A leap into the supermarket

by Lola Gaëtano (Ireland)

A leap into the unknown Canada

I have an irrational fear of supermarkets. Ever since I became an adult they make me feel very uncomfortable. The wandering around the aisles, facing fifty different variations of the same product, the bouncing between the people who seem to know too well what they are doing and the ones who are walking at the pace of a tourist seeing the Eiffel tower for the first time, the sharp neon lights, the radio in the background playing all the excruciating charts: all of this give me crippling anxiety. The supermarket is however - and I have to admit - a special place which never changes in essence. It is where one goes to purchase goods, primarily food in order to feed oneself. It is also the last place where I expected to feel like a total stranger when I visited Canada. Born and raised in Europe, there is a lot to say about the feelings you get when you find yourself on the other side of the ocean for the first time. How far, how big, how infinite everything suddenly appears. I felt at times that I would even have to learn how to walk again, what to do with all this space, surrounded by the trees and the mountains. I was staying in the suburbs of Vancouver, somewhere on the South side. It was summer and the heat was made worse by the huge roads of endless concrete enveloping the block. I took the only dress I had the presence of mind to pack out of my orange suitcase and got to the door. I remember, I started my supermarket ritual the way I would do anywhere else, traveling or not. I took a deep breath, put my headphones on and started visualising in my mind what items I needed to buy. Usually, I also picture the design of the supermarket if I know it, in order to prepare the ‘route’ I will follow. I obviously couldn’t do that this time, so I focused on my mental list while keeping an eye on my GPS. In Canada, all the items which can be found in a supermarket have their label both in French and English, even in British Columbia where French would not be used on a daily basis. Being bilingual, this was a nice and funny surprise. Being severely allergic to fish and nuts, it was incredibly useful too. However, it did not compensate for the unsettling feeling of unknown that I got within seconds of commencing my food shopping. It started with how things were organised, despite the ‘themes’ of the aisles being indicated on various panels coming from the ceiling, I could not orientate myself properly in this new space. I gradually realised that the type of food available was completely different from what I was used to or worse, the type of food I was used to was hidden in different containers, as if it was disguised into something else. It had different names, different colour codes, different prices. What was normally a basic affordable item seemed suddenly to be a luxury, and vice-versa. From the way the entrance was organised with various counters and kiosks, forcing me to slalom like a professional skier, to the tills at the end where I had to contain a gasp of surprise discovering that the prices on the shelves were not including tax, I was completely and utterly disoriented. Of course, this wasn’t my first time, I had been to supermarkets abroad before. Some that were much smaller, hardly bigger than a cabin. Or some where I could not fathom what food was being sold. Yet, this one was different, precisely because it was so similar to the ones that I had at home. It looked the same, it smelled the same, it used the two languages I mastered but I did not understand it. I was ironically so immersed in the unknown, and the feeling was so exhilarating that, as I was carefully putting my box of mac and cheese in my reusable bag, I realised this time I was not anxious or afraid at all.