Backstory: A few weeks ago my husband and I tried out a sushi restaurant that just opened up in the neighborhood. At the table next to us, a dad ordered a table full of items for his two girls, who looked to be about five and two years old. No one complained or whined or insisted she was no longer eating things that were green (or raw or gooey). The two-year-old gobbled up salmon roe like they were jelly beans. It was amazing to watch—so inspiring! When I was growing up, I wouldn’t touch fish unless it was smothered in breadcrumbs and deep fried. And (and this is a tad embarrassing) I didn’t have my first sushi until I was in my 30s. Even now, I order the same things pretty much every time we go out.

Ruts. If I’m honest with myself, I have too many. I need to shake up my routines and expand my experiences. So for this week’s Nudge, I am going to check out a store that is new to me and wander for inspiration. Maybe I’ll go to a spice shop. Maybe I’ll pop into a bakery that creatively blends traditional flavors with contemporary culinary tricks. Or maybe I’ll just go to the big, beautiful, brand-new Whole Foods that’s nearby and see what’s in season.

What looks intriguing to you this week?

What Happened: My first thought was to visit our local farmers’ market, but it’s only held on Sunday mornings, and we almost always have something else to do at that time (see family or friends, go for a bike ride, sleep in). I also didn’t want to take my chances of putting this Nudge off all week and screwing it up (see Nudged: Wander an expensive store). My second pick was a decades-old produce market neighbors have raved about. Apparently it’s like an every-day farmers’ market, and generations of my friends’ families have made it their go-to shop for local fruits and veggies. Perfect!

But as my darling husband and I discussed the Nudge, he suggested I go way outside my comfort zone. Way, waaaaay outside.

“What about the Chinese market you always walk past?” he asked.

“But I wouldn’t know what anything was.”

“Exactly. You’d have to ask, How do you make this? What’s it good in?”

Hmmm…. Wise man, my guy.

So, while out and about walking errands in our neighborhood, between picking up a prescription at Target and returning books to the library, I paused at the Chinese market. Out front I spotted pineapples and ginger roots in bins. I wasn’t completely lost. Encouraged, I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

It was a little like stepping through a portal to another country. The signs were all written in Chinese, and I recognized very little of the packaged goods. Even the packages that had English translations were baffling. What in the heck is a “three tooth fish”?

But the fun began with the live stuff. Big tanks with crabs and lobsters and fish, and a trash can-sized barrel of…What is that?…Are they moving?…Holy Toledo, that one just blinked!…live frogs, each about the size of my husband’s fist.

I was so not buying a live frog.

Feeling slightly freaked out, I made my way around to the front of the shop and spotted a bin of something that looked like mini cucumbers. For $1.99/lb., I could risk it. I took my one tiny item to the checkout counter, where the woman at the register greeted me with a long stream of I have no idea what. I smiled like an idiot and mumbled “Thank you,” hoping that was an appropriate response to what she had said to me.

That night I chopped up my mystery item and was relieved to discover it was, in fact, some kind of cucumber. I had planned to take a photo so you could see it, but it was so delicious, we ate it before it hit the plates.

The Ah-Hahs: I’ve daydreamed about, and my husband and I have even discussed, the possibility of living/working in a foreign country for a period of time, maybe three months, maybe a year. While my job can be done remotely anywhere, his does not translate. Maybe we could do it if we won big in the lottery and didn’t have to work. It could happen.

But probably the biggest hindrance is neither of us in bilingual. I’d like to think we could, with time and effort, learn the basics of a language here and be able to pick up idioms once we established a residency, but geez, it would be hard. Just getting around, learning the customs and courtesies, taking care of things like banking and driving, and, well, finding food, would all be exhausting. I imagine myself repeating my encounter with the woman at this market’s counter, of being overwhelmed by the selection of unfamiliar foods, of having her talk to me in a steady stream of what sounds to me like gibberish, and standing there like an ugly American tourist who has made no effort to even try to be respectful. This could certainly happen outside our borders, because, heck, I just had it happen a few blocks from home.

Or would it be exhilarating? Are we too old and set in our ways to pursue a grand adventure? I’m thinking maybe, which strikes me as a little sad, but also a little realistic. I’m thinking it might be enough to broaden our Bucket List of places we want to visit, then be sure we line up some savvy English-speaking guides. Or maybe we start by asking around about authentic restaurants in town. Certainly we have an abundance of choices in cosmopolitan San Francisco.

Inspired, I did a quick google search for “best ethnic restaurants in San Francisco.” Jackpot! I found this article from two years ago.

Afghanistan, Chile, Iceland. Iceland! Something like 70 countries are represented. The article ends with “Forget packing your bags. The adventures offered at these Bay Area eateries require only a love for food and a willingness to try new things.”

Guess what’s going on my List for future Nudges?