I have been spending in INORDINATE amount of time pondering food as of late. What to eat? When to go to the grocery store - to the local fruit stand or the the other store? Which is cheaper - how long does this food last. And always - why the hell do things come in such small packages? What am I supposed to do with six little slices of chicken? Danish grocery stores are madhouses... from my perspective. I'm sure they're lovely places if you're used to them. I walk in and there's one direction you can go, usually through randomly assorted vegetables with little islands of produce in the middle of things... then there is only one way to keep going and I can't really tell where I am - there are never any signs and the aisles are super narrow. Eventually there are a couple options, but if I take the wrong one I end up at the check out without having passed by the things I wanted to get so I meander back again.
It's hard to even articulate how the food is different because it isn't, wildly so. It's more the culture of consumption and preparation surrounding the food that is different. At home I would shop about once a week and get bigger portions of things. Here people shop about every other day, often just to get the food they'll be using right away. It requires a different sort of planning. Food doesn't last as long here - partly I'm sure because there are fewer preservatives, but also because of what is offered: more raw food, less canned/stored things. And, of course, fewer options. The other major difference is how damn expensive everything is. I find myself simply not buying enough food because I'm intimidated by the prices... but then of course I have to come back again before too long.
The final bit is how embarrassed and disempowered I feel in grocery stores. Seriously, I'm not exaggerating. For me, cooking and feeding people is central to feeling like an adult - to feeling mature and in control of my life. I am always very quiet, head down when shopping. Without really thinking, I automatically try to not stand out, to not make any trouble because it's easy enough if I hardly speak and keep my head down. That's not me though - I like joking with the check-out kid and commenting on the produce with fellow shoppers. The thing is, I don't feel bad using English with my Danish friends because we're just people who know each other well and are communicating the best way we can. But I hate, absolutely hate using English in the public sphere. When I do I feel some combination of immature, disrespectful, and disappointed in myself.
Here's the funny thing - these aren't things I ever felt/considered when I was living in Thailand of India. The difference is, largely, that I am trying to integrate here and that was never a goal when I was on my year-off. No matter what I am was never going to blend in or be accepted as Indian. And even if I could, I was only there for five months - which is long enough to establish routines and familiarize yourself with a place, but not long enough to feel like a permanent move.The differences and many miscommunications there were usually simply hilarious or fascinating. Here I am a bit harder on myself... probably because, as I've recently realized, I'm trying to integrate. Which means that messing up isn't routinely as funny or ridiculous. I'm trying to lighten up - to first at least be aware of how I'm thinking about myself, treating myself.
I've talked to a bunch of my Danish friends about this - food angst. They're so kind! Sara invited me to cook with her once a week and Sørine had me over for dinner. Thomas and I examined has fridge for a while, talked about his buying habits, and discussed what he found strange when he lived in the US for a while. I mean - I'M FINE. This isn't a crisis or anything. Really I think it's just a fascinating microcosm of the integration process - the ways that very material practical things become psychological quite easily.
It's hard to even articulate how the food is different because it isn't, wildly so. It's more the culture of consumption and preparation surrounding the food that is different. At home I would shop about once a week and get bigger portions of things. Here people shop about every other day, often just to get the food they'll be using right away. It requires a different sort of planning. Food doesn't last as long here - partly I'm sure because there are fewer preservatives, but also because of what is offered: more raw food, less canned/stored things. And, of course, fewer options. The other major difference is how damn expensive everything is. I find myself simply not buying enough food because I'm intimidated by the prices... but then of course I have to come back again before too long.
The final bit is how embarrassed and disempowered I feel in grocery stores. Seriously, I'm not exaggerating. For me, cooking and feeding people is central to feeling like an adult - to feeling mature and in control of my life. I am always very quiet, head down when shopping. Without really thinking, I automatically try to not stand out, to not make any trouble because it's easy enough if I hardly speak and keep my head down. That's not me though - I like joking with the check-out kid and commenting on the produce with fellow shoppers. The thing is, I don't feel bad using English with my Danish friends because we're just people who know each other well and are communicating the best way we can. But I hate, absolutely hate using English in the public sphere. When I do I feel some combination of immature, disrespectful, and disappointed in myself.
Here's the funny thing - these aren't things I ever felt/considered when I was living in Thailand of India. The difference is, largely, that I am trying to integrate here and that was never a goal when I was on my year-off. No matter what I am was never going to blend in or be accepted as Indian. And even if I could, I was only there for five months - which is long enough to establish routines and familiarize yourself with a place, but not long enough to feel like a permanent move.The differences and many miscommunications there were usually simply hilarious or fascinating. Here I am a bit harder on myself... probably because, as I've recently realized, I'm trying to integrate. Which means that messing up isn't routinely as funny or ridiculous. I'm trying to lighten up - to first at least be aware of how I'm thinking about myself, treating myself.
I've talked to a bunch of my Danish friends about this - food angst. They're so kind! Sara invited me to cook with her once a week and Sørine had me over for dinner. Thomas and I examined has fridge for a while, talked about his buying habits, and discussed what he found strange when he lived in the US for a while. I mean - I'M FINE. This isn't a crisis or anything. Really I think it's just a fascinating microcosm of the integration process - the ways that very material practical things become psychological quite easily.
