Silent shopping for one

I'm learning to live alone again. Last time it happened I was 23 years old, 19 years ago...

I was still getting the wrong quantity of food when grocery shopping until recently. Started off with 1 kilo instead of kilos for fresh produce for instance, then updated to 0.5 kilo - thank heavens they have this option when ordering online. In fact, if they didn't before, they sure do now, for the days call for it, unfortunately due to the increasingly expensive prices of everything, most especially grocery shopping, most particularly food. There are now options for ordering as little as 200 grs for meats, this was never the case before, and I have been getting my groceries online, on and off since 2014! Anyhow, glad to finally being able to get exactly what I needed today, not more, nor less, adjusting to this solo living and cooking for one. 

Once every 4 to 5 days in wintertime when I wash my hair is the only time I use hot water for my showers, I'm cold showering otherwise daily throughout the year, in the mornings on cold / mild days, and the evenings on warm / hot days. I had my hot shower this morning, sat in the beautiful sun for a while, then went down to the corner shop. It's the single shop in the whole residence, though we're not very far from a big chain supermarket that I am not particularly crazy about. The compound consists of big buildings which are half empty, on a terrible road that is not suitable nor meant for walking. Everyone is usually always in their car and the priority is theirs not the pedestrians', in a typical Lebanese way. The big arguments over the parking lots between the residents is a very common thing in here. I have two parking lots myself, they are designated for the apartment I'm renting. Every apartment has one parking space, except mine. Ironically my landlord paid extra at the time of buying this apartment to have this additional spot. Needless to say, I don't need either, since I don't own a car. I used to require them to be vacant for my visitors before. However, bit by bit, and as time went on and I started to receive less and less people, I stopped making a fuss about them. These days when I very occasionally receive a guest, I get them to park totally outside of the building on the main narrow road, instead of the parking space underground, to avoid having to go through the neighbours. There are always cars parking nowadays in both my spots, nobody asks for permission, nobody mentions anything to me. It's a very wild world in here, I do not like it, nor its people, nor their ways of co-existing. I am only friendly with an old Sudanese man who works in assisting residents living abroad to look after and maintain their apartments while they're away, or helping them when they're visiting, and few other minor jobs for the compound, namely collecting bills and maintenance. He got a heart stroke and surgery last summer, and since he's doing less and less work around. When I stumble upon him he likes to share his family updates, in Egypt and Dubai, proudly telling me the news of his doctor son and his grandchildren. Another person I'm friendly with is a Syrian guy who resides here with his family, works as a plumber and handyman. He's a man of very few words, we hardly ever talk, but he has a quite temperament and a low voice, I don't mind him especially because of that. I hire him regularly for all stuff that needs fixing around the apartment, which somehow seem to be growing by the day. A lot has happened to put me off this place, slowly but surely anyway. I have always loved foreigners, ever since I was a child and father had staff from different nationalities in his shop and workshop. There was always the curiosity for meeting people who come from a totally different land, their customs, ways, thinking, behaviors, accents, etc. and excitedly I learned through experience that these people tend to have a much more simpler ways of life - especially if they come from the suburbs - which is very close to my heart personally, for I am a minimalist at heart and love the country living. It isn't an accident that I ended up marrying an Irish man at one point. The old ways I grew up with being my father's daughter is becoming or has already become an old fashioned thing over here, of a time totally different than, and unfitting for this time. This big city life is not for me, and the overly religious and patriotic people filling it leave no room for humanness and the simple things that makes us and binds us together. I have become even more isolated than my usual lately, for my hope in people's potentials is dwindling, and my rosy filters have cracked, numerously.

It took me months after moving here to realize that there was actually a shop among these ghostly towers. It is situated two buildings away from mine, on the dead end of the street, meaning that coming to and fro my place, I simply don't pass by it at all, and it was hidden because of the way our buildings are set up, no symmetry whatsoever. Though they belong to the same compound, no two buildings look identical - and not in a charming way. They vary in size and heights, different apartment sizes, number of rooms, divisions, parkings, etc. Anyhow, grateful for this little shop now more so than ever, because as it turned out, I need to shop every few days - instead of weekly, and in tiny quantity, this shop is doing the trick for now. I picked a couple of apples, two oranges, one pomegranate, a small bunch of bananas, and that should be all the fruits I would need for the next 3 to 4 days, also a head of lettuce, few tomatoes, a handful of cucumbers, some courgettes, a bunch of parsley, and 4 lemons. I no longer look at the scales, but focus more so on the quantity I'm picking, figuring things in my head, solo me, I alone, just for myself, just me... The eggs however, I still get the wrong quantity, when I get the 6 pcs box it's usually gone way too early, and the big carton of 30 lasts forever, not sure about it being fresh by the time I use up the last ones. Half a carton (15 pcs) seems to be adequate, except I go from consuming eggs daily - for protein especially when I don't want to bother cook properly, though I'm not crazy about eggs, to not using any at all for days on end, ending up with the same problem as purchasing the full carton. So perhaps next time I shall pick myself a few like I do with all my produce these days. It felt somehow light in a good way, coming home with only just one bag full of produce, and a another bag for the eggs. This is all I need, and perhaps even less, if I want to break it evenly for the week. I've spent the last two decades of my life shopping and carrying bags for a family of three then two, then three then two, then three again, then two again, and guests... These days, it's just for me, I feel lost but perhaps that too is needed so I could find myself again, on the most existential, deepest level, but also on a day to day mundane level too. 

