I'm not usually the one who goes to the market here for groceries, so I feel a bit out of sorts when I do go. Do I get the skinke? or the svinekjott? How many litres of milk do I have to get to equal a gallon? What the heck is that hanging in the butcher area? I manage to make it to the checkout counter where I prepared for most of the usual questions. Do I want a bag? Do I want my receipt? What I wasn't prepared for was that I needed an extra bag. It wasn't the "asking" that I wasn't prepared for, but the fact that you had to pay for the bags. I'm not sure how I managed to go to the market a number of times and miss the fact that we paid for the little bags. Well...I grabbed my extra bag and proceeded to bag my groceries when I was hit with a flurry of Norwegian, accompanied by a look of disgust. Jen quickly told me that the checkout clerk was asking me to pay for the bag. To tell you how expensive these bags are, the guy behind me waved me off and paid for the bag along with his candy bar and bottle of Coke. Once we were outside Jen also told me the clerk spoke perfect English, but she just didn't want to that day and must have decided to pick on me. That's it....less than two weeks left here and I'm not going back to the bag lady's market. It's too traumatizing.