We've been here just over four months now and I can say, with a certain amount of embarrassment, that I'm only just feeling confident about what these coins in my wallet are worth (also, purse = wallet here...so confusing when trying to buy a new wallet. I mean, purse. I mean, um, gah, this money is too tall for my bill holding device!). I took a peek back through my posts to try to find the one I wrote about becoming a cultural toddler, but I can't find it, so to recap: I knew I'd have a steep learning curve when we arrived and that the currency would be a big part of that curve. I mean, for starters, they have 20p coins, not quarters. And the shapes are all off-kilter from what I spent thirty years learning. And they sound different when they hit the ground. If I dropped a bit of Canadian change, I had a pretty good chance of making an accurate count of what was there. Here? Not so much. But I'm trying.
Well, here we are, four months in and I've stopped giving shopkeepers helpless looks when they tell me the total. I now reserve those looks for the post office personnel (that's another story). On a good day I can confidently shovel out either the exact change or something approximating the best combination to get the minimal amount in return.
Or at least I thought I could.
Last weekend, in Edinburgh, James and I were at Hula Juicebar getting fuel for the day and a rare event occurred: the task of paying fell to me. I pulled out a mitt full of change and proceeded to come up with a combination that used up as much of the smaller amounts as possible to lighten my load. James lovingly watched on. When I'd handed over the change, feeling quite good about my little victory, James remarked, matter-of-factly, "You could have done better." Apparently there was a more optimal combination that I missed. Seriously? That's how we're starting the day?? Yup.
In an incredibly mature counter-move, I mumbled under my breath, "That's what my mom said" and sipped my juice. In some aspects, it seems, I'm still a bit of a toddler.
