Peanut, Peanut Butter

This morning I fulfilled the usual family breakfast orders. A bowl of Sultana Bran for Indy (Raisin Bran to those of you ten time zones away), cheesy scrambled eggs for Stylish, and a slice of peanut butter toast for me. I noticed the peanut butter was getting pretty low, so I looked in the pantry for another jar. No peanut butter. I started to hyperventilate, then I had a heart attack and died.

Not really. But I could have. This is a disaster; I was sure I had one more jar. In fact, I'm going to go check again right now.

I'm back. No peanut butter. "Amy," I hear you saying, "stop being so dramatic. Get off your keister and go buy some more." Well, smarty pants, I can't. Because there isn't any. There is no more peanut butter on this island. And who knows when more will arrive?

Any right-minded person departing the cosy environs of North America quickly learns two things. One: always carry a credit card and your passport; those two items will cover almost all situations. Two: take your own peanut butter. Because the unsweetened yucky weirdness that other countries will sell you under the peanut butter name is inedible. I am pretty sure it is flavoured with the tears of the damned. The only sensible thing to do is to buy Kraft Smooth in bulk and hide it in your luggage when you leave home. Really, one has no choice. For the past four years, whenever my parents visited us, they brought peanut butter and bags of decent Darjeeling. Always. And I did my utmost to stretch those items until their next visit.

In our current location, there are two grocery stores. And they stock food. Some of it is local, some from Australia. But going to the grocery store here is rather like buying a mystery grab bag at the carnival. You have absolutely no idea what will be inside. Some days/weeks/months, there is no coffee. Sometimes onions are nowhere to be seen. I have never found a tin of kidney beans in this place, and long-time readers will understand how hard that is for me. Spices, cooking oil, and even milk can be simply missing from the shelves. And don't even get me started on fresh fruit and vegetables. When something fresh comes into the little store down the street - a space smaller than my living room - frantic texts race through the community: "Snow peas in the deli!!!" "Carrots back in!!!" "BROCCOLI!!!" We are vitamin addicts yearning for a fix.

How to cope? Anyone who goes to Australia, be it for business or pleasure, normally takes a small, precious wishlist. And once in a while, the Powers That Be organize a communal shop called The Woolies Order, named for the Woolworths chain of grocery stores. The idea is simple. We, the hungry, order our food online, have it delivered to a certain depot, it gets repackaged, tossed onto a container ship, and sent up here. Ten weeks later we pay the duty and receive the goods. As efficient home delivery as one will find in PNG. Clearly you can't buy perishables or anything that will melt (like chocolate), but still. Better than nothing.

I missed the September Woolies order by mere days. But, no problem; wasn't I a seasoned provisioner? I scoffed at the need to import little treats from Oz. By the time the January order rolled around, I was low on Easi-yo packets and still craving beans. But the long lag time meant the order would arrive just before we were supposed to move away, so there wasn't any point. I looked enviously at my friends who had stashed a bag or two of salt & vinegar chips, or granola bars for lunch boxes. Or those darn beans. But I had a fresh supply of peanut butter from Canada. I could tough it out.

But now the peanut butter is gone. Even the weird Buddy's peanut butter. And I haven't seen any for sale in weeks. We've extended our stay. Now what?

The next Woolie's order is supposed to go out at the end of May. When I'll be back on Papillon with Erik and the girls, moving the boat to Australia. So I will miss it for the third time. I guess I'll just have to stuff my suitcase with tiny jars of Australian PB on the way home and hope the local stores decide to re-up on peanut butter in my absence.

I suppose I could try eating something different for breakfast. No, that's crazy talk. I'll find another way.