It took nearly a month of living in Indonesia, but tucked away on the back wall of the supermarket we found this….


bacon. chorizo. three kinds of ham. sausages.

I felt a bit ashamed at my glee at our purchase as the Muslim cashier scanned our items across the barcode reader.  I wondered if our desire for a ham and cheese sandwich was somehow disruptive and she’d have to take a break to go pray or clean her hands in a special way.

Somehow hoping it would lessen my guilt and serve as some sort of non-verbal apology, I gave exact change.  I didn’t forget to use both hands accepting our bags or to say “Thank you” solemnly in Bahasa.

But then, she just smiled and called the next customer forward.


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