Okay, so this post actually does relate to apples and is not a metaphor for throwing grenades, real or written. I liked it and it fits. Sort of.

Last Sunday, I went to the grocery store, as most normal people do. I’m trying something new that I call “Don’t eat it if I didn’t/couldn’t make it/pronounce what’s in it”. The details aren’t important, but let’s say it involves a lot of fruits, veggies, and stove-top cooking. (Note: My oven scares the crap out of me. Its previous owner left it with several coatings of thick, sticky, enamel-like encrusted food. I leaned my head in once to clean it with that toxin oven cleaner, but I started to feel a little too Sylvia Plath, if you know what I mean. Also, don’t know how the thing lights. With a match – I know that! But, I don’t want to lose my eyebrows. Thank you very much!).

*Wipes brow*

Whew. Anyway, I wanted apples. Nice. Simple. Apples. Shouldn’t be a problem in Chile. They export APPLES to everywhere in the world. Right? There was not a single apple in the entire store. Not a one. I also couldn’t find eggplant, or spinach. But I just cared about the apples! No one really snacks on eggplant. That’s weird. A crisp apple is another story. I gave up and bought peaches and plums, instead.

I left the store complaining loudly that APPLES are a basic staple. They are a right of groceryhood! One cannot call themselves a SUPERmercado without apples. And don’t give me that crap about buying local or in season…I could write the book. I wanted an apple. Actually, it bothered me because it reminded me of the disappearing semolina from the previous week.

Same story yesterday. I went to a store as I was leaving my yoga class and the selection was even more dismal. A family in front of me was speaking a foreign language that I pegged as possibly Eastern European. The woman walked up to the bored looking man waiting to weigh our fruits and vegetables and tried to ask him “Manzanas?” (JIC manzana = apple.) He didn’t get it. She raised her voice “MANZANAS?!?” getting flustered. He shrugged, still not getting it. Across the room, her husband yelled, “Tienen manzanas?” This time the guy understood and gave the sad finger wag that implied no and, at the same time, what an odd question. That’s right. It was odd. Apples. In a grocery store. Odd.

The week progressed much like that. I became a little obsessed with it. One may argue that I have too much time on my hands. To that person, I’d say I was simply surfacing for air amidst all the paper writing happening over here. Seriously. I’m a machine.

This morning I woke up early and, as a treat to myself, I ordered a latte at Starbucks. Starbucks in the U.S. is usually reserved for moments when a better coffee shop (like Caribou) can not be found, and here it literally translates to “Expensive and trendy coffee shop chain that serves coffee in cups larger than a thimble, and, while still lacking in quality, you go there because they play music in English and it reminds you of home”. The woman who took my order was a b*tch and a half. She couldn’t understand me and I had to repeat myself several times, but instead of being patient she acted like it was my fault. Finally, when they called out my order, they called it out as “Small latte for Sam? Sam? Sam? Small latte? Sam?” I realized they were talking to me. I was “Sam”. Sam is ,ironically, my brother’s name. My brother. As in a man. Riiight. Someone later mentioned that gringos have weird names. I could have been a SAMantha. Whatever. It doesn’t change the fact that Sara sounds nothing like Sam – not even with my accent.

Leaving Starbucks, I was all “Screw it. I’m going to go home and make something delicious.” I walked to the store across the street. What’s the first thing I see as I walk through the doors? A man standing on a stool putting the finishing touches on a large display of…wait for it! Apples.

GAH!

Except, I’m still working on all those other fruits – like the fuzzy kinds. I went home and spent the afternoon trying to find a way to unlock my iPhone which they tell me is too updated. It’s either wait or buy a new phone. Fun.

I know. I know. I sound a little like the Modern Family episode where Cam explains why he and Mitchell arrived late, “It’s a somber occasion and all my tops were too joyful.” Mitchell rolls his eyes and says, “You don’t want our problems.”