When I first arrived to Spain, the first thing I did with my spare time was walked through Murcia to find the best restaurants. This became a regular routine for the first few weeks, but eventually the tapas I was consuming started consuming me...well, my wallet. Euros were running low.
So I grabbed the few euros that I had and faced the daunting unknown: the Spanish supermarket.
Like in most Spanish cities, Murcian streets are lined with panaderías where you can buy your bread, pescaderías for your fish, carnicerías for you meat, fruterías for fruits and vegetables. But instead of hopping around from shop to shop, I opted get all of my food items from the Spanish supermarket chain within a three minute's walk from my house: Mercadona. *Cue catchy little jingle they play every five minutes that sounds like a full song should continue but it just stops at the anti-climatic Mercadona, Mercadona.*
During my first trip to this "Trusted Supermarket," I observed some notable differences between Spanish grocery shopping and typical American (or at least West Virginian) shopping. Besides the narrow, cluttered aisles, these were the features of Mercadona I found most interesting.
The cestas
Because I was only shopping for one person and I had to carry everything home, I decided not to fill up a cart (which you have to "rent for a euro" like in airports), so instead I grabbed one of the strange baskets on wheels that I saw everyone dragging around like so:
(I have grown to love these little cestas. I've become a master at maneuvering them around customers, who seem to love standing in the middle of tiny aisles.)
The fruits and vegetable scales
While in the produce section, I gathered my fruits and vegetables in plastic baggies like I do at Kroger back home. But as I watched other people around me, I noticed they were placing their bags on a machine, pushing some secret code, and retrieving a magical ticket that consequently popped out. After everyone had walked away, I tried playing with this mysterious machine.
I realized that there was no secret or magical involved at all. It was a scale. Next to each type of produce item, there's a number for the key on the scale. So I placed my green peppers on the scale, pressed the corresponding tecla, took the barcode sticker that came out of the base, and stuck it to the plastic bag.
(Amazingly, I've only walked up to the register once forgetting to do this.)
Take your number and wait your turno, please
Because I was thrilled to be living so close to the coast, I decided to check out the catch of the day setting out on the icy display. Annoyed, I stood in a seemingly disorganized line while the attendant served everyone else around me. I was about to give the guy a disproving look and walk away when I realized the people who had "cut in front of me" were presenting small slips of paper. Behind me was a number dispenser.
I took a number, waited for it to pop up on the screen, ordered my favorite boquerones, asked the attendant to debone and cleaned them, and happily walked to the register.
I realized that there was no secret or magical involved at all. It was a scale. Next to each type of produce item, there's a number for the key on the scale. So I placed my green peppers on the scale, pressed the corresponding tecla, took the barcode sticker that came out of the base, and stuck it to the plastic bag.
(Amazingly, I've only walked up to the register once forgetting to do this.)
Take your number and wait your turno, please
Because I was thrilled to be living so close to the coast, I decided to check out the catch of the day setting out on the icy display. Annoyed, I stood in a seemingly disorganized line while the attendant served everyone else around me. I was about to give the guy a disproving look and walk away when I realized the people who had "cut in front of me" were presenting small slips of paper. Behind me was a number dispenser.
I took a number, waited for it to pop up on the screen, ordered my favorite boquerones, asked the attendant to debone and cleaned them, and happily walked to the register.
The bags
When I got to the register, I saw the woman in front of me take out a wad of plastic bags from her purse. I simply thought she was an admirable, green shopper. But then I realized that at the end of the register there were no bags. I frantically glanced around me knowing that I didn't bags hidden in my purse and wondering how I was going to transfer all my food home.
Luckily as I approached the cashier she asked, "¿Quiere una bolsa?" When she saw my assumed I-just-arrived-blank-stare response, she explained how I could purchase either small plastic bags or a reusable bag.
I selected a few, bagged my own groceries, and walked out of Mercadona feeling green and satisfied that I had succeeded in my Mercadona quest. Now every week, I make at least three trips to my local Mercadona.
My advice to a guiri: If you go to Mercadona (which you most likely will at least at one point in your Spain experience), use a cesta, don't forget to weigh your fruits and vegetables, grab a number if you want fish, and come prepared with your own bags and bagging skills.
1 comment:
Mercadona is the BEST grocery store there is. Y punto.
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