Last night I stayed at an utterly charming hostel.* The room was light and airy, and the WC was located right down the hall (which I find much more pleasant that the prospect of flushing a toilet mere feet from my pillow.) The hostel is smack in the heart of St. Pauli (which the Hamburg Tourist Board describes as “a quarter with some problems on the one hand, but very vivid on the other hand” and which I describe as “very oh-dear-are-those-poor-girls-victims-of-sex-trafficking on the one hand, but excellent inexpensive food, interesting art and great hostels on the other hand”), and is upstairs from a restaurant that specializes in bio food. The breakfast buffet (have I mentioned HOW MUCH I LOVE GERMANY AND THEIR AWESOME MORNING BUFFETS lately?) contained many, many items that were labeled ‘bio’, including the honey. Tobias and I had a nice laugh at that; even though we haven’t settled on a mutually satisfactory explanation of the term bio, we do agree that as bio is likely a combination of natural, biological and organicish, there is no such thing as non-bio honey.
Just as I was launching into what was sure to be a hysterical riff about how there’s no such thing as BIO-WURST (referring to the salami and liverwurst standing out like sore thumbs in the midst of the bio-bread and bio-milk and bio-radishes,) a delivery truck pulled up outside. As I turned to look, I realized why sometimes Germans have a bit of a haughty, smug look when there are Americans about who laugh too much over breakfast and who forget that English is not their own special made-up secret code language: the delivery truck said “Bio-Fleisch”. The bio-meat delivery had arrived in all its bio-wursty glory.
*I would gladly tell you the name of the hostel, but I can’t remember it: as soon as there are more than 7 consonants in a German word, they all look the same to me. Sorry! It’s the hostel in the old Mont Blanc factory, and google is spelled G-O-O-G-L-E even in German.