Buying stuff

I've finally installed myself in my new downtown dwelling. The "Shangrelah", physically speaking, has nothing to do with my recollection of it on that first nighttime visit; hell, it isn't even called "the Shangrelah". However, the view from my balcony (see above) remains the best in town and so does the promiscuous ambience of its interior. The room itself is tiny and furnished like a ship's cabin; I think Pablo Neruda, if not in his less frivolous moods, would enjoy it. As for myself, it's simply perfect. So now, how was I to exploit my promotion to the twelfth floor? Buying stuff, I guess.

It's at the shopping centers and supermarkets where North American lifestyle admits to its true obsessions. Flexy-fit wristbands with super absorbent nano-cells, the Flash-tron Pacer Pro digital pedometer, Hypercharge "+" Energy Drink in spout-nosle bottle and the all new Mystique Essentials Aromatherapy bath salts with massaging micro-crystalls; all designed to turn a jog in the park into a lucrative source of income. And in conditions of a "healthy" and "prosperous" economy, consumer society caters to the gluttonous desires of every lifestyle and age-group, no potential market untapped; from Fanny scratch-on diapers with allergy-proof lining to the Acousto Maxima-2000 hearing aid. Everyone with half a dime in their pocket -or with one yet to be made- will be served.

Shop open times are extensive to assure unobstructed access to merchandise and services, while help in developing one's consumer habits is always readily offered;

"would you like some assistance in carrying your groceries to your car, sir?" inquired the concerned employee at the cash register.

"I don't have a car."

"...(blink, blink)... oh then..." no trained response to handle this situation it seems.

It's difficult not to make the comparison to the shopping culture of German supermarkets where one limits his list of desirables depending on the size of the once full of tetra-packs cardboard box he finds amongst the shelves in order to carry off his groceries on the back of his bike. A transatlantic visitor would be stumped by the fact that there are only two brands of canned mushrooms or margarine (one generic and one eponymous). On the other hand, one can marvel at the plethora of salami and sausages to be had, paralleled only by the vast assortment of over-the-counter drugs and food supplements found in North American supermarkets. And as you stand in the winding lines at the German checkout counters, puzzled that most of the other consumers can carry their items to purchase in a single hand, you would soon find an unanticipated source of tranquility in the absence of the minute-intervaled jubilant announcements of the "amazing" offer of buy-one-get-one-free extra-strenghth, super-absorbent, 3-ply toilet paper packages on aisle 5, or the "fantastic" all new ultra-slim, safe-guard maxi-pads with comfort flap technology on aisle 12; I'v always found myself wondering how her perky voice would sound if she ever ran out of amphetamine.