Montreal, Canada.
We were making our way through the crowded aisles of the supermarket, pausing at the most inconvenient times for other shoppers around us, stopping and staring at the shelves. I apologised to the same lady three times; she was traversing the store in the same direction, and we kept running into her, aisle after aisle.
Karl was laughing at me - my only concrete touristy request was to visit a supermarket here. Apparently it is something that he also does - visiting foreign supermarkets. It seemed vaguely amusing that we should spend half an hour or more slowly making our way through the shop and walking out empty-handed.
The confectionery section was surprisingly short, and there didn't seem to be as many types of biscuits as there ought to be. I built recipes in my head as we walked. Odd that I was thinking so much about culinary pleasures when airplane food had successfully robbed me of a healthy appetite.
And then it was back out into the snow and the cold, but there was plenty of warmth in the early neon evening and the wispy breaths of happy-sad-preoccupied faces in the street.
Posted by sniffles at February 07, 2002 07:13 AM