Another special post. Dedicated to Albertson’s. Best supermarket ever.
After 1.5 cosy hours in Panera Bread I zipped over to Albertson’s supermarket to buy 4 things.
O.
M.
G.
Now, I’ve spent many an hour in US supermarket aisles but this even blew MY mind (stomach). You can buy every imaginable and unimaginable fresh, packaged, frozen, discounted, long-life, gourmet, organic, ready-made product. And then some.
I wouldn’t have been surprised to see kitchen sinks down aisle 33.
They have a hot soup bar, a hot fried chicken and sides section, a Starbucks, a fresh salad bar, and a hot casseroles, rice and Cajun meals section. And that’s only what I remember.
But best of all they sell Nilla wafer banana pudding by the pound in the deli. Like my other beloved friend, biscuits, I’ve waited 13 years to have banana pudding again.
When I walked past the fresh donuts at 6.30pm they were 79c each. When I did a second round at 7pm they were 12 for 99c. And we’re not talking dainty petite bite-sized either.
Exhibit A
Next to crappy food, the second thing dearest to my heart (oh yeah, and my family and friends, oops) is a bargain.
After 1.5 hours of dawdling down every aisle and crouching down to read the fine print, I got 2-for-1 on: organic 12 seed bread, deodorant, tuna, chicken, and cucumbers from Mexico.
A voice inside the self-checkout machine announces each item as you swipe it. “Red delicious apples. $2.69 per pound. Saving 79c.”
When I was finished scanning, my checkout suddenly lit up with flashing lights and screeching sirens and the voice yelled “CHEAPSKATE!!!!!” Never been so embarrassed in my life.
I fled next door to Poke Geaux. Free wifi – check. Free condiments – check. Helpful, patient staff – check. Bloody bargain – check.
You design your own bowl. Mine cost $11. It contains … ready?
Raw salmon chunks, tofu, salad leaves, those zucchini noodles, edamame, coriander, red onion, carrots, sauce, seaweed salad, shredded nori, fried wonton pieces and sunflower seeds.
I could’ve included another 12 items. But of course I’m being very careful about portion control (believe that, believe anything).
I’m eating it with chopsticks, Miranda, so I eat slow. Complete failure.
I’ve only been here a week and I’ve achieved what I set out to do.
Namely, spending time with everyday people. Today just capped off the kindness and hospitality I’ve been shown in spades so far.
Ever walked into a diner and had everyone stop mid-fork and look up at you?
Well it must be a slow morning in Dwyer’s Cafe, Lafayette, because I’ve just been treated like a queen.
Make that a princess (“You’re 50?? You look 12!!).
I’d not even dumped my backpack when Steve (whose brother lives in The Villages, Orlando where I’m headed. Snap. And who worked for child support agency chasing defaulters. Semi-snap), Darren (Vietnam vet, Brazilian wife), John and Louis insisted I join them.
They were so sweet. As was the waitress who knew all about me from Lexi.
We chewed the fat for 30 mins while I chewed 60 grams of fat in a boudin sausage biscuit.
I’m divorcing chicken fried steak and marrying a boudin biscuit. Oh my …
When I left they gave me a big hug, paid for my breakfast and said I’d made their day. Well they sure made mine, and then some.
This is going to be an early post because (a) I’m tired (b) I’m slightly scared (c) there’s dodgy wifi everywhere.
Have taken refuge in New Orleans public library to charge phone, use wifi and get off the streets as dusk falls.
There are more homeless than homed camping out here, sleeping in chairs or staring into space.
For someone who’s often mistaken for a young thing I was most put out when the librarian in the teenage section upstairs told me only young people could sit up there. “Don’t you know I’m 12??” I stammered.
There’s a shelf of free books, ironically almost all are travel guides to overseas countries. Most people in here can’t even afford to ride the bus let alone get in a plane.
I spied a copy of ‘Handbook of American Indians North of Mexico’ though so if anyone wants it, let me know.
This morning as the bus cruised alongside the Louisiana bayous, past manufactured homes and the odd plantation manor, Big Boy Seafoods and $6.99 buffet restaurants, I decided it was time for some observations, ie gross generalisations of American life, particularly in these southern parts:
Manners are hugely important
Petrol’s cheaper than diesel
When you introduce someone you give their last name too
Food isn’t seasoned much (ref earlier advice on accumulating salt sachets)
You never have to get out of your car – there are drive-through ATMs, donut shops, pharmacies and wedding chapels
It’s perfectly acceptable to take your time ordering food or buying stuff in stores, and to change your mind 6 times and to get into long discussion with waiting/serving staff about tailoring your order. The staff person will patiently stand there while you um and ah. There’ll be no muffled sighs, silent daggers in your back, rolling eyes or surly stares. God love ya New Zealand but boy do you have a thing or 10 to learn about customer service.
