The Great Coke Zero Shortage of 2012

I have my guilty pleasures in life.  I'll own it.

One of them is Coke Zero.

I know it is not good for me.  I know there is no nutritional value whatsoever.  I know it's bad for my teeth, and we get delicious and clean water delivered.  I know all this.

But I love my Coke Zero irrationally and without any sign of abating.  There are some things that aren't worth fighting.

Oh Coke Zero!  You make the worst days seem not so bad...

There is a problem now, though.  We used to be able to order Coke Zero anywhere.  At Nando's, at Galitos, at the various local restaurants (such delicious Indian food - who knew I would find such wonderful curried delicacies in Africa?).  I could get it at the supermarket and at the small stores - bottle or can, Coke Zero was everywhere. 

It was a beautiful time. 

All good things come to an end, however, and my dalliance with Coke Zero was no exception.  We've been able to find it in glass bottles in a few places, and sometimes the cans are available at one grocery store or another.  But lately the pickings have been sparse and far between.   It has been a bit of a let-down to indulge in a Peri Peri wrap at Nando's and wash it down with water.

Spoiled, I know.  But it was the experience of the whole thing, and that experience included Coke Zero. 

It makes me a little nervous.  I know there is no Coke Zero shortage in the United States - actually, I usually go with Coke Zero Cherry there, which I refer to as Coke All the Things! - and I'm fairly sure Coke is not in any imminent danger.  But then, I didn't see the death of Hostess coming, so my business sense might be off-kilter.  I'm not sure when I'll recover from that one.  I would have stockpiled if I had known it was coming.

Which leads me to the African shopping (for food) experience.  

I currently have 8 packets of Butter Chicken sauce in my pantry, six packets of mushroom sauce, several gallon sized bags of Splenda packets, and nine different types of noodles (just a sampling).  In the United States we call people with these sorts of numbers hoarders and humiliate them on national TV before sending them to treatment programs.  Here, it is a necessary survival mechanism.

For instance, last week the husband and I were at the store getting the necessary items for dinner when I spotted the packets of mushroom sauce.  

Me:  WHEN DID THEY GET THESE?  HOW MANY ARE THERE?Husband:  SixMe:  Take them all!  Quickly!  Before someone else sees we are interested in them!

The husband quickly grabbed the packets just as another woman was swooping down upon us, sharp eyes spotting the sauce from the other end of the aisle.  I was familiar with her glare - I've given that look many a time myself when someone else has snagged the last bottle of teriyaki from under my nose.  It's the look of a practiced Third World shopper - someone who knows that, unlike a US Safeway, that may be the only cornstarch that ships in for six months.  You have to act now and act fast if you plan on making any pie.

It took me one week of living here to go full-shopping-commando.  One week.  

This means that trips to the grocery store are never for one item.  You never buy only milk or yogurt - excuse me, yoghurt.  And anyone who runs in and out of the store without perusing every aisle is crazy.  You might miss the pretzel sticks!  

Don't get me wrong - there is plenty of food here.  A person is not going to starve - there is always some sort of fruit and/or vegetable, always meat, always mayo, always mealie meal, always flour, etc.  It's the specialty items that cycle in and out, seemingly on whim.  And the prices of some of the things we take for granted in the US - like Crisco and Spaghettios - are astronomical.  

Did I mention tuna?  Dolphin safe tuna in cans that aren't expired can get pricey as well.  One of the local stores had a special on tuna that saw me battling it out with another lady for the last four cans.  The Hunger Games had nothing on the scene that unfolded in Game that day.   

You develop an entirely different attitude living here when it comes to shopping and food preparation, even children's clothing!  And I can't say that it's affected us in a bad way.  

One thing I appreciate about my children, about the people we meet living here who are originally from the US and Europe, is that there is a sense of absolute appreciation for how easy things are back home. It took coming to live here for my kids to understand you can't always solve things with a trip to the grocery store.  

Unfortunately, it also means that every trip back to the US involves about four hours staring at the many varieties of salsa in Target.  

Whatever.  Six months ago I would have thought that hunting for Coke Zero and buying ten packages of Bolognese sauce would be the end of the world.  Now I see finding and bringing home the last six packages as a form of victory.  It's the new version of completing a successful hunt.  I launch myself out of our car and dash into the house, purchases held high and bearing the scars of battle, shouting, "TONIGHT WE WILL HAVE LINGUINI ALFREDO!" And the children greet me like a conquering hero.  

