The Pork Rind Aquarium: Our Grocery Store Adventure Abroad

There is a certain rhythm to grocery shopping back home. You push your cart through temperature-controlled aisles, reaching for plastic-wrapped styrofoam trays where steaks and chicken breasts sit uniformly, separated from the shopper by layers of cellophane. It’s sterile, it’s organized, and frankly, it’s a little impersonal.

But travel has a way of shaking up even the most mundane chores, and our recent trip to the local supermarket here was a vivid reminder that we weren't in Canada anymore. It’s an experience that hits you with a mix of initial shock and genuine fascination. This is not exactly how we are used to selecting our meat back home in the large grocery chains.

Alongside the vertical fridges with neat rows, we were greeted by coolers and freezers on wheels, positioned right in the middle of the aisles with a constant flow of traffic in and around and hovered over them. These weren't filled with boxed frozen dinners; they were loaded with exposed product, piled high in raw, glorious abundance.

We watched, fascinated, as locals grabbed plastic bags and went to work. There is no pre-selection here. You have to get involved. You grab a bag and help yourself, rummaging through the heap to find the choice pieces of pork shoulder or the perfect marinated chicken wings. It’s a tactile, communal experience—you are literally digging for your dinner.

It wasn't just the meat. We walked past long troughs filled with crushed ice where whole fish lay waiting. No fillets, no de-boning—just whole, fresh fish staring back at you. It forces you to confront exactly where your food comes from, stripping away the sanitized barrier we’ve grown so accustomed to back home.

But the absolute showstopper? We turned a corner and stopped dead in our tracks. There, sitting proudly in the aisle, was what looked like an oversized fish aquarium.

But there were no tropical fish swimming in this tank. Instead, it was filled with massive, golden shards of deep-fried pork rinds (chicharrones).

We aren't talking about the little bags of chips you find at a gas station. These were sheet-sized slabs of crispy skin, warmed by heat lamps, looking like prehistoric fossils on display. It was a beautiful, cholesterol-laden work of art.

Moments like these remind us why we travel. It’s easy to stay in the comfort zone of what we know, but "rummaging" for your dinner gives you a newfound appreciation for the freshness of the food and the culture that surrounds it.