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| ^ Best Cook |
But eating pasta with friends is better.
Studying abroad is more than just packing a
suitcase and learning how to fend for yourself on trains. You also have to know
how to do your own laundry, record your expenses, and … make food.
I was pretty confident in my pasta making
abilities, but I didn’t think I was so lazy that I’d miss having a large frozen
vegetables section at a grocery store. The lack of preservatives in my food and
the long weekend trips I took deterred me from buying groceries in bulk like I
was so used to in the United States. In fact, the last time I had bought a full
load of groceries was back in 12th grade when my parents attempted to instill
the smallest bit of adulthood into me. I spent the first year of college eating
dining hall food, and “getting groceries” meant ensuring I had a decent stock of
Belvita breakfast biscuits and Oreos. In Metz, I now was tasked with making use of
a mini fridge, microwave, and two hot plates.
Since we were in a pretty suburban area, things
were far away enough to require transportation, but the grocery store just
wasn’t far away enough to merit wasting a bus ticket to get to. So I’d walk in
the hot sun. I’d try to remember all the fruits and veggies I’d need, and I’d
try to find interesting supplies to cook something new with.
Once the challenge of deciding what to get was
over, I had the challenge of having to carry my groceries back. The
heat, the worry of eggs cracking in my clumsy hands, the countless glass jars
of pasta sauce I promised myself I’d use all just aggravated me too much! If
you saw me in these moments of pain, you’d probably say I was ready to punch
someone. Or just drop all my bags in the middle of the narrow sidewalk and call
it quits.
This went on for a few weeks, but then my
grocery load slowly decreased as I began to cut down on what I considered
“essentials”. I limited my breakfast to croissants and my dinner to eggs. I had
grown so lazy that waiting 15 minutes for my pasta to cook was just too much.
I’d come back home from classes (thank god lunch was provided at the school
cafeteria), pass out on my bed (I blame the heat again), and then wake up late
with just enough energy to make a scrambled egg and then pass out again. The
limited wifi I had didn’t really help the situation. I had no motivation to
message my friends and see what their dinner plans were. I spent my nights
alone, occasionally staying up to study or do homework. In all honesty, I
probably ate half as much as I did in the States just out of laziness.
Soon, the nap - eat an egg - sleep pattern
became a classic routine my travel mates were aware of. But one day, I decided
to defy the odds. I finally joined them for a family dinner of spaghetti and
meatballs (or whatever meat was available really). We all got together in an
apartment, played music, opened up a bottle of wine, and split up the oh-so
arduous work that went behind preparing spaghetti. We shared laughs, burnt
meat, pans, and dirty dishes. I realized that I was being a fool for not taking
part in these group dinners earlier. As the semester progressed, this gathering
became something fun that we all looked forward to after our days in class. Not
once would we complain about the quality of the food we ate. Of course, we’d
move on to fancier dishes like grilled cheese and tomato soup (I helped prepare
this one) every once in a while, but we stuck to what was most economical.
We just enjoyed each others company and had a good time.
These group dinners really created a sense of
community and friendship among us. So much so that one night I was stuck at our
campus studying for French exam I had coming up, so I couldn’t attend the group
dinner. My friends reached out to me, asking me if I was 100% unable to attend.
I told them it’d be fine- I’d revert to my simple egg dinner. But they wouldn’t
allow it. To my surprise, a friend went out of his way to stop by the library
and hand me my share of that night’s menu. It was minced meat and two buns of bread (they ran out of the pasta they had made so two buns was the next best option). It wasn’t much, but it was
more than I could even ask for-- and way more fulfilling than an egg. I
realized how grateful I was for these people. Not many people take the extra step to look after a friend's dinner on a long night. Everyone usually has their own stuff going on, and I set the precedent that I don't need help getting through a long night. It
may not have taken too long for them to do for me, but the thoughtfulness of it
was heartwarming. It reminded me that sometimes, it is the simple things that show the most compassion to those you interact with daily.
Now that I’m back in the US and no longer on a
freshman meal plan, I’ve been cooking more often. I’ve transitioned myself away
from just eggs and pasta, but whenever those meals do come up, I’m
reminded of that hot summer they served as my lovely staples for survival.
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