Fariyas Can Opener

When you move to a place for just one year, shopping trips are more about what you can do without than what you intend to buy. At Big Bazaar last summer, Yoshi and I spent most of the time walking away from kitchen items that we thriftily—and stupidly—deemed unnecessary. Like knives. Also can openers.

But now, in our next-to-last month, we’ve inherited three cans of sweetened, condensed milk from a fire sale at the American Consulate commissary. And, as both of us are obsessed with cold coffee, I spent the better part of an afternoon trying to hack into one of the squat little red cans with a fork.

At last I admitted defeat and went next door to borrow a can opener. My request met with much consternation, ending in a ten-minute hunt in Harsh’s apartment which is really no bigger than ours. Harsh thought it was a conspiracy, as our other neighbors had just borrowed the opener a week before. Here is what they had; here is the can opener that is keeping Fariyas—all 11 floors and 33 apartments—fed.