Somewhere Else

Chapter 3: Teething Pains (iv)

It begins to get tedious. Navigating the streets, going about daily life – it all sounds simple, until you have to do it all in another language while following different customs.

One particular episode that stuck in my mind was my trip to the supermarket down the road. Instead of the S-Market that we usually go to, that I went with Lumi and Janne the first time, I popped into the smaller chain supermarket called Alepa that was closest to our apartment. It was much smaller than the S-Market, but I only needed to grab some food. It didn't make sense to go all the way to the big supermarket just for that.

Surprisingly, the supermarket wasn't as empty as I had thought it would be in the middle of the day. Other than a few people milling around, basket in hand, there was a short line at the cashier's.

All went well until I got to the cashier counter. I had only a few things in my basket – milk, some blueberry jam, a packet of ham, rye bread, and a cucumber for a quick sandwich. I smiled at the cashier as she chimed, "Moi." Then I focused on watching the digital screen at the counter, so that I would know how much to pay when she rattled off the total amount.

I was so busy watching the screen that it took me completely by surprise when the cashier said something. It took me a moment to realise she was speaking to me.

"Ehm..." I stared at her, my mouth open uselessly.

She repeated her statement, a long string of sounds that I couldn't even begin to decipher. Other people didn't speak like Aksel. They spoke as if speaking with a native.

"I'm sorry," I said in English. "I don't know..."

With a sigh of exasperation at my ineptitude, the cashier leaped out of her stool and raced deeper into the store. A furtive glance around told me that everyone else in the line was staring at me as they awaited her return. I could feel my ears getting warmer as a flush of embarrassment climbed up my face.

Not long later, the cashier returned, still holding the cucumber I had picked out. Except now, there was a printed sticker on it.

Right, I realised then, as the cashier finished up the transaction. I had forgotten to weigh it on the machine for the price tag. When it came to the payment, she gestured at the screen, not even bothering to say anything to me now that she knew I didn't understand.

I paid and pushed out of the store, making a mental note to never visit this Alepa again.

When I text Gabi and Tessa about it, they laugh at me good-naturedly.

Oh, come on, types Tessa. Haven't you done that once or twice back home as well?

That gives me pause. Because she's right. I just hadn't thought much of it back then, because it was Hamburg. It was home. If I didn't do something right over there, it was because I had forgotten, not because I didn't know I was supposed to.

It's different here, I try to explain. You should've seen everyone else in line. They were staring at me as if I was a zoo exhibit.

Forget about them, was Gabi's advice. Who cares what they think? They don't even know you.

Easy for them to say, I think privately, dropping the phone onto the bed, where it bounces once, twice. They would fit in perfectly here, the way they fit in perfectly in Hamburg. They would never understand what I'm going through now. Gabi isn't even from Hamburg. I was born there, but if you put us side by side, people are more likely to pick me out as the one who had moved to Hamburg at age 11.

The supermarket incident is not a big deal, I know. But it's just one on top of many other similar things. The truth is, I don't belong here, and everyone around can tell.