This is what happens to people who don't get out much...

Do you crave cultural experiences? Sometimes I want to leave my little corner of the world and see how other people live. It doesn't even matter what corner as long as its different from the corner I dwell in day in, day out. I do struggle with contentment. It is not good to be restless. But today I had to just get out for a bit. Hmmmm...where could I go in Fuquay with no money and two kids at nap time? (The other two are with Grandma.) I needed to stop at Mom and Dad's to pick some Thai basil and keifer lime. Nothing will transport you like flavors of another land. These particular flavors are so potent and delicious they will just about curb your appetite for actually boarding the plane to visit these foreign lands. Yes, Thai basil is that good. I cannot wait to make stir-fry tonight and fry up Pourntips spring rolls. But, that wasn't enough. I still needed to get this restless trapped in Fuquay, North Carolina itch scratched. (I keep wishing I could go and visit Seth and Shell in Mexico, but it is definitely impossible.) As we headed over Bridge Street and began to pass the old Piggly-Wiggly shopping center I spotted the little Mexican store that carries my two dollar phone cards I use to call Puebla. I took a sharp turn into the parking lot and then remembered to see if any cars were coming. This little shopping strip is my Mexico. Its not my coveted trip to Jerusalem or Provence, but in times of desparation it must do. I love to pull up into the parking lot and see all of the signs in Spanish. Everyone around me has black hair and dark skin and stares at me like, "where did you come from? you're not Mexican." I now begin to feel like I have left my corner of the world. Ahhh, I love it. There's Peluqueria, the hair salon that I have decided is not for me. The Gun and Gold Pawn shop, the laundry mat, the tiny thrift store, and of course Las Carolinas...the tiny market. There is a large sign that reads Envios De Dinero/Money Transfers. The front glass doors are covered in posters and information important to the locals. Inside are all of the necessary ingredients and fresh produce to prepare a meal "like back at home." Fresh, (I assume)local eggs with feathers still stuck on the shell sit atop the counter. A crockpot with tamales and other local baked goods sit here and there with homemade signs taped to the side. A small refrigerated section holds cilantro, limes, cactus, and other miscellaneous produce. Behind the counter I am always greeted with a friendly welcome. "Buenas tardes." I love feeling out of place. It really feels like I am in Mexico for a few minutes. I ask for a phone card to call Puebla, Mexico as Hosanna asks for candy. With this card I can talk to Shell for three hours for only two dollars...not a bad price. (Oh good, I think, he handed me one that doesn't have a porn star on it like that one and that one and that one...) As we head out the door I decide to step into the small thrift store next door. There are huge posters on the windows that say "Going out of Business." As soon as I walked in the door I was greeted by two older women. I wasn't sure what they were saying because it was in Spanish, but I knew it wasn't directed towards me. They instantly grabbed Moriah's bare feet and Hosanna's chunky arms and squeezed and touched and rubbed as they spoke in excited Grandma voices as if their very own grandchildren had entered the room. This was not a front or fake greeting. These women were truly excited to see a baby and a toddler. Excited enough in fact to tear away from the Spanish soap opera on the small t.v. They began to ask me questions about the children and believe it or not, between my vocabulary of five Spanish words and their collection of twenty English words, we were able to communicate about the ages and names of the children. The ladies were grinning and squeezing until the next thing I knew, one of them was holding Moriah as I began to look around. After a while a younger woman of about fiftyish showed up who was fluent in English. She was able to answer questions about prices and so forth. I actually found some little Japanese, wooden thong type shoes...so adorable, for Hosanna but she didn't like them and they did look a little on the small side. As I continued to plow through the racks, Hosanna, as always, announced "pee pee" and did a little dance. I wasn't about to take a chance this time. I asked if there was a rest room we could use. The woman who spoke English pointed us to the back of the store but warned us about the door. "Be careful, it locks sometimes but we don't have the key." Hmm, wouldn't want that to happen. We took care of business and continued to look around. I found a small book shelf with some Christian titles on them. Curious, I started to read through them. I was surprised to find a book by Susan Hunt. Wow, how'd that end up here? I also found a pale, pink cardigan for Moriah, some black, velvet ballet flats for Hosanna, and some soft, white pillow cases to recycle the fabric for I don't know what. They were such a soft, supima cotton with tiny little white on white squares printed on them. I finally narrowed down my purchases and met the lady at the counter. I noticed one of the pillowcases had a disgusting stain on it. She shrugged here shoulders and said, "oh, just use a little clorox. You can get it out. And the price is so good." So what could I say to that? As I headed towards the car I noticed the sky had turned into a dark grey cloud promising a summer storm, I hoped. Out of the salon ran a woman with wet hair half pinned up. She darted towards her car to roll up her windows as she glanced towards the sky. Well, it was time to go back home to my little corner where everything is English and familiar. This will have to do for now...