Fritos are good. Very good.
Greyhound’s lived up to my expectations:
Roomy seats
Power points
On time
Heaps of room to spread out because there were only 6 of us plus 1 laptop on endless loud loop of cartoons and stupid songs that needed to go use the bathroom at the back of the bus and never come back.
Only 1 demerit point for Greyhound: Yes, there is free wifi. No, you can’t connect to it.
To stop myself eating Fritos I grabbed a 20 oz coffee when we stopped at the Shop-n-Bag in Houma (pronounced like Bart’s dad’s name).
The cup was 25cm high. It cost $1.19. If my gob wasn’t otherwise engaged in skulling coffee, it would’ve been smacked.
Rolled into New Orleans at 2pm. It cost me $8 but worth every cent to stash my backpack at Greyhound so I could be free to roam the street(cars) of New Orleans.
Gotta confess it’s not my favourite city. There’s an undercurrent of threat lurking. And I’ll never forget my last visit here when I spent an hour demanding compensation from Amtrak after they sent my bag on a magical mystery tour.
I just don’t feel safe here. A feeling reinforced when I saw an armed guard at the door of the supermarket.
It’s getting dark so am going to head back to bus station and hang out for 4 hours at a few of the hip eateries nearby and drink coffee and wine till it’s time to turn my bus seat into a bed for the night.
Oh crap, just remembered have to change buses at Mobile, Alabama at 11.45 tonight. Better ditch the wine idea and stick to coffee. These are words I never thought I’d write: I really like American filter coffee.
Good night y’all.
Afternoon tea! I could blame it on voodoo making me eat it but truth is it’s jambalaya, mac cheese, blue cheese crumbles, fried chicken and bacon bits. And that’s all I need to say.
Today’s post brought to you by: 42 remaining minutes of free onboard wifi
Grateful for: Having 2 seats to myself
Trying hard to accept: How long it takes to get anywhere in this vast country
Your typical Greyhound station. To kill time at the New Orleans one you can: eat Subway, get rid of your wallet-full of quarters in the shooting alley, pluck your eyebrows in the restroom (done!), watch Spanish TV with English subtitles, or, if you’re really bored, all 4.
It’s 1.12am and I’ve been awake for 21 hours. Like a young resident doctor, but without the big pay cheque and sexy scrubs.
Am somewhere between Mobile “Mobeel” Alabama and next place we have to get off bus, Tallahassee, Florida, at 5am.
I can’t believe that this time yesterday I was tucked up in a super comfortable king size bed in a super comfortable home in a genteel, manicured neighbourhood. My, how things change in 24 hours.
Every family has one – the chip-on-the-shoulder relation – and I met the Greyhound family’s one in New Orleans. A driver who makes US customs and border security staff look like your best friends.
Everyone got told off for some crime or other against Greyhound. I’ve now got a criminal record for printing my ticket double-sided. “Who told you to do dat? Don’t ever do dat again, you hear? Now get on the bus.”
If I wasn’t relying on him to drive I would’ve pushed him under the bus.
Thankfully we switched buses at Mobile and he drove off to harass the people of Atlanta. The new driver, Miss Sharleen Williams, is like that sweet young cousin who’s always nice to everyone.
Riding the bus can be the pits. When it’s crowded, stuffy, smelly, running 7 hours late, and when you’re forced to use the bathroom because you stupidly drank coffee 4 hours ago. But the upside is you meet the most interesting and amusing people.
Like the woman from Arkansas who thought I sounded like Joss Stone. (Doesn’t she smoke like a chimney?). And the woman with 6 missing teeth from Florida who’s on her way to visit her 27 year old son who’s just come out of prison. She’s the proudest mom now her son’s found a girlfriend, job and gotten his kids back.
Then there’s Steven from all over the place. Gave away all his stuff, bought a kayak from Walmart and spent 3 months paddling the Mississippi from Minnesota to Louisiana. “Aren’t there big cargo ships down the Mississippi?” I asked. “Yeah, there were a few hairy moments. Not sure I’d do it again”, he said with a big childlike grin.
He’s now off to walk the Florida Trail for the next 3 months. Everything he owns fits into a tramping pack and big pillow case, and weighs 35lb.
“They cut my disability ‘cause they said there was nothing wrong with my mind. Now I only get $1,000 a month.” He’s gonna buy all his food for the walk at Dollar Generals and Walmarts along the way.
He then told me he’s a Gulf War veteran – a nuclear missile specialist. “Wow, that must’ve been tough. Where’d you get stationed?” I asked, thinking Iraq, Kuwait, etc.
