Actually, the distance is a bit too large to walk. But since I don't have bike yet, and it is not that far away that I would bother to take a bus, I grab my backpack and walk to the store.
The shopping centre in my new neighbourhood is pretty big and they have loads of useful stores, like supermarkets, drugstores, clothing shops and much more. This is the first time I am spending time around my new room in Utrecht when there is some sunshine, so I do not mind the walk at all.
One of the first people I pass by is an unhealthy looking man who gives me an unpleasant grin when he passes. He leaves traces of an unidentifiable odour in the air. He is followed by another man, somewhat younger, but who gives me the same grin and carries the same heavy-looking bag. Looking at the trace of empty cans of cheap beer they left on the pavement, I am pretty sure what those bags contain. Thanks for the warm welcome, I say to myself.
The supermarket is huge. Enormous. It feels like I am on a holiday in France and enter one of those hypermarchees for the first time. The only thing that's missing is the freezers full of whole fish and lobsters. I have already crossed the vegetable section three times and still have not found the onions and garlic I was looking for. I did found bananas for baking, vegetables who look like hairy branches and grapes. To protect myself from eating the whole package of cookies when I am home, I go for the grapes.
After paying at the cashdesk, all the things I have forgotten pop up in my mind. I'll buy the salt and pepper tomorrow. And the sugar, and the coffee.
On my way home I notice a group of young men is walking towards me, blocking the road. As I come closer, I look the guy in front of me right in the eyes (well, sunglasses), because that 'go the fuck out of my way' trick usually works. It does not now. And since I am not really looking forward to getting into an argument with a group of six guys wearing trashbags with Nickelson written on their back, I decide to jump on the cycling path just before I hit his shoulder. I see the same arrogant grin on his face and feel like slamming his face with my bottle of olive oil.
Yes, a nice neighbourhood that sometimes reminds me a little of Limerick. But this is more the Dutch version. And still better than Limerick, to be fair.
But anyway. I'm going to prepare my first meal here in a couple of minutues (coucous! yay) and my friend asked to go out with her tonight. I agreed, what means I will be wearing her party-clothes (who will look a little tight on me) and that she will have to bring me home on a bike (we are so Dutch!) but it's going to be fun fun fun. I'll just leave my olive-oil-bottle-weapon at home and have a good time.
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