17 October 2020
It’s been awhile since I’ve written about my life in Orlando. I think it’s hard for me to tell you about what I’ve been up to during the pandemic for a couple of reasons. On one hand, I am getting used to living in Orlando. There are less new and “unusual” experiences: working from home is normal, the green grass looks normal, the internship feels normal. Orlando is also much more open than much of the country, and I have been doing many things people are not allowed to do: working at coffeeshops, eating at restaurants, and going to Disney (multiple times in the past few months). I feel slightly guilty, but I also haven’t contracted coronavirus. Or at least I don’t think I have.
But I think it’s normal and necessary to go to the grocery store, so I’ll write about that. Normally, I’m very familiar, confident, and comfortable in grocery stores. I know the basic layout of the produce section, meats and frozen products, and pantry items. Whether it’s Walmart or Trader Joe’s or an Asian supermarket, I know my way around and can easily pick out what I need from the dozens of choices available.
But today’s grocery trip was very different. The supermarket’s name is called the Patel Brothers, and it was my first time going.
I don’t think I’ve ever been to an Indian grocery store before. I can count on my fingers the number of times I’ve eaten Indian food in California, and I have not had Indian food in Orlando. Suffice to say, I know very little about Indian food.
Patel Brothers is not very big. There is a small produce section, plus 5 tall and narrow aisles, and clear frozen glass doors on one side wall.
Jennifer and I walked into the store and were greeted by wafts of spice. Dried goods were tinted orange. I wandered through the produce section, surprised to see 絲瓜 and 南瓜, very normal melons for Chinese dishes. There were also tomatillo, aloe, and baby eggplants that reminded me of the Mexican supermarkets that I visited with Keren. And of course, grocery staples like apples, onions, garlic, and potato were present.
There were also many vegetables I recognized but were labeled with different names. That was fine, because at least I knew what they tasted like, unlike everything else in the store.
The middle aisles consisted of all kinds of spices, different types of grains / beans / lentils / gram / chickpeas, and numerous types of powders (like flour, but not made of wheat). There was an entire shelf filled with pickled everything, and endless rows of curry packets. I recognized none of the snacks. Even with the pictures, I wasn’t sure what anything would taste like.
Jennifer went to on a trip to India last year and would point out items and excitedly say, “We had this when I was in India!” Half the time, she added, “It was very spicy.” HAHA.
I was very lost. We walked through the entire store, and all I had put in the cart was an avocado and a packet of na’an bread.
The last row had the frozen section. I was surprised to find samosas and chapati, two foods that were very popular in Uganda (I forgot samosas were Indian). I guess India influenced some of Uganda’s cuisine. I grabbed a small box of frozen potato and peas samosas. I was also determined to try something new, so I put a box of onion pakora in the cart. Jennifer assured me it was tasty. I have no idea what it is.
We finally reached the checkout area, and I told Jennifer to wait for me. I went back to the other side of the store and rummaged through a pile of Indian snacks and picked up one that looked somewhat tasty. The spices are what intimidate me.
At the checkout, I noticed a pile of freshly made samosas. They were packed in Ziploc bags, much like the fresh buns and breads at Chinese supermarkets. I casually asked the checkout lady what was inside, and she placed two bags of three samosas on the belt, along with a vegetable puff. I said yes to one bag of samosas and one veggie puff, and she put the other bag back in the pile. There were also these yellow cakes at the end of the counter, which she eagerly told me were “tasty” and “not spicy.” I told her I’ll come back next time to try them.
What an adventure. I want to go back, but the trip won’t be very productive unless someone who is very knowledgeable shows me around. I mentally ran through my list of Orlando acquaintances, and I am sad to say I only know someone who is half Indian.
This experience reminded me how culturally deprived I have felt recently. I feel like I am constantly fighting to be heard and known because of my background, or blindly navigating the norms of white culture. I regularly feel a pressure to conform or the burden to explain my difference. As a result, I am often skeptical and defensive in conversations about race, ethnicity and culture.
The brief 30 minutes at Patel Brothers was a breath of fresh air. I felt no expectations to prove who I am. I didn’t need to know anything about Indian food. I was overwhelmed but I also felt so content and peaceful exploring all the new and unfamiliar. I have not opened up to another culture and immersed in it (as much as being in a grocery store gives you immersion), and I miss it. I can’t wait to travel again when this pandemic is over.
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