The “big” supermarket is a long tromp from my house, so I was very happy to discover a place closer to home that could serve all my needs. It’s impossible (for me) to tell just what a store is going to be like when I look at it from the outside. This looked like just another closet-sized convenience store from the outside, but when I walked in I found it was a very large closet.
It’s a real grocery store, with little carts and everything. I grabbed a cart (no deposit required) and pushed it toward the extremely narrow entry gate. Its wheels roared as we trundled across the entryway. I thought of turning back and grabbing another cart, but I pushed on.
Once in, I saw a remarkably spacious store. The reason: it was too narrow for two aisles. Along one side is the meat and cheese counter, where you must ask for what you want. Along the other was staples. That section gave way to another room where there were two aisles. I left my cart and went in there on foot.
The place was filled with sound, but there was little talking. All around me was the rumble of little carts. A man came in and he knew where he was going, pushing his cart ahead of him with a mind-splitting roar. A little old lady was using her cart as a walker while it grumbled along. When people were racing for position in the checkout line it sounded like NASCAR.
There was a freezer section with opaque lids. I have no idea what’s in there. I was hoping someone would lift a lid while I was in position to see, but it never worked out that way. In the back was another room, separated by the beer section, with refrigerated stuff. Finally it was time to take on the meat and cheese counter.
Service there apparently goes by age. As long as there was someone there older than I was, they were served, but even when there were several people obviously younger than I was, I got the attention of the attendant. The extra time was more than welcome, as the options were dizzying. I indicated some sliced sausage and the woman asked “how much?” I’m sure that’s what she asked, but I had no idea what to answer. I don’t know fractions in czech, and honestly I don’t know what a kilogram of sliced sausage looks like. I held up my hands to indicate 1.5 handfuls and accepted what I was given. After a similar ritual with the bacon I was ready to go. I thanked the meat lady for her patience and with her smile I rumbled on, the sound of my wheels lost in the roar of two new arrivals.
It’s my new favorite grocery store.