Natalie recently pointed out that I live my life according to my next meal. Time is tracked according to which meal has just passed and my mood is dictated by my satisfaction or disgust with my gastronomic condition. Pity used to point this out as well, saying that I get cranky when I'm hungry. Whenever I was not in a talkative mood, he would yell out to me "Matty! Eat a sandwich!"
I think this is true, as I am currently eating breakfast (fruhstueck consisting of assorted breads and cheeses and a fine cup of coffee) in one of Munich's oldest cafes and I am quite content. Such was the case last night. I was in my favorite round-the-corner cafes where I usually order a small pasta dish (I have been on a mushroom kick this past week and can't get enough of the fungus. When I found out that the Roman emperor Claudius's favorite dish was mushrooms, I've been hooked. I guess I am an impressionable kind of guy. Or perhaps, just a friggin loser) and a tall glass of weissbier. Everything was going according to routine: I find a table against the wall (being in the middle makes me feel too exposed. I feel like I am on display and will often move all my stuff and my meal if a spot opens up against the wall), I break out my book (Paris: A Biography), and casually glance at the menu. Hmmm.... I know I will be drinking heavily tonight, so something hearty is best. Pasta carbonara. Perfect.
"Uhh... spaghetti carbonara und ein weissbier please.. uhhh.. bitte." (I purposely slip an English word in there to get the point across that I don't speak good German and that any sort of awkwardness in my speech is a result of said lack of ability. These little tricks have saved me many an accussing glance... I think).
CRAP. I have a tour in 15 minutes. Why is this post called "The Look"?? FIND OUT NEXT TIME!
TO BE CONTINUED....