Thoughts in the supermarket at 19.30

This is a post in English as I thought it might be shared with some friends that do not speak Romanian (i.e. they are not Romanians).

It is an eerie feeling walking on the streets and suddenly turning my head to look strangers straight in the eye just because I hear them speak Romanian. But it is something that I can hardly control. I must get used to hearing my mother tongue and not try to identify the 'source' emitting the sounds...:)


Once upon a time...there was a supermarket by the train station. A supermarket I rarely got to see on the inside as it closes at eight. One of the stores that actually keeps open the most in this capital.
I am always amazed of the people one can meet there. There are of course your average Romanians working for the EU various institutions. You can easily recognize them: the alpha male and the ovedressed woman, wearing evening make up with jeans and gucci (might even be the real thing for all I know:) ). Then, there are the people living in my neighbourhood really. The portuguese, italians and (some) spanish filling the gap for the unqualified positions. (For example, all the Italians working in constructions in the building I was working in in the last 2 months must be italians). All the cleaning ladies are portuguese ...but there are some for whom I cannot really distinguish the nationality. Men gathering leaves in the park: a group of portuguese here, a few steps further the loud italians, and then last but not least the Romanians greeting me in Romanian with the nice things men on the street usually utter to women. But I am a Lady:), I never tell I know something if it can be embarassing for the other party. I burst into laughter the minute they can no longer hear me. So if you come across a crazy woman in the park laughing to herself, it's me:).

Then, there are of course the French. They speak sooo much. I have never thought I can meet people that speak more than the Romanians. But here we go:)...

Anyway, the thoughts from the supermarket have nothing to do with the actual differences that you can easily notice at the first glance. They have everything to do with the similarities. People that cannot go earlier to get food (because they would, if they could, as simon and garfunkel would put it:), I believe nobody is interested in being in the shops at the busiest hour) are all together before eight o'clock.

A man with a heavy backpack and a suitcase (not unlike our 'audit bags'). Has ketchup and a quarter of coke, a baguette and a pack of six beers. I look at the suitcase, smaller than hours, with the airport sign attached. He seems tired, keeps sighing.

The group of kids, all wth snaks and chocolate.

The woman with the salad and bio food.

The lady at the counter, not thinking while she passes everything through.

We are what we eat, they say. Our essence, our physical being is the mere product of all the things we decide to purchase at a glance just before the store closes. In a rush, always running from bus to bus, to train, to airplane.

Me, having time to see the few outlined detailes above just because I was in the queue, otherwise, I also go with the flow, I'm in a rush, I choose hastily, I make way towards the counter, I don't have time, who are these people, where is my life going?..

I get out, relieved. I mustn't think that much while going shopping. Oh...it's already dark. When did it get dark already? I wonder where all those people go, what are their stories, why are they in a hurry?

Is it possible to actually find a meaning in the simple gesture of picking something from the shelf? What are people thinking? Why do we do this?

(to be continued- or not)

Ps: I got chocolate and meat:)