Adventures in grocery shopping

My first trip to Wuhan in December I taught International Marketing. So for me, walking the half mile to the Zhong IGA store—it's like a Fred Meyer in Chinese—was an extension of school. A two story building with household goods on the second floor and groceries on the first, it was my 'field work' reconnaissance. I went to shop, but mostly to learn by examination how Western companies had applied the principles I taught about adjusting your product to a foreign market. It's fascinating. In fact, I will confess to walking down there to just to spend several hours to fondle and gawk at products.

As you prowl the aisles—set up much like a Costco—you quickly learn you're not alone. At a minimum there are three friendly female workers whose job is to stand in each aisle and help you buy products. Proactive sales associates do take some getting used to. Plus, it's always interesting to see them size you up as you enter their aisle. They decide in a split second if they should bother with you, a Westerner, since clearly you don't know Chinese and they don't know English.

Beyond the language issue, international marketing principles application analysis, investigation of mysterious foods, discovering your TOTAL reliance on packaging with photos for clues to contents, you must also adjust to a more important food fact: the convergence of grocery story and, from a Westerner's perspective, pet store.

I had been so mesmerized by the packaged food products last time that I had totally ignored the meat and seafood department. This was my sad discovery this week when I returned to forage for food.

Near the dairy section—I bought some kiwi yogurt—I spied clear tanks with moving objects. Curious, I ventured closer. Oh my. Turtles. About 20 in total with two varieties of about a foot in length reacted to their grocery store captivity in different ways. One variety clearly had written off its existence since they just sat there awaiting their fate. Another variety had a will to live and violently tried to escape atop the quitters' backs. Alas, the plastic jail kept them housed very well. But, you could tell in their eyes they knew...this was a terminal situation.

Their next door neighbors, the frogs, sat in quiet stupor. Nearly as large as the turtles, the frogs seemed resolved as well. They just sat. Staring. No blinking. Not seeing anything. Never uttering a croak. Clearly, they had powerful legs, but either they had lost the use of them or they too had been overcome by depression and gave up like some of their neighbors.

Next door to them a large school of fish—one to two feet in length—occupied a rather small area. A young man seemed to want one for dinner. I learned how grocery 'fishing' is done. You just grab a net and scoop out a fish and plop it in a bag and take it to be weighed. Quick. Simple. I didn't want to think about the turtles or frogs...

Clearly, my mind had been elsewhere during my December grocery trips. I'd remembered the grocery store with fond memories. The next time I return to stock up on essentials, I will not venture near the meat department. It reminds me too much of PetCo.