While studying abroad in Copenhagen last year, I always said the hardest thing to get used to was grocery shopping.

Stepping into that grocery store was intimidating, to say the least. It’s hard enough that everything is in a different language, but the types of products, arrangement, pricing, and even social interaction that takes place in the grocery store are so radically different that, despite how much I’ve traveled, foreign grocery stores still make me pause with foreign unease.

It wasn’t just Copenhagen, either. In fact, grocery shopping in Tokyo was much more difficult, for obvious linguistic reasons. But on the other end of the spectrum, even visiting a convenience store in London, or closer to home, even New York City can be a shockingly unfamiliar experience for someone like myself, who’s grown up in rural America and moved to Washington, D.C.–a city that is, well, remarkably unique. Sure, there’s no language barrier, but there’s still that odd feeling of unfamiliarity. I remember the first time I walked into a Duane Reade–it felt exactly like walking into a 7-eleven in Japan, a Netto in Copenhagen, or a Sainsbury’s in London.

Now the only reason I write all this is because this morning I got that very same feeling walking into a Rite-Aid here in Crystal City.

I walked in and was suddenly stunned by that odd feeling of out-of-place-ness. That feeling you get when you go in a place that you expect to feel comfortable, normal, and consistent, but instead are confronted with an environment radically different from your own–like walking into a foreign grocery store.

There’s nothing particularly remarkable about this Rite-Aid that I can pin this feeling on. The products were the same, the prices no different. Even the layout was remarkably similar to most of the CVS’s and Rite-Aids around the District. Perhaps it was my mood, my state of mind at the time, or my imagination still lost in the book I was reading on the metro.