Some days we are lucky

We try to stay in our apartment as much as we can, because of the growing threat of COVID-19 infection.  By staying in our apartment, our need is greater for groceries when we finally decide to go to the store.  We usually shop at a large SPAR store in the big mall nearby.  It has most of the things we need, although it still takes us a lot of time to find what we need because we can't read the labels very well.  We are getting better at it, though.  After an hour or so we have a shopping cart full of items.
    Of course, we have to take the car with us on our shopping trips, but when we get back to our apartment, we face two hurdles:  we have to haul the heavy bags up a flight of stairs, and the three 20-minute parking spaces in front of our building are usually full.  We nearly always have to park illegally for 5-15 minutes to get our things inside.  Then we can remove our car and take it to its parking place a half mile away.  But carrying heavy bags up the stairs is the biggest hardship.  I have a gimpy knee and use a cane to help me up the stairs.  Liz also has difficulty on them and has always relied on me to carry the heavy bags.
  If we are lucky, we can arrange to have the young missionaries meet us at the house and they act like it is the greatest privilege in the World to carry our things up the stairs.  But some days we are not so lucky and we have to do it ourselves.  There is always a heavy bag with milk, canned goods, sodas, butter, etc.  Those things seem to bunch up into one bag and it can be a very heavy load.  We are not speaking of the flimsy plastic auto-destruction bags found for free in the U.S.  Here, if you didn't bring your own bags, you have to buy them.  They are several times as big as the flimsies from back home, and they are sturdy, woven plastic, handled bags that last a considerable time.  I can manage one of them while using my cane to climb the stairs.  But, if there are two, my knee will complain for days after.  As my pappy used to say, "getting old isn't for sissies."

Yesterday we visited a store we hadn't realized was here until I was surfing google maps a few days ago.  It is by TUS, a grocery store chain that is common around here.  But the one we visited is TUS Cash and Carry.  When we were in Zagreb, we often shopped for the mission home at Metro Cash and Carry, which is a membership store like Sam's or Costco.  TUS doesn't have a membership, and isn't quite as well supplied as Metro, but it was great.  We bought quantities of things we find hard to find. like ground walnuts, juice, and our favorite cookies and candies.  The prices are noticeably lower than the small stores, so it's more like we are used back home.

I also had a very interesting experience lately.  A few days after we got back with our new car, we parked just outside the three occupied 20-minute parking spaces outside the apartment so we could unload our luggage and stuff we brought back from us, including a recliner chair.  As we finished unloading it started to pour down rain, so we decided to take the car home later.  An hour later, we came down to move and it had a ticket in a red plastic bag on it.  Grrr!  We put the ticket on the window ledge next to the kitchen table so we wouldn't forget it.  Then we had visitors and I didn't want to advertise our ticket, so I picked it up and put it in my shirt pocket.  I didn't give it a thought until last week on laundry day.  I was reminded of it when I tried to iron a shirt with the pocket full of paper shreds.  It was packed in there hard and was hard to get out.  It came out in tiny chunks and there was no hint of what had been written on it.  With a little thought I connected it with the ticket.  The only thing we'd looked at on it was the amount - 20 Euros.
  So I walked up the hill to the police station and found someone who spoke English and explained that I wanted to pay my ticket.  After some confusion they said they don't issue tickets, and advised me to try another agency back down the hill a block.  I went there, found someone who could translate and was told it was probably an agency who has their office in the bus station at the edge of down-town.  I gave up for that day because it was a long way from where I was.
   Next morning I walked the half mile to the bus station and found the office of the agency just as they'd described at the second agency I'd visited the day before.  The lady at the desk spoke excellent English and tried to look up my ticket using my license plate number.  It wasn't in her system, so she asked me if the ticket was for 16 Euros.  I told her it was for 20 Euros and she said then it was from a different agency and their office is across the river in a remote part of town.  I walked back home.
    Next day, we drove out to the remote agency.  The man at the counter didn't speak English and didn't seem to think he should help me find someone who did.  But a man walked by and I asked him to help.  He was able to explain what I needed.  After showing the official the car's license number and explaining, he got out a red plastic envelope and asked if the ticket was in one like it.  I said yes.  Then he said it is a different agency and their office was directly behind me on the other side of the entryway, but it was closed for the day.  He said I could come back next day between 9:00 am and noon.
   So, another day dawned and we made the trip again.  The man at this counter didn't speak English either, but the first guy I'd talked to came over and they talked.   They looked up my license plate, but it seemed like he didn't find it in his records.  We spoke different languages to each other, nobody came by, and finally he waved me away.  I walked out the door not knowing if he waived the fine, couldn't find it, or if the police will come get me.  I went to five (5) agencies trying to give someone 20 Euros, and nobody wants it.
    We are living in a country where we are illiterate.  If we didn't love being here so much, it would be depressing.