Au Hypermarché

I asked ma papa to take me to the supermarket after he dropped Louise off to afternoon school (children go home for an hour or so for lunch at noon.) I figured it's a nice day, I'll walk back and explore the town on my way home. From the outside, Cora, our supermarket, looks like a drab warehouse of some sort. As you walk in, to the right is a small food court. The food displayed looked old and incredibly unappetizing! My first impression was it's more like a department store with produce and grocery. Imagine Best Buy, tossed with a little of Barnes & Noble, mashed with your neighborhood grocery store (like Raley's or Ralphs, for example) and a touch of Walmart and voila! You get Cora...

Grocery stores are my favorite places. However, les marchés en France - not so much. The monstrosity that is, Cora, left me with no desire to look up and down every aisle as I usually do in a new store. As I heard before my trip, peanut butter is a rare commodity (more like, non-existent is France), but I still found it odd when I walked down an aisle of jams and preserves and didn't see it's sidekick, Mr. PB ;( Luckily, I brought along some PB2, as recommended by Dr. Oz. It's half the sodium and barely any fat,  I highly recommend it!

When I was at the checkout, I thought my lack of French wouldn't matter too much because it would be a short & sweet transaction. However, I mistakenly forgot to weigh my fruit and the cashier told me (in French) to go back and weigh them. After the third repetition, I understood her. [David Lebovitz, Chef Pâtissier, blogger and author of "My Sweet Life in Paris," said in his book (and I'm paraphrasing) that there is no such thing as customer service in France. Everyone in retail would much rather be on their phones, enjoy a cigarette or not be bothered by customers.] Working in retail, and more specifically, in grocery retail, I would have rung myself up and moved onto the next customer. But no, the cashier just sat in her chair and waited as I hesitantly ran back towards the fruit. As I was running away, I was amazed at how the couple behind me just stood there. So that's how it works around here. In retail, (for lack of a better phrase) the folks here could care less about the customer. Definitely won't be getting any "WOW" experiences here when I shop. Before I left, I grabbed a plastic bag, and the cashier stopped me, "Trois cents." That is one thing I hope we catch onto in America, charging for plastic bags. I like how the French think green!

As soon as I left, Cora, it was grey and gloomy outside, but no rain (or at least not yet.) If I had any brains, I would turn around and go buy an umbrella, but my instincts told me otherwise [Thanks Derek, for the advice]. I made it past McDonald's across the street before it started to sprinkle. When it rains, it pours here! The faster I walked, the harder it poured. I was close to drenched within a few minutes. It was rather refreshing, though. I planned to stop at Decathlon (like Sports Authority) since it was on the way home so I could buy le parapluie. I asked the sales clerk for un petit parapluie, but of course, they only had un grand parapluie. As we say back home, "Go big or go home!" So I went big, and I went home.