Today we pretended to not be tourists. We puttered in the neighbourhood taking in the sites that lend character to the place we now call home. Small observations today but nonetheless things that inspire a pause in that we find ourselves with plenty of time to do so.
People who aren’t tourists do normal things like grocery shopping and cooking. In an attempt to keep the spirits of the kids buoyed despite being removed from all their buddies, I have planned the odd comfort food meals which require a trek to the big grocery store up the hill. With my newly acquired rolly-bag behind me, setting out feels down right cosmopolitan compared to the rural life we left behind.
I’m doing my best to dress like a European (a scarf at all times) but I’m afraid I’m still eating like a North American. Those darn generous and thoughtful relatives who turned our apartment into a warm, inviting home, left little stashes of chocolate in every room! Thank goodness for all the walking….
The walking has its own challenges though. A thrift-shop loving gal like me can get in real trouble here. There appears to be a tradition of leaving previously loved goods out onto the sidewalk for others to discover. Combine this with a fear of becoming poor because we can’t afford the groceries and it is a slippery slope towards hoarding. Add to this my curiosity and continued need to figure out the garbage system I’m sure our neighbours are all worried about the well dressed lady with frizzy hair who keeps peering in the garbage bins. But another bit of success in that department today. I figured out where to put organic garbage so we can now start sorting that too. One step closer to being local!
The system for the community shared laundry still eludes me so that is my task to figure out tomorrow. Considering my children’s new love for making mud pies, this is becoming urgent. These are serious matters people; wish me luck.
Below, a few scenes from today’s wanderings.
Anna pleas don’t stop writing your blog. I kill myself laughing, just reading them.
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