Sunday, July 31, 2011

pb&j

J & the kiddos are true-blue-loyal to classic peanut-butter & jelly sandwiches. There was a possibility of not being able to find affordable peanut-butter here. J talked about smashing and salting peanuts, making his own. In response, all I could ever muster was a giggle. There is a serious need in him and the kids for this combo-pack. In the States, they ate it--daily. My mom made them an extra large jar of her jam to haul along with everything else. It weighs three pounds. When we unpacked the jar, it had lovely TSA stickers all over it. I can only imagine how that conversation went.

We made our first trip to the grocery store. Peanut-butter on aisle three, everyone exhale (And Sweet-Sue, they have Philadelphia Cream Cheese, too). We kept ooohing and aaahing over things we normally just toss into our cart. "They have this too?! This is the same cost as in the States. Its not that expensive." (Gleefully contradicting what we'd been told)  Then, it sunk in. Working here at a full-time job will bring in between $600-800 each month. Seems we may need to rethink a few things. For now though, I'm choosing to live in the honey-moon stage just a bit longer. I tossed the peanut-butter in the cart and went to find some tasty bread.

Turns out, tasty bread may be a challenge. I'm so eager for us to have a place with a proper kitchen so I can cook and bake again. Its a key piece, I feel, to us settling in properly. Until then, stress levels remain a smidge high.

Food may be a challenge for yours truly. We've been advised not to eat vegetables outside our home. There is a serious cholera risk about and unwashed vegetables could do-you-in something fierce. Day three and I'm already thinking it was a good move to bring plenty of stretchy pants.
We went out to eat--as we've been doing frequently--to a local pizza place. Zora ordered "Corn Pizza" (No worries, the corn was from a can). I thought that was a combination only 2nd-graders experimenting in the kitchen put together.
"Well, what's in that cupboard over there?" kid-one would ask, searching for pizza-topping-inspiration.
"Ummm... green beans, tomato paste and corn. Oooh! Corn!" kid-two responds, reaching for the can.
"Yes! I love corn!" kid-one says with a fist-pump.
"Maybe we should put some chocolate syrup on top of everything," kid-two adds, almost wetting her pants in excitement.
And that's the only way that Corn Pizza would ever happen.
Yet, here it was. On a proper menu. In an actual place of business.
Photographic evidence. Mama don't tell no lies.
 Max chose wisely. Just cheese.
 The park near our place.

Buses here are called "gua gua", pronounced "wah wah." Max thinks that's hilarious.
Home again, home again. Bedtime stories. Buenas noches!

2 comments:

  1. I had corn and canadian bacon pizza at Pizza Hut in Santiago, Chile. :-)

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  2. You'll get past the need to eat "American" food fairly quickly. Not to worry.

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