There are certain things that just don’t change, no matter which country you find yourself in. Shopping, or retail therapy, as it has come to be known, is one of them.

I am willing to bet that in most countries, shopping has gone from being a necessity to a leisurely activity in which people, mostly females, bond. I even call it a sport sometimes.

There comes a time, however, when shopping is a necessity, as was the case for me last week. Of course, I was looking forward to it, but was a bit anxious at the prospect of shopping in a new country surrounded by unfamiliar shops.

All the locals from whom I had sought advice had recommended Sliema for its many trendy boutiques, and that’s where I headed, dressed in my most comfortable clothes, ready to attack the day.

Like most North Americans who come to Europe, I was looking for different fashions to the ones we have at home, being that Europe is considered the mastermind behind all the trends we have. With this in mind, I made it a point to enter boutiques that I had never heard of before, but seemed to carry nice merchandise.

I was not disappointed. Maybe it was just an impression caused by my aforementioned admiration for European fashion, but everything looked, in a way, classier than what I am accustomed to. The only problem was that, not totally used to the euros yet, my brain was doing a lot of maths, trying to convert the price tags to American dollars.

This is a terrible habit, but one that is impossible to give up when using a different currency. It was unfortunate because, obviously, everything seemed extremely expensive to me – the worst being when I actually took out my mobile to calculate a price. I only did it once, but once was enough for me to rapidly put the dress in question back in its place.

I did manage to find some things to try on, however, but quickly noticed that the sizes here are not made to cater for tall people. (I refuse to think that this could perhaps be caused by one too many pastizzi). The sizes were all the more heartbreaking when I looked at shoes, my greatest weakness – how hard it was to find a size 10!

Sizes are usually not a problem, but then again I am used to much larger selections. Everything seems bigger in North America, from the availability of foods in bulk to the number of available shirts or dresses in a certain model. This is true also for things such as shampoos and toiletries. I entered a pharmacy the very next day, expecting the brightly lit, long aisles of American pharmacies, but instead found myself in a small shop, with only two small shelves of shampoo and conditioner bottles.

The great thing about the pharmacy, like all the clothing stores, was the air-conditioning. Though I have been here for over a month, the heat still surprises me everyday, as it apparently keeps increasing. So, not only were the shops small havens because of their beautiful clothes, they were made all the more heavenly by the relief of air-conditioning.

Ironically enough, although I was on the lookout for uniquely European boutiques and names, I felt a wave of familiarity and comfort whenever I saw something I knew. The sight of the Plaza mall, with its bright lights, escalators and food court, made me feel at home, although again on a much smaller scale.

But even that was incomparable to the joy that two four-letter words gave me: “Zara” and “Sale”. It’s surprising, really, how eight simple letters can be so powerful. Maybe it wasn’t just the words, but the inside of the store, which is laid out exactly like the ones in North America. Add to that the air-conditioning, colour-coded racks of clothing, and American music, to which shoppers can’t help but sing along (think Kelly Clarkson), and I was content.

Needless to say, I finally found what I was looking for, in a size that fitted – though I could not find shoes. Still, happy to have found something, I headed a few metres down the road for a nice, warm qassata.