We are Back in Kansas
I know exactly where the strawberries are
After months of high adventure navigating grocery stores full of unfamiliar foods and different systems for acquiring it. I walked into the Woolworths in Cairns with the relief of a basketball player whose coach calls a needed time out.
I send the children to get pasta sauce, sandwich fixins, and cheese, confident that they will return with things I recognize (or ask someone who will understand their desires). I tackle the adult-oriendted salad and protein only to find bagged salad, pre-mixed, of a brand I recognized. There was chicken already removed from the vast majority of both bones and organs.
To the right, just inside the entrance.
I have loved navigating the giant fish, open markets, tanks of various crustacians, beheaded chickens, rows of unidentifiable sauces, knock-off American products, and all the other challenges that have been part of feeding fairly picky eaters in places not conducive to that.
But sometimes it is just nice to know where the strawberries are.
