Believe it or not, I didn’t take ANY pictures on Wednesday.
The day started out a bit lazy. Slow morning filled with babbie laughter and occasional shouts of “NO! DON’T CLIMB IN THE FIREPLACE!!” Breakfast of those store packaged croissants. Lunch of ham, salami and cheese panini, smooshed on the panini-press. And some nice, general lazing about.
Mom and dad ventured down to the beach. I napped.
Then, when the non-siesta was over, P, L, the babbies and I loaded into the wagon and headed for grocery store #3. The one that was bigger than #1, closer than #2, and closed yesterday.
Overall, it was definitely a step up from #1 in terms of stuff. The staff wasn’t quite as friendly, and it wasn’t as big as #2, despite being in the same chain. But it wasn’t an unpleasant experience, until my American got in the way.
“Quarter kilo reggio parmesan, please,” I said into the translator app.
“Quarto chilogrammo reggio parmesan, por favore,” said the translator app.
So, it turns out that a quarter of a kilo isn’t a thing here.
Mezzo chilo (half kilo) is TOTALLY a thing. Less than that, though, you’re supposed to switch to grams. So deli guy interpreted my translator app as wanting FOUR KILOS of cheese.
Panic and mayhem ensued, because I didn’t figure out the grams thing until I was home, ashamed of not being better with the metric system.
Thankfully, at least, we were able to eventually get a small wedge of cheese. But not until cheese guy was thoroughly disgusted with me.
C’est la vie.
Or, I guess Questa è la vita.
P made a great dinner of risotto with local veggies and some cured pork belly. I was trying to comfort the wailing girl-babbie while he finished up, because I figured I could do that better than actually cook risotto. Boy was I wrong. She wanted nothing to do with me in her agitated state, and got so upset that she projective vomited half a bottle of milk all over the both of us.
:: jazz hands ::
Questa è la vita.