The first time I landed in Lisbon, I skipped the tram ride to Belém, the famous custard tarts, and even the waterfront. Instead, I headed straight to the nearest grocery store. Not the glossy tourist market with artisanal olive oil in gift-worthy bottles. I mean the actual, fluorescent-lit, locals-on-a-Tuesday grocery store.
It’s been my ritual ever since: no matter the country, before I’ve unpacked my bag, I find the nearest supermarket and wander the aisles like it’s my first museum. The shelves tell me what locals actually buy, the price tags show me the real cost of living, and the packaging reveals what a culture values enough to stock week after week.
Over time, this habit has done more than satisfy my curiosity. It’s saved me money, helped me avoid tourist traps, and given me a better feel for a city than most guidebooks can. And it’s the first thing I recommend to anyone who wants to understand a place beyond its curated “must-see” list.
When you think about it, a city’s grocery stores are a direct line to its economic and cultural pulse. According to the Food Marketing Institute, over 70% of people shop for groceries at least once a week, which means what you see on those shelves reflects daily life for most residents.
In just one lap around a market, you can learn:
This matters because when you understand how a city feeds itself, you understand its pace, its priorities, and its everyday cost structures.
As a Finance Editor, I can’t walk through a supermarket without mentally calculating the cost-of-living index. Grocery prices give you a quick, tangible benchmark that dining in restaurants never will.
Here’s how it plays out:
When I was in Porto, I realized a bottle of very drinkable vinho verde cost less than a cappuccino. In Oslo, by contrast, even basic groceries cost more than mid-tier restaurant meals back home. Those insights let me adjust my trip budget in real time—no spreadsheet required.
Tourist dining districts are often priced for people who will never return. Grocery stores? They price for repeat business. That means you get the “local rate” without hunting for hidden neighborhood spots.
This is how I learned to spot a city’s “real” food prices. In Florence, seeing how little locals paid for fresh pasta made me rethink the €18 tourist-restaurant plate. In Tokyo, the range of convenience-store bento boxes convinced me to skip overpriced hotel breakfasts.
By starting my trip with a grocery run, I anchor my expectations early. I know if a café is charging double for a latte, and I know where to find snacks that won’t blow my budget.
It’s not just about the numbers. Grocery stores are cultural goldmines if you know how to look.
Pay attention to:
In Reykjavik, I noticed the bread aisle was dominated by dense rye loaves, and dairy products had entire sections for skyr in dozens of flavors. In Mexico City, the bakery section was self-serve, with trays and tongs for piling on fresh pan dulce—something you’d never know from a restaurant menu alone.
If you want to make the grocery ritual your own, here’s how I approach it:
Find the store closest to your accommodation
Bring a reusable tote
Walk every aisle
Buy one “daily life” item and one “treat”
Note prices in your phone
Here’s where the finance angle becomes obvious: the grocery ritual pays for itself.
In Paris, swapping one restaurant lunch per day for a baguette, cheese, and fruit from Monoprix saved me around €12 per day. Over a week, that’s €84—enough to cover a splurge dinner or a train ticket to another city.
In Bangkok, grabbing bottled water and snacks from 7-Eleven meant I avoided minibar charges and tourist kiosk markups, which often ran three to four times higher.
When you multiply these small daily savings by the length of your trip, you see why seasoned travelers swear by the grocery stop.
Aside from budget and cultural intel, grocery shopping early in the trip has other advantages:
Once you’ve done the grocery run, you can pair it with a few other smart, first-48-hour strategies:
Even if you’re on a higher-end trip, the grocery store still delivers value. If you’re renting a luxury apartment in Rome, picking up fresh pasta and wine from a local store means you can enjoy a Michelin-quality meal at your own table for a fraction of the price.
If you’re on a backpacker’s budget, the grocery ritual can be the difference between affording that extra museum ticket or not. The beauty is that it scales to fit your travel style without sacrificing experience.
Because people always ask, here are a few standouts:
These little discoveries often stick with me longer than the big attractions, because they’re tied to the rhythms of daily life.
Even if cooking isn’t your thing, the grocery run still works. Think of it as a gallery visit where the exhibits happen to be edible. The goal isn’t to stock a pantry—it’s to observe, sample, and connect.
And if you truly don’t care about the food, shift the lens. Look at the household goods aisle. Notice the detergents, the cleaning tools, the stationery. You’ll still learn something about how people live.
Sightseeing shows you a city’s highlights. The grocery store shows you its habits.
By making it your first stop, you not only gather cultural insight and practical budgeting intel—you set a tone for your trip that’s grounded, curious, and tuned to the local frequency.
The magic is that you can do it anywhere, on any budget, without needing a guide or a plan. And you’ll walk away with something even better than a souvenir: a deeper sense of how a place actually works when the tour buses aren’t looking.
