I sit on a too low stool, or it might just be the table is too high. Two saleswomen serve the customers who walk in with their questions and intentions to shop quickly. I take bites of my Apfel-Steusel (poised favorably close to my mouth, due to the table) and swigs of a cappuccino (the everyday bakery variety, not the broad cup and opulent foam of the fancy coffee places).
A woman enters wearing reinforced work pants and paint-spattered shoes. It's 3:30 pm, but she looks done with her workday. Affectless. She buys a loaf that's wound in paper and takes her leave. The bakery saleslady reaches behind her to remove the price sign for that type of bread. Sold out for today.
In the adjoining shop there's a butcher, and voices bounce off the shiny stone floor. I see a dad and a young boy, who's riding a wooden rocking horse. Now they're at the counter. The saleswoman has given the boy a slice of Lyoner (really fine-grained baloney) to munch on; they always do. The boy returns to the rocking horse, mussy haired and staring quietly out the window while the dad shops.
"Is that one a kilo?" asks the next man in the bakery. "And what about the rye? A kilo?" He settled on the rye, not sliced, and left.
More paint-spattered folks in for coffee to go. The machine hums and presses out the drinks. The ladies mop the floor during a lull. Suddenly we're all quiet. Deeply colored Easter eggs fill a glass bowl. The remaining loaves get rearranged. Another workman grabs cold drinks. Tschüss, auf Wiedersehen, we all say when someone leaves.
Showing posts with label bakery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bakery. Show all posts
Monday, April 14, 2014
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Observed in town today
This morning I walked through Heilbronn at a time when I normally wouldn't. The city bus drivers, among other public service providers, are on strike for higher wages. We're a one-car family, and Markus hasn't yet replaced a recently stolen bike, his otherwise normal means of traveling six kilometers to work. So, we dropped Miriam and a neighbor at school and went into town to bring Markus to campus.
I walked in the city—returning DVDs at the library window, grabbing a coffee. The lady at the bakery remarked on the desertion in her store. Normally, school kids get off at Rathaus (City Hall) and flood her tucked away shop on their path to school. By contrast and for the same reason, I was the unlikely pedestrian/chauffeur this morning, and I was a solitary customer.
The walk along the Neckar River back to campus cooled my coffee, chilled my fingers. A flat-bed tow truck appeared in an ally off the wide pedestrian river walk. I worried about the planters edging a sidewalk café while the truck hurried around the corner onto the walkway. As I was wondering what his errand might be and reminding myself these drivers of large vehicles know what they’re doing, a business name appeared on the green and yellow vehicle’s side: geist-recycling.de.
Ha! Perhaps a family named “Geist” owns the business? Or maybe something more poetic is intended (there’s a little Casper-style ghost in the logo if you check out the web link). Regardless, the word’s associations are intriguing. “Geist” means spirit or mind or ghost. Der heilige Geist is the Holy Ghost. Just how are those recycled?
It bears mentioning, too, that a German person would pronounce that web address this way: “geist minus recycling punkt d e”. Any time a hyphen shows up in a web address, Germans call it a “Minus” and not a “Bindestrich” (the less pronounceable but correct word for hyphen). To my ear, amusing equations emerge. Another example from a call-in radio program with guest experts for various topics: “tausend minus fragen at swr punkt d e” (thousand minus questions). Folks here say it straight-voiced every time, so I assume it’s just me who’s amused.
On my way back to the car, I passed a peaceful cluster of people in yellow traffic vests holding signs against their thighs, drinking coffee, some smoking. They stood outside the city swimming pool and thermal bath, Soleo. Perhaps a strike is another form of recycling spirit?
~~I am inspired by writer/mentor/friend Abigail Thomas and her recently launched blog, which features short-shorts she's called "blogettes", to consider shorter posts. This one counts as short, for me.~~
I walked in the city—returning DVDs at the library window, grabbing a coffee. The lady at the bakery remarked on the desertion in her store. Normally, school kids get off at Rathaus (City Hall) and flood her tucked away shop on their path to school. By contrast and for the same reason, I was the unlikely pedestrian/chauffeur this morning, and I was a solitary customer.
The walk along the Neckar River back to campus cooled my coffee, chilled my fingers. A flat-bed tow truck appeared in an ally off the wide pedestrian river walk. I worried about the planters edging a sidewalk café while the truck hurried around the corner onto the walkway. As I was wondering what his errand might be and reminding myself these drivers of large vehicles know what they’re doing, a business name appeared on the green and yellow vehicle’s side: geist-recycling.de.
Ha! Perhaps a family named “Geist” owns the business? Or maybe something more poetic is intended (there’s a little Casper-style ghost in the logo if you check out the web link). Regardless, the word’s associations are intriguing. “Geist” means spirit or mind or ghost. Der heilige Geist is the Holy Ghost. Just how are those recycled?
It bears mentioning, too, that a German person would pronounce that web address this way: “geist minus recycling punkt d e”. Any time a hyphen shows up in a web address, Germans call it a “Minus” and not a “Bindestrich” (the less pronounceable but correct word for hyphen). To my ear, amusing equations emerge. Another example from a call-in radio program with guest experts for various topics: “tausend minus fragen at swr punkt d e” (thousand minus questions). Folks here say it straight-voiced every time, so I assume it’s just me who’s amused.
On my way back to the car, I passed a peaceful cluster of people in yellow traffic vests holding signs against their thighs, drinking coffee, some smoking. They stood outside the city swimming pool and thermal bath, Soleo. Perhaps a strike is another form of recycling spirit?
~~I am inspired by writer/mentor/friend Abigail Thomas and her recently launched blog, which features short-shorts she's called "blogettes", to consider shorter posts. This one counts as short, for me.~~
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