We have been living in Europe for
almost a year and I still haven't mastered the loose change. The
Euro centimos, denominated in 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, and 50 centimos as
well as 1 and 2 euro coins resemble each other so much that it is
difficult for me without my reading glasses to tell apart the 1's,
2's and 5's; the 10's, 20's and 50's; and the 1 and 2 euro coins. As
a result, rather than bother fumbling with the change, we collect it
into a huge pile on the boat and keep breaking bills, which,
thankfully, are easy to tell apart. After a while, though, I grit my
teeth and embark on a mission to spend the change the next time we
have to go shopping.
Today was the day to do that here in
Empedocle, Sicily. So, armed with a small Ziploc bag crammed with
coins, Maggie and I ventured into town to buy stuff. We went to the
Carrefour and bought a couple of excellent bottles of red wine (which
we are sipping as I write this and the sun sets) and some apples for
4.35 euros. At the check out, I had in hand my wallet with the bills
I was hoping not to break and my baggie full of change. The lovely
cashier-lady looked at my baggie and said something in Italian which
I gathered was to question if I wanted to use the change. With that
said, I gave her the bag and she proceeded to count out the change.
There were only a few euro coins and mostly 1,2, 5, and 10 centimo
copper coins because we had been on a spending spree with the larger
coins earlier in the day.
When she began counting, nobody was in
line behind us but soon a queue grew and there was a tiny bit of
grumbling. The cashier-lady smiled and waved them off. Then she
lost count and had to start over, still smiling. I stood there
sheepishly self-conscious (in our typically polite, apologetic
Canadian manner) that I was wasting everybody's time and was about to break down and offer to break a bill when she finished, looked up and
asked me something which I took to mean “you don't have enough for
the bill; do you have any more change?” I shrugged my
non-comprehension and people in the line started asking which
language I spoke. I replied, “English, Croatian, and a little
Spanish” and got no intelligible response. A man asked if I spoke
German. So I handed her a fiver and the lady took it and a bunch of
change and gave me a couple of shiny euro coins. Mission
accomplished: the pile of change had shrunk and my pants were no
longer being dragged down with metal as I lurched down the street
like the Ghost of Christmas Past.
We have been away from Canada for a
while now, so maybe I am forgetting how things are done there, but I
am pretty sure I couldn't go anywhere and hand someone a bag of coins
to pay for my groceries nor anything else.
We also visited Greek ruins in the
Valley of the Temples near Agrigento and they were marvellous. Try
doing that in Canada, too.
Branko
P.S. I apologize for sounding like I am being harsh on Canada. I am not – really – I'm just saying is
all.
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