Four Days In

We went to the mall today for groceries. It sounds so mundane- yay shopping! People all over the world go shopping and it isn't a terribly special event, and perhaps it isn't in and of itself. But, I'm here to tell you one small Saturday shopping trip was quite an enlightening experience.

It used to be almost amusing to find the cheap re-creations of Western consumerism that are so prevalent around town (“Evan water,” “Made in Fance,” and “Buffalo Wings Restaurant” come to mind). However, it is perplexing to find so many emulations of the West when there are so many lovely little stores, markets, and shops that a might be advertised as "authentically Jordanian" or at the very least "locally owned". Why, oh why, then would seemingly everyone in Amman desire the cheap rip-offs of Western brands? The answer became clear to me today after one trip through the vegetable section of the grocery store.

First, I want to illustrate our locale: haphazardly organized aisles precariously stocked with coffees, cans, and teetering towers of khobz (bread). Shopping trolleys scattered all about the aisles create a traffic jam near the pomegranate stand, while shreds of organic lettuce are trampled on the floor amidst the chaos. Piles of vegetables are strewn about the stands with little organization; citrus fruit heaped next to eggplants, and apples sandwiched between onions and potatoes. In the chaos, signs indicating prices have fallen to the wayside, or underfoot, though if they did survive, their labeling only worsened the confusion. Two separate piles were labeled "البصل الأبيض" or white onion, but only one vegetable appeared to be a type of onion, and the other was actually acorn squash. Amidst the visual clutter, a soundtrack of clerks arguing pricing, fathers and mothers calling for crying children, and groups of teenagers laughing while browsing the aisles continuously played, shouting at me in some unintelligible Arabic slang. Trying to shop was almost impossible- I was exhausted by the constantly chaotic overtures of other locals and my inability to find a path through the clutter.

It was upon our exit from the vegetable area (and the slow reassembly of my wits) that it occurred to me that I had just witnessed a remarkable mishmash of cultural experiences. Instantaneously recognizable, bright produce laid out in troughs and well lit under fluorescents enticed shoppers, while thin plastic bags hung next to scales on every corner stand, and weary mothers planned this week’s dinners with a list in hand.

It was almost like being back home in a Trader Joe’s or a Kroger, but the atmosphere of the whole place was distinctly Arab: the constant chatter amongst shoppers lamenting produce prices (despite the cheapness; only a dollar for three of the largest eggplants I’ve ever seen- choose your battles, people!), the utter disregard for traffic flow, and the lack of attention to the line for checkout all paralleled life on the outside. The same habits that pervaded Amman’s streets and souks were just as common in the well-lit and air-conditioned supermarket.

Though I had initially dismissed the megastore as yet another cheaply produced copy of any large American grocery store, I realized this was not the case at all. Rather, it was a marriage of both the American method of consumerism and the Jordanian attitude of shopping. In theory, all the produce is supposed to be laid out and made to look desirable, clearly labeled, and easily accessible, but at the same time you can argue over the listed price for a vegetable that’s been given the wrong price, piled with the lettuce instead of the fruit, and mislabeled as a banana when it’s actually a pear.

I dub this phenomenon the Supermarket Souk, available for access only off a sketchy alleyway near a main road, and not where it says “Entrance.”