I grew more appreciative of this particular shop as time went by, not just because of its convenience, but particularly because it is run and owned by a couple in their 50's who are both deaf and mute. This means, I get to shop quietly, without noise, without small talk, without gossip, without nagging, without talking religion and God and people and the country and the terrible times we're living in, and the $ daily rate, and the elections, and the neighbours. It also means that I don't have to engage in small talk, fake niceties, answer intrusive questions, connect with empty shallow words and sayings... silent shopping suits me to the core. 

The absence of words however isn't succeeding in hiding away this staple era. The couple usually have the lights totally off when on their own, once a customer enters the shop, they go the switch and turn it on - though its totally dark inside without any day light coming in. The government power is hardly ever on at all for the last year and half, meaning all citizens are forced to use the power service provided by the militia people of the infamous generator subscriptions, which cost is rising by the day if not the hour, and these days, collected in fresh American dollars only. The value of the Lebanese pound is plummeting daily, continuously so for the last 3 years without a break, going from 1.500 L.L. for the American dollar, to 51.000 L.L. as I type this. Not to mention the  the Russia / Ukraine / United States situation of late, and the invented worldwide petrol cricis... When the lights go on, you see a poster of their favorite political leader  on the wall to the right of the till, you can instantly tell which political party they're part of / supportive of. On another wall there's a calendar hanging, with the photo of some Saint on it, revealing effortlessly who they cherish on the non earthly level. And then there are the small mannerisms, things they say to each other in sign language or muted sounds, I even saw them arguing this way once. I often see the man playing a game on his phone, it isn't just to fill the time, he also attends to his most demanding game when filling my order, or calculating my total, he pauses all actions to click on few buttons on his phone. People and their priority have always confused me, this man is no exception. I also often see them video calling people, I used to think it wouldn't be possible consider they can't talk or hear, turns out everybody who knows them find a way to get through. I'd say they're quite the social and friendly couple. The woman in particular is always excited to see me, she's smiling and upbeat, always cleaning and tidying away, welcoming in her own silent way, unlike her partner whose face is almost always neutral. It isn't just the religion or the loud political preference that gives them away as a typical Lebanese couple despite the absence of their words, but also their being part of the system. In my head, I used to think of them of some sort of a against the current, unique couple, but the more I learn about them, the more I realize just how typical they are, and Lebanese through and through. The other day I was there and the woman showed me a message on her husband's phone that they received from some bank, it was in English, and it was telling them that their visa card was ready to be collected, she was asking me to explain the message for her. I translated it to her through pretending I am using my bank card - which I don't personally own anymore since I closed my very humble sole debit account right after the so called revolution and the start of the banks crisis in here back in the end of 2019. She understood quite quickly thankfully, I left their shop that day feeling rather inferior to everybody. I felt small and lost and hopeless, like I do everyday on this land with all sorts of systems and people partaking in all sorts of invented abnormal norms, ever so effortlessly, without any resistance or defiance. 

Why am I like this? Why can't I just be part of the whole? Why can't I enjoy silent arguing with a partner? Why did I get rid of all my partners? Why am I living alone now? Why is Yasmina gone? What is the norm truly, and what isn't? Why am I feeling relieved that I somehow live off grid, that I somehow exist outside of the system, that somehow I am not engaging in arguments with people, with friends, with my daughter? There seems to be a price to pay for being in a social setting, to be part of a group, which is our basic instinct and need as species, but somehow this price has always felt way too high for me to be able to afford. I used to pay, but then decide against it, it cost me my peace every time, it cost me myself oftentimes. 

Shopping for one might be the beginning of a very peaceful life where less is more, exactly the way I like it. I am yet to find a way to evacuate myself from this needlessly huge family sized apartment that is now empty and gloomy, to a more compact, studio size place fit for one, relieving myself eventually from the head / nerve wrecking of the desperate, neurotic and futile act of constantly wanting to fill it in, or dress it up to look and feel warm. 

I'm not as big as I look, I don't need as much as I thought, I am not made for the loud craze that this social living calls for. I'll live on my own in a tiny humble little place, go on with my day, follow the sun, and my own clock, and learn to find again - and move to -  my own rhythm. 

A quiet living for one.