The British Invasion

So there’s a supermarket near our house, which we refer to as the “pork store.” It is one of two stores on the island that sells pork. We are lucky one of them is near us. It has a completely separate room in the store that exclusively sells pork products. (They even sell the Jell-O in this room, that’s how strictly the pork is segregated)

My first impression of the expat population here is that it is overwhelmingly British. I don’t know if it’s true, but 9 out of 10 expats I’ve met are from the UK. This store is completely geared toward people from the UK. There are rows of baked beans, spotted dick, and a million kinds of marmalades (yeah, however stereotypical, it’s what I always thought British people eat. Apparently, so does the supermarket buyer).

My first visit there, I was surprised to see so many white faces! Every single customer was Caucasian. Since then I’ve come to the conclusion that this must be an expat grocery store. It feels like I’m cheating when I go there; like I took a trip to NYC and ate at Olive Garden or something. I feel like I should be shopping with the natives instead.