Bremen...Breadmen?

It’s been a day and a half in Bremen and I have no idea what we would do without Astrid, whose glowing personality seems to shine through just as well here as it did to everyone in the States. It’s not the getting around part that would make me nervous. It just feels so embarrassing being in a place where I can’t speak the language more than, “Hello,” “Goodbye,” and “I’m eating bread.”

Our first day was nothing more than a taste of Bremen, but meeting Astrid’s family and seeing her house was a cultural experience on its own. Astrid’s mom in particular is endlessly kind. She and Astrid spend nearly the entire day remedying a problem we’d had with our plane tickets for a weekend trip to Zurich.

Her mom has been taking English classes in order to prepare for our visit and the confusion that arises from our conversations is one of my favorite parts about traveling. Google Translate, which always seems so accurate at the times when it least matters, provides the best fun.

After taking a nap on the first day, we had our first German meal of schnitzel, mashed potatoes, and tomato salad for lunch. Astrid’s parents offered us beer. I politely declined and Joe accepted. Astrid’s mom appeared concerned and asked Astrid why I didn’t want the beer, wondering if it was just the type of beer I didn’t like. It apparently hadn’t occurred to her that I might just not be in the mood for a beer midday.

Many of our humorous cultural differences seem to come up around food. On our second day, Joe and I woke up quite late due to our lack of sleep from the flight on the previous night. At breakfast, Astrid brought out a selection of breads, salami, and spreads. Astrid asked if we would like eggs since she was making some for herself. We said no thank you and I asked if she would be having some of the bread and stuff like us. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, “I already had breakfast!” and sat down with her egg and fried potatoes.

Astrid left for Hamburg on our second evening to attend an event for school. When her mom came home, she enthusiastically showed us a package of sliced white bread, pulled out a panini press, and said, “Astrid say you like sandwiches.” She proceeded to clean all the nooks and crannies of the panini press for about ten minutes and made us some salad. After we finished the salad, she went off to bed and we left the kitchen, clueless as to what she was hoping we would do with the bread and panini press.
-RJ Lynch