Sketchy Roads, Sleeping Technicians, and an Ode to Twinkies

It's kind of hard to update a blog when your internet is not working.  And this, in the last three weeks, is the predicament we found ourselves in.

One of the biggest problems here is customer service - as in, there is none.  So when we notified our internet provider (which I won't name directly, but happens to rhyme with the phrase "Shmem-Tee-Mem") that our internet was cutting out and making it not only impossible to download anything but nearly impossible to even check or reply to email, they said they'd fix it right away.

Three weeks later, it was still broken.

It seems to be mostly fixed now, although the internet is still "flickering", as I call it.  But the icing on the cake was when the technician came to our house to reinstall the equipment they claimed was faulty and fell asleep in my husband's chair at his desk.

I just wasn't sure how to respond to that, other than to wake him up and tell him it wasn't acceptable.  And that was how a five minute job turned into a 45 minute job.  Well, three weeks and forty-five minutes.

I've also turned into quite the daredevil driver lately.  There's really no way to remain timid here and get wherever you need to go.  You must force your way into lanes, hold out your hand and hope someone slows down as you dart into the oncoming traffic.

They don't always slow down, in which case it becomes a game of Chicken - who will blink first.  In order to win this game of chicken, you must have a larger car, a pointing finger that you shake at someone, and a stern expression.  In addition, you must choose your opponents very carefully - it would never do to try and dart in front of someone important; they will run you over, get of their car, pull you out, and proceed to teach you the lessons your mother should have beaten into your head before you hit adulthood.  It's just not polite to challenge someone more important.

I should also mention that there are traffic lights here - most of them just don't work.  And apparently it is acceptable to run a red light if no one is coming.  At least, I see it several times a day.

In addition to low speed Chicken (you will never get above forty miles an hour here, and that's hauling serious ass), you have to figure your way around and be willing to drive in some sketchy places if you run into an accident.  It could take hours to clear, and you don't want to be stuck on Alick Nkhata Road for hours.

A traffic accident is how we ended up on this road one day.

As you can see, there is enough room for our truck and about three inches on either side.  Had another car decided to turn down this road (which wasn't a one way), we would have been in quite a pickle.  Had someone decided to walk down this road, we would have had to do some quick thinking.  

Luckily neither of those things happened, and one very helpful local offered to run to the end of the street and wave off any possible oncoming traffic for us, for which we tipped him several pin.  He waved quite exuberantly when we turned and drove off.  

Another fun game we like to play is Identify the T-Shirt.  Usually this consists of seeing college t-shirts or sweatshirts and matching them up to whichever friend we have that attended that college back home.  So far we've matched Auburn, A&M, George Mason, Michigan, Nebraska, and Notre Dame.  We've seen several colleges we haven't matched as well, Dartmouth being the top of the list and including (but not lastly) University of Maryland University College.  

But the best shirt we've seen so far (other than the guy wearing the Little Mermaid shirt) was the one from a dental clinic in Webster, Texas.  

Why is this so awesome, you ask?  Because we've been there.  And it makes me giggle to encounter Webster, Texas in Africa. 

I'll close with this thought - Twinkies.  

When I'm here, there are things I miss about the US that leave me daydreaming about a return visit, and Twinkies are pretty high on that list.  It comes down to a dead-draw between Twinkies and Zingers, and the winner fluctuates.  

So with the news that Hostess has gone under and my next trip back to the US won't involve the guilty pleasure of hiding away in my hotel room with a plate of nachos, a box of Twinkies, and trashy reality TV (I may have a problem that requires some sort of 12 Step program), I'm wondering if it is even worth it to take time for that visit.  Out of a sense of sanity self-preservation, I learned to make Twinkies from scratch here, and they are good.  Very good.  Actually, I think the filling I use is light years better.

And it is good for my waistline to have to make Twinkies anytime I want to eat Twinkies.  There are no midnight sneaks down to the pantry while everyone is asleep and when calories don't count (or so I tell myself).  

But still.  It is the end of an era, indeed.  And the generic Swiss Roll version of Ho Hos just doesn't float my boat.