It's the little differences

Some more on my voyage to Puerto Rico: As you are no doubt aware, PR is officially part of the United States (I required no passport, I paid for things with George, Abe, Alexander, and Andrew). So it wasn't all that different from what we imperialist American pigs know and love. But Vincent Vega was right: It's the little differences.

Along with coconut soda, this caught my eye at the grocery store:
I don't believe I've ever seen personal-size breakfast cereal sold this way, several boxes of the same kind packaged together. I'm used to the standard variety pack, ten boxes covering a wide gamut (there's always that stray box of All-Bran that no one ever wants). So what's this about? What marketing genius determined that the Puerto Rican market, and only the Puerto Rican market, was prepared for eight blasts of Froot Loops at once? Or can this be found on the mainland if you look hard enough? Eternal questions.

A few shelves down, there was this:
I was very tempted to purchase this, partly because it looked delicious, but also partly because that's the single best product name I've ever seen.

Then, in the airport en route back home, I spotted this:
That's chicken sausage in a little can, in a vending machine. Fascinating…

But the fact is, the food was excellent in Puerto Rico. I had what's probably the best bowl of shrimp and linguine I've ever consumed, a wonderfully authentic chicken quesadilla in a kiosko by the beach and, best of all, mofongo:
That's mashed plantains stuffed with meat (in this case, scrumptious flank steak), a Puerto Rican delicacy. This serving basically looked like a giant beef cupcake, which I gamely consumed with a glass of Sprite. Vacation is good.