Addictions
My guilty pleasure shames me. It's only been a few weeks since my last time and there I was wandering wide eyed and salivating, grasping bottles and eying pills, caressing mature green leaves and tender buds in the middle of a remote Caribbean town.
Reverend Billy would be disgusted.
He and the Church of Stop Shopping choir would raise their hands in prayer for me as I grabbed item after item off the shelves and fondled vegetables of all shapes and sizes at the well stocked, endless aisled supermarket. I mean, I have been out of the country for less than a month and already I have succumbed to that "Oh my god, they have caramelized onion and balsamic flavored chips! And soymilk! And Cadbury Crunchies!" mentality.
Somewhat redeemingly, or perhaps just old and dorky, most of my wonder was expressed in the vitamin and supplement aisle. Being a British territory, its contents are varied from normal Stop and Shop fare. Right next to the boxes of Sudafed and Mucinex were tiny blue vials of Sepia and Antimonium Crudum. "Homeopathic medicine! In a regular grocery store? No way!" I bleated. Europeans (some) actually believe in that natural stuff (as do I), whereas in the States only hippie granola stores (that I love of course, being the granola eating, earth protecting (except on a yacht- small detail), leftist, some days non-hair brushing natural girl that I am) carry such remedies. OK, so does uppity Whole Foods. But the point is, here on Grand Cayman, my grubby little mitts can grab and purchase WHATEVER I WANT! Sepia and Vitamin B, Stugeron for seasickness (deemed to be unsafe in the US, but much safer for me when operating a boat in heavy weather because I can actually stay awake unlike with Dramamine which for me is the equivalent to injecting a horse tranquilizer into my skull. Out. Cold. Which is occasionally nice in 30 knot winds and pounding head seas), fun British treats like Digestive biscuits (not actually a digestive the label warns, just fricken tasty little cookies), and mysterious yellowish green avocado smoothies. So much for being a anti-consumerism hippie.
Of course, I was just as delighted (more so?)to shop in an open air vegetable market in Belize, sampling gelatinous seaweed drinks from worn Igloo coolers and coconut tarts from a street cart while visually groping the piles of yams and lettuce and tomatoes and sugarcane, imagining salad bowls overflowing with delicious, body-fortifying color and steamed sweet potato flesh sprinkled with local spices accompanied by fresh corn tamales.
I take back my statement about Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping. He preaches limiting superfluous, blingy spending. Like my Anthropologie habit, for example. (And you call yourself a hippie? ha!)
I don't think he would make me endure confession for my vegetable obsession.
But my slight Digestive biscuit obsession?
Its been about 15 days since my last indulgence, Reverend. I nabbed the last two out of the cracker drawer that night of rum and cokes and slot machines. They needed me.
By the way, care for a cookie? They're British and they're fricken amazing.
Reverend Billy would be disgusted.
He and the Church of Stop Shopping choir would raise their hands in prayer for me as I grabbed item after item off the shelves and fondled vegetables of all shapes and sizes at the well stocked, endless aisled supermarket. I mean, I have been out of the country for less than a month and already I have succumbed to that "Oh my god, they have caramelized onion and balsamic flavored chips! And soymilk! And Cadbury Crunchies!" mentality.
Somewhat redeemingly, or perhaps just old and dorky, most of my wonder was expressed in the vitamin and supplement aisle. Being a British territory, its contents are varied from normal Stop and Shop fare. Right next to the boxes of Sudafed and Mucinex were tiny blue vials of Sepia and Antimonium Crudum. "Homeopathic medicine! In a regular grocery store? No way!" I bleated. Europeans (some) actually believe in that natural stuff (as do I), whereas in the States only hippie granola stores (that I love of course, being the granola eating, earth protecting (except on a yacht- small detail), leftist, some days non-hair brushing natural girl that I am) carry such remedies. OK, so does uppity Whole Foods. But the point is, here on Grand Cayman, my grubby little mitts can grab and purchase WHATEVER I WANT! Sepia and Vitamin B, Stugeron for seasickness (deemed to be unsafe in the US, but much safer for me when operating a boat in heavy weather because I can actually stay awake unlike with Dramamine which for me is the equivalent to injecting a horse tranquilizer into my skull. Out. Cold. Which is occasionally nice in 30 knot winds and pounding head seas), fun British treats like Digestive biscuits (not actually a digestive the label warns, just fricken tasty little cookies), and mysterious yellowish green avocado smoothies. So much for being a anti-consumerism hippie.
Of course, I was just as delighted (more so?)to shop in an open air vegetable market in Belize, sampling gelatinous seaweed drinks from worn Igloo coolers and coconut tarts from a street cart while visually groping the piles of yams and lettuce and tomatoes and sugarcane, imagining salad bowls overflowing with delicious, body-fortifying color and steamed sweet potato flesh sprinkled with local spices accompanied by fresh corn tamales.
I take back my statement about Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping. He preaches limiting superfluous, blingy spending. Like my Anthropologie habit, for example. (And you call yourself a hippie? ha!)
I don't think he would make me endure confession for my vegetable obsession.
But my slight Digestive biscuit obsession?
Its been about 15 days since my last indulgence, Reverend. I nabbed the last two out of the cracker drawer that night of rum and cokes and slot machines. They needed me.
By the way, care for a cookie? They're British and they're fricken amazing.
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