One of the perks of my new lifestyle is the lack of corporate presence in Rome. Produce is purchased from stands on the corner and each Tabacchi (convenience store) is individually owned. Shopping seems like more of a human experience, but with that comes ever-present human suffering. Because businesses are small and family owned, it can be difficult to find what might seem to be a simple item. Exhibit A: Flash cards. I’m a visual learner, and the textile, interactive appeal of flash cards really helps me with memorization. Seeing as I currently lack the ability to communicate with anyone and everyone native to this place, flash cards would seem a worthwhile investment.
I asked my Italian professor how to say “flash cards” in Italian. No such word exists. And apparently for good reason. After scouring the shelves of every bookstore, stationary shop, Tabacchi, and China Store (more on that later), I’ve accepted that I’ll have to discover a new way of learning. Flash Cards aren’t a thing.
The China Store is one that my program’s staff pointed out to us in broken English. It literally is a store run by Chinese people. Political incorrectness aside, the China Store is great for most of the random items one might need in Rome.
But still, I was beginning to miss the simple luxury of having the ability to access any food items I wanted at any time I wanted to.
Today, my roommates and I decided to follow the advice of our advisors. They informed us of an IKEA, where we could buy bowls for the apartment (apparently they weren’t included in the “equipped” kitchen). It happened to be located in a shopping center, so we took the bus to the outskirts of Rome. The setting changed from cramped, vibrant buildings to large apartments scattered amongst a wasteland. At the end of the line, we hopped off, along with all of the other eager shoppers. Entering the mall, our eyes opened wide. I locked in on a Quicksilver, and then a food court, and next thing I knew I was standing in the doorway of a massive super store a la WalMart. None of these things usually excite me in the least, but I felt a strange sense of relief and comfort in my familiar surroundings. This gigantic oasis of consumer goods brought a smile to my face, and we immediately grabbed a cart. I took care of the essentials (minus the flash cards), but not without the expected confusion that comes with every activity here in Rome.
First on my list was fresh turkey, since the store near me sells three slices for 4 euro. At the deli counter, I said, “Vorre mezza chilo di turchia.” Proud of my bilingual accomplishment, I didn’t pay any attention as the woman sliced me nine euro’s worth of turkey. Looks like I’ll be opting for a quarter pound next time. Trouble is, I only know how to say half. I wonder if “un mezza di mezza” would translate appropriately! Looks like it’s turkey for lunch and turkey for dinner this week!
Peanut butter: a staple in my diet. I’ll eat it on toast, bananas, sandwiches, a spoon…the list goes on. As Matt advised before my departure, peanut butter is not something Europeans often eat. But Wallah Martey was sure to have it! I searched and searched and eventually asked “Vorre burro di arachidi,” which my roommate had conveniently written down on a postit note earlier. After correcting my pronunciation, the man proceeded to babble off directions at superspeed. Each time I ask for directions, I forget that the response will mean absolutely nothing to me. He passed me off to another clerk, who then turned me over to another. Eventually, I got my hands on the last jar of peanut butter. It was Skippy brand and it was refrigerated. Interesting choice, Wallah Martey, interesting choice.
Among the frozen peas and bulk raw chicken were some other great findings. Namely, Bonne Maman, a French jam that costs about seven bucks in the states. It’s my favorite, pretentious or not. Smuckers just isn’t my jive! In Italy though, Bonne Maman only costs two euro for double the portion in the states! I am a happy girl. Since the fruit types are in Italian, I had to reference the other jams with pictures on them to learn the word for blueberry. Lo and behold, my PB&Js will be fancy and cheap!
One euro wine was too good to be true. We drank our first twist off bottle tonight, and it was worse than three-buck chuck. Reguardless, it was accompanied by fresh gnocchi with pesto and sautéed mushrooms and garlic. I think I’m learning how to cook for myself on the daily, and have finally stocked up on the necessities I need to not repeat this morning’s breakfast of cherry tomatoes and a Baby Bell cheese.
Tomorrow’s my first day of classes! Until now, I’ve been living the good life, but it’s time to hit the books. Where am I supposed to buy those again?
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