The purpose of travelling is, at best, to measure the extent of cultural differences. An exercise mostly practiced during trivial activities, such as shopping at the supermarket.

1. AT THE SUPERMARKET IN PROVENCE
Intimate Confessions at the Deli Counter
The purpose of travelling is, at best, tomeasure the extent
of cultural differences. Anexercise mostly practicedduring
trivial activities, suchas shopping at the supermarket.
CUSTOMERS IN
DISPERSED ORDER
A single employee, masked, with a worried look, slightly elevated behind
the ten-meter-longL-shapedcounterwhere a dozen customersin scattered
order are trying to establisheye contact with her, one handresting ontheir
shoppingcart.
Behind the quichesand pies, she doesn’tcare to find out. She heads towards
the paunchy manin the pink Lacoste who, I’msure, arrived after us. Besides,
he didn’ttake a numberfrom the ticket machine. He doesn’tcare, looks
straightahead flagrantly disregarding other customers arrived before him.
"I’dlove to try the summertruffle pâté back there." I turn around. It’sthe
dark-eyedblondeto my right. Sheclutches her numberbetween her thumb
andforefinger: 67. And there she goes!

2. MY CALF AND
MY MOTHER
In abouttenminutes, I learn thatshe haslost her sense of smell. Covid but
notonly. When she got infected, she was already undergoingtreatment
because she hadpolypsin her nose. I act interested. "I don’tmindwaiting,
althoughI didpull my calf muscle. I still went to work. Eight hourson my feet
in the bakery. Well, if I wear heels, it’s okay, it’sbearable." I look down and
see that she is, indeed, wearing white patent leather bootswith square toes
clashing with her light floral cottondress.
"Fortunately, thelady who takes care of my mothergave me a cream that
relieves my pain. The one whocomes in the evening, becauseit takesa lot of
people to take care of her, to wash her, to dothe household... They come
andgo all day long." I learn againthat her 91-year-oldmotherstilllives at
home. Sure, she’shadAlzheimer’s for ten years, butthe disease progresses
slowly. "It’snotlike her neighborColette, who is not yet 60. Her husbandhad
to puther in a specialized institution. He couldn’thandleit anymore."
The deli employee movedtothe other end of the refrigerated counter to
serve a retired couple.
COVID AND
ALZHEIMER
"Andyour mom, shedidn’tcatch Covid?" This gets the conversationgoing
again. "No, she didn’tget it, butmy husbanddid. He’salready handicapped
since his car accident. He was in the hospitalfor five days."
She continues, "My mother’sweak pointis her intestines, if you see what I
mean...". Yes, I see very well what youmean. "Fortunately, my father takes
care of changingher diapers several timesa day." Her disabled, covid
husband, herstrainedcalf and the inability of her nose to appreciate scents
andsmells, her aging parentsand her daysspentselling baguettes and
fougasses. I tell myself I am lucky.
I wave my crumpled piece of paper with the number66 at the employee,
who is now indolently scanningthe customersscattered from one end of the
counter tothe other. As I doso, I think tomyself that sucha conversation
with a stranger at the deli counterof a supermarketwouldbe unimaginable
at my Migros. Customerswouldstandsilently in line and respect
social distancing. The only words uttered (by an oldwoman or by a Swiss
strictly abidingby the rules of etiquette) in this situationin Switzerland, I
imagine, wouldbe addressedtothe man in the pink Lacoste: "Entschuldigung,
welli i Nummerehänd Sie?"*
* Whatnumberdo youhave?
Sylvie Castagné
Saint-Tropez, September2021