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Shopping
Had a really nice, relaxing weekend after a terribly hectic week. The sun has been blistering and I´ve enjoyed just sitting out on the balcony, relaxing and reading. This was less a choice than something that was forced on me because I didn´t have enough cash even to just mooch on the Ramblas, but that was okay.
Due to various surprise!bills and miscalculations, plus only receiving half a month´s pay last month, I´m down to my last fifteen Euros until I get paid on Wednesday. I was all annoyed because I thought I´d be living on chips and my precious imported curry for a week, only to die of scurvy. The money´s going further than I thought, though.
I picked up a load of fresh asparagus for one Euro, green peppers and potatoes for fifty cents or thereabouts each, lemons for a few cents, chickpeas and lentils for 32 cents each and beef steak for a couple of Euros. Top that off with a bottle of red wine for 98 cents and I´m eating pretty damned well for not having any money. I made a nice Sunday roast today, but with a Spanish twist. It was damned tasty, even if I do say so myself. As for the rest of the week, I only really eat salad when I get in after work because I´m so dehydrated and tired after tackling the hill o´Do0m to get home, so I´m sorted in that department.
Shopping for meat is quite stressful, to be honest. I worked out that ´cerdo´ referred to pork, which I avoid, but the descriptions switch between Spanish (which I can follow) and Catalan (which likes trick descriptions), so I´ve focused on teaching myself the names in both languages for all cuts and types of meat. Couple that with stuff like rabbits tending to come with big, staring blue eyes still intact and poultry with head still attached and it´s still pretty much a learning process. I feel like an ignorant, sheltered softie sometimes and whilst I don´t come the asshat and grimace at these things in public, inside my guts are churning. It´s to my eternal lulz, though, that every time I go to get my produce weighed, nobody knows what parsnips are called in Catalan and they have to scramble to find the explanatory list. Ahahahaa.
Due to various surprise!bills and miscalculations, plus only receiving half a month´s pay last month, I´m down to my last fifteen Euros until I get paid on Wednesday. I was all annoyed because I thought I´d be living on chips and my precious imported curry for a week, only to die of scurvy. The money´s going further than I thought, though.
I picked up a load of fresh asparagus for one Euro, green peppers and potatoes for fifty cents or thereabouts each, lemons for a few cents, chickpeas and lentils for 32 cents each and beef steak for a couple of Euros. Top that off with a bottle of red wine for 98 cents and I´m eating pretty damned well for not having any money. I made a nice Sunday roast today, but with a Spanish twist. It was damned tasty, even if I do say so myself. As for the rest of the week, I only really eat salad when I get in after work because I´m so dehydrated and tired after tackling the hill o´Do0m to get home, so I´m sorted in that department.
Shopping for meat is quite stressful, to be honest. I worked out that ´cerdo´ referred to pork, which I avoid, but the descriptions switch between Spanish (which I can follow) and Catalan (which likes trick descriptions), so I´ve focused on teaching myself the names in both languages for all cuts and types of meat. Couple that with stuff like rabbits tending to come with big, staring blue eyes still intact and poultry with head still attached and it´s still pretty much a learning process. I feel like an ignorant, sheltered softie sometimes and whilst I don´t come the asshat and grimace at these things in public, inside my guts are churning. It´s to my eternal lulz, though, that every time I go to get my produce weighed, nobody knows what parsnips are called in Catalan and they have to scramble to find the explanatory list. Ahahahaa.
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Where this causes problems is if you're a call centre overseas, trying to induce Danes to come over here to work - if they aren't making themselves UK residents, then they'll still pay taxes back in Denmark - and 95% of the UK minimum wage would leave you eating your own shoelaces. The only solution is to find Danes who are already resident, or get hold of some Swedes who speak Danish...
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The idea of 95% taxes makes me die inside, but I have heard that the Danish system is more effective than that of the UK, so I suppose it works.
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