Frühstück

Not surprisingly, when I wandered into the restaurant this morning and greeted Monika (who doesn't speak English), and mentioned "Frühstück" because, following my realization that running around here consists of mainly of hills, I was a bit hungry, she showed me how to make an espresso using a machine the size of an oven. Did I want a klein espresso oder ein gross espresso? Different buttons. Was I making one cup or two? Different buttons. Had I just wanted a coffee, we would have used a different machine entirely (although, one with fewer buttons, it appears).

I don't even drink coffee.

But this morning I had my espresso, because for two minutes, I thought that was going to be the extent of my breakfast.

Fortunately, Monika pointed in three directions to the bread, butter, and konfitüre.

She then set my espresso down at the table with a man to whom I had not been introduced the previous night, who was reading the paper. He said nothing. I ate and tried to make polite conversation (there was a huge picture of Roger Federer in the sports section, and hey, what Swiss person doesn't appreciate the tennis prowess of their countryman?). I also introduced myself and learned that his name was Roberto. Sweet! Then he thought I was from England. Sweet!

It turns out he had been delivering something to the restaurant, but when I said "Tschüss," he smiled and responded, so I'm classifying that interaction a success.