Where in the World is Dakota?

Forget sightseeing—the FIRST real adventure today was navigating the grocery aisles! The store, only a short walk from the apartment, felt similar to walking into a smaller neighborhood grocery store back home. You could tell some patrons were regulars, some hadn’t been in for a while, and then there was me—I’d never been there before.

I chose one of the yellow baskets on wheels to gather my items. I wasn’t planning to buy too much, so a basket was perfect—and it saved my arm strength for carrying everything back. 😅

Thanks to TikTok videos, I knew that when shopping in the produce section, you’re expected to put on gloves before touching anything. I got that part right. What I didn’t know was that you also have to weigh the produce yourself and print a sticker for each item to scan at checkout. I discovered this only after making it to the self-checkout—so back to the produce section I went! 🙈

Observing the aisles was fascinating. The pasta aisle (no, not every Italian makes their pasta from scratch every meal!) was enormous. The olive oil section? Endless. Processed foods? Almost nonexistent. There were no flavored creamers, no sugary cereals towering on the shelves, and the eggs weren’t even refrigerated—they sat out neatly on display!

Another section that caught my attention was the coffee aisle. Rows upon rows of espresso in small packages—no giant tubs in sight. Starbucks does make an appearance on the shelves, but overall the ingredient lists seem shorter and less chemical-filled than what I’m used to. I might have to ask someone back in the States to send me a picture for a proper comparison.

To avoid testing my Italian at the register, I opted for the self-checkout lanes—something I know well from home. Later I learned these are a newer addition to Italian stores. They’re definitely ahead of us in one way, though: reusable bags. Italians have been charging for bags for at least a decade!

Checkout itself turned into quite the comedy. The machine I chose kept glitching, and the attendant had to keep coming over. Of course I’d pick that one! She was kind and patient, even when I had to circle back to weigh my fruit and print the missing stickers. Google Translate’s photo feature came in handy at the register, too. Finally, the struggle was over… or so I thought.

I turned toward the exit and saw a gate. Easy, right? Just walk up and it opens? Nope. The security guard looked on, chuckling, as I fumbled with it. Finally, I took a breath and managed to say: “Sono americana, il mio italiano non è buono.” (I’m American, my Italian is not good.) He smiled, said “ricevuta” (receipt), and pointed to a small scanner. Ah-ha! I scanned my receipt, the gate opened, and I slipped out—quickly and a little embarrassed. 😅

I didn’t buy much, but the prices were noticeably more affordable than in Colorado. Back at the house, I cooked a meal as a thank-you to the family I’m staying with. They (and one of the daughters’ friends) seemed to enjoy my attempt at enchilada casserole. It wasn’t my best—some ingredients were missing—but it was tasty nonetheless. I wonder if the larger grocery stores might have more of what I’m used to.

If something as everyday as grocery shopping feels like an adventure, imagine what the rest of this year will bring! I haven’t even been here a week yet!