Isn't it dumb how when you find stuff overseas which you had been craving you pay really stupid prices for it. Even worse, you invent memories in your mind of how this was your absolute favourite thing back home.
On a walk around the maze of markets around Omonia, I discovered a street full of Chinese and Indian shops, and attracted more attention to myself than necessary by clasping my hands together in delight every time I came across some random Indian object like kebab mix and all the other things from the Homeland. "Hooray" I thought "now I won't starve!"
The highlight of my escapade was a barren Halal meat shop with a fridge stocked with mango juice, a TV perched atop it blaring out Bollywood. I nearly wet my pants with joy. I purchased said mango juice at the hefty price of one euro per can. Later when I was scraping together change for a bus ticket, I questioned the wisdom of my youthful enthusiasm. Hey, when a girl wants her mango juice in a forgein country, she's gotta have it! All I needed after that was a cotton sari to wear to work. Strangely enough, on trips to Birmingham's Sparkhill, I tend not to go into fits of happiness with mango juice and just have water.
Image: https://www.simplyspice.co.uk/images/shan_10.jpg
No comments:
Post a Comment