead. He tries to explain the carrot I've decided on is not the same, but I assure him I'm happy with it, sidestepping a conversation I can already tell will be lost in translation. He moves off a few steps while I continue to scan the vegetables, and eventually asks, "Where are your friends?" 

"What do you mean?"

"I saw two little Swedish girls here 

other day who are here studying. They not your friends?"

"I am studying here but I'm not Swedish, I'm from the United States."

(I've had the following conversation about a million times since coming to Copenhagen)

"Aaaaaah the United States! What part?"

"I'm from North Carolina (puzzled look), but I go to school in Pennsylvania...about an hour from Philadelphia and New York City." (His face lights up-that last part always strikes a bell-so I ask him, 

"Have you ever been there?"

"Ah yes! Philadelphia. My uncle lives there and I plan to go visit him soon."

I find out he is from Sri Lanka. "You know where it is?" I assuringly tell him I do, partially unsure whether the question is because he, too has encountered blank looks when he tells people where he's from or if it's because he's assuming I'm an ignorant American. Both are plausible. 

Then the 21 questions. I'm quizzed on how long I've been here for and if I've been in the store before. He says he's surprised he hasn't seen me if I've been here since January and I explain the late opening/getting to class time conflict. He asks what I'm studying and replies, "that's more unusual for woman in architecture" in a gently opinionated manner. 

I smile and say, "Well this is true, but I think it's becoming less so." (I think.)

He offers his help if I ever need anything, he has been living here for three years after all.

I thank him and take the opportunity to ask if he has celery, and he and his colleague go to "check the back" and return a few minutes later to point at a wooden box already in front of me containing something white cabbage-like. I laugh and tell him it's fine and proceed to the cash register. 

Said colleague assumes his post behind the cash register, with a ceramic bowl of some curried Middle-Eastern dish sitting to his left. I point at it and give him the thumbs up. He says something in Danglish (I recognize the word "spille," which means "to eat"). Having also heard my entire previous conversation he says, "So you're American?" and then points at himself and says, "Me too!"

"You're American?"

"Yes! I from Afghanistan! We there call us 'Little America!'"

Not wanting to open that can of worms, I smile, nod, and offer him the 64 kronor. That one will have to wait until next time.

dear STA travel

(For part of my STA World Traveler Application)
and now just as anecdotal writing about my travels:

My number one way to solve problems is by asking other people. I ask strangers when when I'm lost, waiters when I can't decide what to order on the menu, and locals when I'm trying to figure out a good place to (fill in the blank). Primary sources are often far better than maps and guidebooks.

When words are lost in translation, I revert to Pictionary or charades.

I'm a decently well-seasoned traveler, which also means I've made a lot of amateur mistakes.

Several years ago I missed my flight out of Brazil, and since then because I'm so overly cautious about checking dates and departure times I haven't missed another flight (I really hope I didn't just jinx myself), and-bonus! I got to stay in Brazil for another week.

As for Europe:

I've ordered water and learned I have to pay for it. I've learned that "water with gas" is carbonated. I know that "ding ding" means "get out of the way before I run you over on my bike." In every European language.

After sitting in a restaurant for hours, I've realized that patrons must ask for the check in Europe. Restaurants don't slip you a check as soon as you've taken your first bite. They think it's rude, and after realizing this, I think they're right.

I've used my Spanish to speak with Italians, and my two years of Latin to attempt to decipher the words written on churches and monuments across Europe.

Factoid I learned about horseback statues: If the horse statue has one leg raised, the said man was injured in battle. If the horse is on its hind legs, the man died a war hero. Thank you tour guide in Munich for that handy little way to crack the code of statues worldwide.

I'm a collector. Ticket stubs, coasters, receipts, napkins, matchbooks, labels, candy wrappers, free postcards, and anything else of noteworthy memory or interest. (Denmark manages to make both health care and postcards free. Amazing.)

I will walk up a mountain to see the Neuchwanstein castle before I pay for the bus ride. It really does make one appreciate every gold candlestick and granite slab that laborers dragged the whole way.

I've learned to go to dinner early on football (soccer) game nights-both to get the best seats and to beat the crowds to ordering food.

I've made all the mistakes possible when it comes to trains, and learned from each and every one of them.

I know to ALWAYS CARRY YOUR PASSPORT. In Europe, a U.S. Driver's License is about as valid as a peel-n-stick nametag.

I have learned that you can't always count on hostels to provide towels even when they claim on the website that it's included. There are handy little towels from REI (yes, that's a product placement) that can be rung out and dried after each use...after repeated use, smell is an issue though.

I refuse to pay to pee in those bizarre facilities found all over Europe that charge you to relieve yourself.

I have been humbled by a European vegetable scale in a grocery store and many-a-European-keyboard. Both can be more challenging than they appear.

I know how to use a Eurail Pass!

I have learned (from the best, thank you mom) how to pack my life into one backpack or suitcase or whatever a trip may require.

In the end, I've learned all of this knowing that I'll make more mistakes and face more unfamiliar and bizarre situations and emerge unscathed. Part of what I love so much about traveling is that no matter the context there are people to help you find fun, the place you're looking for or, it's so incredibly cheesy but true, yourself.