Living in Malta:

                   A Paranoid Moment

 

 

A lot of the Maltese have these little roll-around carts they go  grocery shopping with.  They look like a flattened golf-cart bag.  I've got a cart, too, but it's a little red one that's just a plain four-wheel cart--with no bag-like thing inside it.

 

             This could be the supermarket where I shop--Scots in Sliema

 

Sometimes I used my little red cart back in the US when I felt like shopping and getting some exercise at the same time.   I was an absolute spectacle with that red cart in Dover, NH, where people use their car to drive everywhere--including  their bathrooms.  Still, I knew that people do use those shopping carts in Malta, so I had mine shipped with the rest of my stuff.

 

I used it for the first time this evening.  And I felt very self-conscious. 

I don't know if this is part of the culture-shock business or just my own neurotic tendencies coming out. But I started worrying that my cart was making too much noise when I rolled it up the street.  I heard every snap, crackle and pop as it rolled over the cobblestones and worn, broken stones of the Maltese streets.

 

I even stopped my cart to listen to other people rolling their carts in the street.  And, yes, my cart was louder.  I suddenly felt like abandoning it and going home, but I knew that would really be nuts.

 

So I went shopping at Scots--my supermarket--and felt OK when I was inside with the cart. My paranoia came back when I was at the check-out counter and the young woman there had to ask someone to weigh the little box of tomatoes I had bought. I suddenly felt like I should have known they were supposed to be weighed. I felt like A FOREIGNER.   A FOREIGNER WITH A RED CART THAT MADE TOO MUCH NOISE.

 

So when I left the store, I started rolling my cart in the road instead of on the streets because it was quieter than on the stones of the sidewalk. But that proved to be too dangerous.  So there I was back on the street.

 

And then, I had, well, I don't know how else to put it--but I had a brief moment of...flatulence.  Sorry, but it happened.  And my red-cart paranoia was over.  I remembered what a Maltese man told me the other day.  He said that Malta was so small and that everyone knew everything about everyone else so that, "When you farted in Malta, everyone heard it."

 

Suddenly I wasn't as concerned about my red cart making too much noise.  I had other problems to worry about.

 

 

 

 

Comments

[Lynne]

Well that's the girl I knew well in college!

Got me laughing too - thanks! :-)

[Sennuwy (an ancient Egyptian name)]

Katie, what's so funny? I'm glad I made you laugh; my kids won't speak to me now----Ilene

[Sennuwy (an ancient Egyptian name)]

Hi there, Mr. Holmes. HA HA! I was waiting to hear from you...Ilene

[Katie]

Laughing so hard over here!

[Steve Holmes]

Ahh flatulence, the butt of many jokes, you can't beat a bit of toilet humour for raising a smile..

[Sennuwy (an ancient Egyptian name)]

You're a real pal, Lynda. We'll be two old f______ s with our trollies someday in Malta :-)

[Lynda Adlington]

If I see you coming along the street with your little red cart and farting loudly, I'll be a true friend - I'll cross over the road and pretend I've never set eyes on you before. oops, what was that ? Hell, looks like I've joined the club. I want a purple trolly though :-)