Billa

The beer sits in stacks, and the individual boxes and bottles aren’t labeled. Above there a couple rows of signs, all advertising prices, though I can’t figure out which prices are for which bottles because, besides the brand names, there are several other words I don’t understand, and each brand name has a few different varieties which I can’t find, or don’t have the persistence to find, on the signs marking the price.

The only one I can definitely tell the price of is the beer called PRIMUS, which is the cheapest, and comes in 1.5 liter plastic bottles. I don’t buy that one. But I will soon.

There is a deposit of three crowns per bottle, I’ve been told, and the beer ranges between 8-12 crowns per half liter bottle on the signs, though I’m not sure if that includes the deposit.

            Box of rice for less than a dollar. Score.

            Rows of assorted breads and pastries, all quite cheap and tasty. The Czechs know how to make bread in its solid and liquid form.

            I go to pay and notice most people who have purchased pastries all have one kind, and have tied their bag together. I have several different kinds, but I tie my bag together anyways and hope for the best. The woman at the register thumbs her way through them and in a matter of seconds enters each price individually from memory. She seems pissed. Next time I decide to limit the variety.

            There aren’t bags, but luckily I have my backpack on. The last thing I want to do is make the cashier more irritated than she already seems, than most everyone here seems to be at first, while simultaneously revealing how American I am – something I would like to think, probably incorrectly, I have kept hidden until now – by having to inquire, in English, if they happen to have an extra bag around for my groceries.

I get home and find, inside the rice box, four plastic bags, each filled with rice and containing a slit at the top. On the back there are instructions, and I understand the pictures. Apparently I am supposed to slide a spoon through the slit and steep the rice for some amount of time before pouring it into the water. Besides not having the patience for this, the idea of boiling a flimsy plastic bag with my food doesn’t appeal to me. I cook it like normal rice, and it turns out about how I expect a meal for a quarter would.

The beer tastes good, even warm. Two more and I can get another bottle free.