Super Eggs, Not Supermarkets

Just yesterday I wrote about my adventures in perfecting my culinary skills, that I find myself with an abundance of new accomplishments which I feel like sharing (and bragging about). I am living in Ethiopia though, so if I want to brag about washing my dishes in buckets on my floor without running water, I am going to let myself.

Much of my time this week has been exploring my town and finding little shops that I like. More than just buying flour or popcorn kernels, I talk to the owner in my broken Amharic, and try to make a friend. Not only do I enjoy getting to know new people here in Dangila, but finding those shops that I will be able to go to and trust that the owner is not giving me a "ferengi price" will make my days easier in the future.

Shops here line the small dirt roads around town, each with the same set-up, but very different products. From the road in fact, they all look identical. As you approach the shop, which is just a small room, you stand outside and look over all the items for sale on the two sides, and back walls. From floor-to-ceiling there are boxes of items displayed. On the front-side of the shop there is a waist-high counter which the shop owner will stand behind, awaiting your request. The shop may contain a little bit of everything, or it may be just three varieties of cups, but regardless, even duplicate items are stacked high.

Most shops though carry a limited variety of items, as in I must go to one shop for fruit, one for vegetables, one for meat, one for bread, one for baking materials like flour or sugar. The idea of a supermarket is still only in major cities in Ethiopia. It is funny how the concept of not finding everything in one simple store is foreign to me; a supermarket is really all I have ever known.

I have taken to liking the adventure of wandering the streets in search of shops that carry items on my "need to buy" list. I know all curiosity is peaked as I meander through uncharted streets on my limited mental map of Dangila. When I stray from my usual path though, I tend to develop a rather large following of children, which on the right day can be entertaining (other days, or, most days, it is not my favorite thing). The worst is when the children hear me ask for a particular item at one shop and then follow me to the next shop and ask the shop owner for me. I hear them all repeating the name of the item; yesterday is was a teacup. "She wants a teacup! She wants a teacup!" each will tell the child next to him or her. It turns my adventure from a 'practicing shopping vocabulary' trip into a 'practicing how to talk to children' trip.

My egg lady's shop.

I am still searching for the perfect teacup, have yet to find a fork for sale in my town, and I do not yet have a favorite fruit shop. My big accomplishment this week though was finding my "egg lady." She is just a couple minute walk from my house, and the first time I approached the shop a chicken wandered up besides me and flapped itself onto the counter between the shop owner and myself. I say it added to its charm. My favorite part about buying my eggs there is that when I ask for eggs, she has to go look for them; the original egg hunt, not just reserved for Easter. She will leave the shop area and go out back to find the eggs. A supermarket has its conveniences, but this is fresh!

My egg lady.