Intrepid Optimist is the place where I can share my stories; fact, fiction and thoughts from the past and present. It’s Written by myself for people who believe adventure knows no age
It is doubtful the owner of my local bakery will be reading this, so I can safely say his baguettes are probably the worst I have ever attempted to swallow. If his boulangerie was in France and not Germany, he would have been guillotined long ago.
Of course, you may question why I continue to patronize him? Well, I can tell you. I, along with other equally besotted men are prepared to patiently wait in line each morning for their Brötchen because the Eastern European young woman behind the counter is stunning.
“Herta. Hurry up and dash to the bakery.”
“Don’t worry my love. Herta must get ready for school…I’ll go.”
“I’m ready. If you like I’ll go.”
“No, no my love, just enjoy your coffee in peace…I’m on the way.”
This or similar dialogues can be heard daily in my neighbourhood, between six every morning – when the bakery opens – until around seven-thirty, when the demand for the bread rolls falls off.
It is rare to find a German man smiling, particularly at dawn but Maija, the schöne Verkäuferin from Latvia, has them all, myself included, beaming with good will when we shop at the bakery.
“What’s on Angebot today Frau Maija? (The Germans always look for a bargain even in a bakery)
“The Fullkorn Brötchen. , Herr Doctor. Ninety-five cents.Three for the price of two.”
“Ninety-five cents? That’s expensive isn’t it.”
A radiant smile from Maija.
“Oh. Alright then. “Yields Mr doctor, having been won over. “ I’ll take the three but I know my wife will complain.” This is followed by much fussing in his purse for the exact amount of pfennigs.
German men do not let their coins jangle in their pockets. They have wallets which include a purse for their loose change. Credit cards are still frowned upon.
“Next please?” Asks the ever tolerant Maija, rewarding us with another gracious smile.
“I think you’re next.” Suggests Herr Ingenieur, (Germans love to be known by their titles) turning to the man behind him, prepared to sacrifice his turn to appreciate Maija’s beauty for a moment longer.
The bread shop quite is small, which means as the queue lengthens the latecomers must wait in line outside and even in times of inclement weather, we do so patiently, in hope of Maija bestowing a benevolent smile on each of us as we place our orders.
“Bloody nuisance. Says I, when back home with the warm breakfast rolls on the table. “Always having to chase round to the bakery my love. Maybe we should start buying those frozen Brötchen.”
“A good idea.” Answers my love, raising her eyebrows to the kitchen ceiling. “I can’t imagine why you go to all that trouble every morning.”
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