“Wyoming.”
Steven Action Man
On the New Orleans-Mobile leg I was lulled to almost sleep listening to 2 women chat. There’s something about the way southerners speak that sounds like a lullaby. I think it’s the softness of the accent and the flat tones. Compare to something like German which is jerky and abrupt and full of uneven tones and volumes. I can’t describe it but it’s so lovely to listen to.
And there’s no stopping and starting, interrupting or awkward silences. It’s like they each know exactly what to say and when to say it.
3 hours and no sleep later. The bus station in Tallahassee, Florida, looks like a combined homeless shelter, veterans’ hospital and prison yard. There are men with crutches, towels over their heads, and sprawled on the seats and floors.
You can buy anything in the 24-hour convenience store as long as it’s (a) been sitting on the shelf since 1978 (b) minimum 1,500 calories (c) full of more chemicals than your average high school science lab.
Old enough to have its own historic artefact listing
I bought a surprisingly good (read as: desperate) coffee and started answering lots of questions from the cashier and other passengers once they discovered there was a foreigner in their midst.
“Operator Johnny Stalin” our driver to Orlando took the (boudin) biscuit. He was either a southern Baptist preacher, amateur actor or prison warden in a former life.
For the past 30 minutes we have all sat up straight like school children while Johnny barked instructions at us, throwing in dramatic pauses while some offending passenger removed their headphones so they could pay full attention to the sermon from the bus aisle.
After telling us there are only three words we need to use or hear on “his bus” and those are “please”, “thank you” and “LISTEN!” he blessed us all and finally sat down, shut up and drove.
The minute his back was turned everyone sprawled their stuff out, put their headphones back on and switched on their phones.
Now watching the sun rise. Given up all hope of sleep so must be time to make a breakfast sandwich.
Thunderstorms forecast for Friday when I wake from my 100 year sleep, but I love a good southern thunderstorm. Hopefully there’s an indoor pool at The Villages so I can rediscover my muscles.
Trying to accept: Size of this retirement village. It makes Auckland look like a small town.
Just as the bus trip to Orlando was ending I’d managed to get the gig down to a T.
Within 4 mins, 39 seconds of arriving at a truck stop in Ocala I had:
Complimented a passenger on her choice of nail polish
Brushed teeth
Gone to loo
Checked for food in teeth
Chosen coffee from 5 different hot blends, 2 iced blends and 3 other mysterious kinds
Chosen milk and creamer from regular, cream, hazelnut, peppermint, chocolate, cinnamon …
Perused baseball caps for present for brother
Scoffed warm buttery biscuit from Arby’s
Got back to seat without being told off by Johnny.
The theory
The practice
It was all going swimmingly when somebody’s phone rang. Johnny was straight on the PA system.
“Whose phone was that? Now ladies and gentlemen. As I told you all earlier. There are 2 words you need to use on this bus. Please. And thank you. [Wonder if I should’ve pointed out to Johnny that those are in fact 3 words].
“The thank you seals the please.
“Now all I want to do, all I asked you to let me do, is drive this bus without being interrupted by your electronic devices.
“Is that so hard, ladies and gentlemen? Do you not understand English?
“I played the announcement twice, in both English and Spanish, so you have no excuses for not doing as I very clearly asked you to do.
“Now, please, turn your phones to vibrate. Do you understand what that means? If you have trouble understanding please come up to see me, one person at a time, and I will explain it to you again.
“Thank you ladies and gentlemen. I hope the rest of your day is blessed.”
I think Johnny has some per.son.al.ity issues.
Got out of that bus and away from that man as fast as I could with 50lb of bags. My friend Ben had just flown in from Minneapolis so she whisked us away to The Villages retirement community.
Florida must be funding itself with tolls. Within 20 minutes we had to stop 3 times on the interstate to pay tolls. No rhyme or reason to amounts: $1.25, then $1, then $3.25.
If you don’t have the right change they take your picture and send you down to Mar-a-Lago to spend a week with Donald and Melania.
An hour later we stopped at The Villages supermarket to buy a few provisions. Thank goodness it was only a few because it was like shopping in Saks. The prices made NZ look cheap. Next stop Walmart.
To say this place is enormous is to say I like food. There are villages within The Villages. Each one is s … hang on, what’s this? Message on my phone. AMBER ALERT. Huh?
Seems a father, somehow connected with The Villages has kidnapped his young daughter, also somehow connected with The Villages, and everyone has been sent his name and car rego number so they can keep their eyes peeled. Well if that ain’t efficient I don’t know what is.
Ok, I haven’t slept in 36 hours so will have to show you photos of The Villages tomorrow. Might have to hire a helicopter to get it all in.
