When I decided to pack up my life and move to the other side of the world, people had all kinds of helpful advice about how to prepare myself for the inevitable homesickness. But what no one warned me about was the culture shock of a foreign supermarket.
Before I left for London, my dear friend told me the way she prepared herself to move to a new country was to watch hours of YouTube vlogs of people walking around local grocery stores. I thought it was insane and I did not follow her advice.
How stupid I was.
There is an ever-present anxiety that hangs over me about finding a job before my money runs out, and finding a place to live that won’t eat away all my money before I find said job. But the only time I have cried since I arrived in Ol’ London Town one month ago was while trying to navigate a British supermarket.
Among my many issues with the British supermarket, my biggest problem is the snack aisle.
To know me is to know that I love a little treat. I keep a drawer at work stocked with chocolates and crackers to curb those late-afternoon cravings. Most days I will eat a little bowl of chips to tide me over until I make dinner (or sometimes it is dinner). And there is nothing I love more than a bit of Whittaker’s chocolate while I watch my shows at night.
In New Zealand I wouldn’t have to think twice when walking down a chip aisle – I know exactly which brand excels at which flavour – but the British chips bring me no such comfort. Chip flavours that I thought would be stock standard around the world – Sour Cream and Chives, BBQ, Chicken – are nowhere to be found. Instead, the go-to options seem to be Sweet Thai Chili, Mature Cheddar, and Prawn Cocktail. And though they do have Salt and Vinegar – the king of chip flavours – it is all wrong.
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I am inclined to agree. It may only be a month since I left New Zealand, but I already feel like I have moved away from the greatest country in the world to come to a weird place where they don’t know how to make potato chips or chocolate and they don’t smile at you when you make eye contact while out walking in nature.
I long for the day I can walk down a British chip aisle and mindlessly grab a bag, that will be when I truly feel like a real Londoner.
Update: I have now lived in London for eight months, and though I have cried many more times about much bigger problems, I am still no closer to finding my go-to chip flavour. If anyone knows where to find great potato chips in London, please tell me.