• Dodge several oblivious lane-blockers to get to the “meats” section (which also sells olives).
• Make a face at the annoyingly loud, crackly, Hindi music playing.  Realize it’s so especially annoying because it’s playing through NOKIA CELL PHONE SPEAKERS.
• The “butcher” looks at you and nods, annoyed, so you ask him for “1/2 kilo of mince beef”.
• He puts a hand up to his ear because he can’t hear you over his cell phone music, so you repeat your request in what you think is a comically loud voice.
• He just barely hears you this time, then walks away for several minutes.
• You wait.  And try to not notice the many flies buzzing around the chopping blocks… that are really just Ikea plastic cutting boards.
• Eventually, the butcher reaches his gloved (phew!) hand into the ground beef, and disgusts your boyfriend by “squeezing the meat in between his fingers”.
• The butcher then points to the ground beef that he has piled on the styrofoam tray and looks at you for approval.  You nod.  You nod because you want to get this over with.
• The butcher sloppily wraps the meat, then puts it on the scale.  You notice that it weighs over 3/4th of a kilogram, and wonder how he’s not at least a little better at eyeballing half a kilogram.  Oh well.
• You go and pay for your meat and other items (like Hunts Marina Sauce Plus Pesto, because that’s the only tomato sauce they carry despite carrying 40,000 varieties of tomato paste), and your boyfriend hurriedly bags them because he knows if he lets the regular bag-boy bag them, he will place each item in its own individual bag.

Culture.