Cucumber Sword

One of the most intimidating things about living in Helsinki, at least in terms of daily life and trying to get one’s greens inside one’s belly, is purchasing produce. In Finland, customers weigh their own produce and print a price tag for each item before they get to the till. Our visits to the K-Market on our block in Katajanokka were already a bit blearying even without this added challenge. If our minds had the capacity to take in the foreignness of the store and form questions, those questions would take such shape as “Why doesn’t the milk have fat percentages in numbers?” and “Where are the eggs?” and “What is that?” 

After enough trips to the K-Market to get bread and--as is normal here--unrefrigerated eggs, I was out for a brisk walk and noticed courage rising up in me to attempt a produce purchase. I would possibly pick up other things we might need, but success would be measured completely by my departure from the market with something in hand that required weighing. I masked up, marched in, turned right, glanced around at the options and determined that I would buy a cucumber. It made sense: it comes in a single unit, it is individually wrapped (no need to find a bag), and it is easily eaten raw and on its own. The price tag under the cucumber told me that the cucumber’s weighing number was 44. I picked one up, walked the 3 steps over to one of the two scales in the produce section, picked the number 44, and retrieved the little barcode sticker that automatically printed. I stuck the barcode on the cucumber and nonchalantly, as any good Finn would, navigated the exchange of money to legally leave the store with the cucumber. The cashier had no idea what victory had just been won in my purchase of the cucumber. 

I arrived in our studio brandishing it like a sword of victory, feeling like the world had opened up to me. In a small and ridiculous way, it had.