November 25, 2012 by Syd
In our modern globalized world it seems everyone can live everywhere on this planet. Especially Germans tend to believe they can cope anywhere. As most Germans speak more than one foreign language they wander, fly, cruise and even ride on a bicycle all over the world. Many stories are told about the akwardness of German tourists and exilantes. We are the ones with the umbrellas in the handbag, the ones who insist on drinking German beer wherever we are, the ones with the towels, the Bratwurst and the money.
Living in Ireland for quite some time I can assure you forget about these things. The irish don’t care if we spend our money on umbrellas or Bayern München tracksuits. Apparently they like to dress themselves in Bayern tracksuits as well. They offer us Paulaner if we like it or not in almost every pub. And if you are totally lost I can assure you there will be a friendly irish guy who is capable of speaking your language.
They totally ignore our akwardness as Angie, who tends to be a famous popstar around here, is paying the bills. As a matter of fact, only an Irish teacher can tell your German kid things like: “The Germans lost the 1st world war, they lost the 2nd world war and guess from who we are borrowing money now. So you can say they’ve won in the end.”
Yeah right. Irish people love to ask you why for God’s sake you like to love on their shitty island (these are the words of my cabdriver not mine)
So after some time you totally love your new home…well you think you do until you decide to have breakfast outside your own kitchen.
Believe me, you can survive irish cooking. The neverending stream of potatoeversions to each and every meal. You can even stomach the strange pies and soups and relishes. But don’t try to have breakfast with irish people. First of all, it is almost impossible to find a decent place to have breakfast before 11 am in the morning. Officially starved you pack your umbrella under the table and you don’t even mind the instant coffee which will be served to you in almost 50% of the restaurants. You totally ignore the Irish Breakfast Option as you know, that even your Sauerkrauttrained stomach won’t be able to face black pudding or fried tomatoes served with a dozen of killed chickenembryos next to some burnt toast.
So hell yeah, pancakes or french toast sounds like an option. While your beloved irish friend is already munching his way through a plate with fat filled sausages (no proper German butcher would sell anything like that) you wait for your french toast and pancakes.
There can’t be anything wrong with pancakes right? Pancakes come with blueberries, or marmelade or cream or maybe in some cases with mince. But welcome to Ireland. The only place on earth where you get your pancakes, your SWEET pancakes with BACON. Right we are talking about pancakes made out of eggs, flour, milk and SUGAR!
While you are trying to process what is happening the French toast is served. French toast, a thing southern Germans tend to call “ARME RITTER” Toast soaked in RIGHT pancake sauce, topped with sugar and cinnamon. Guess what? There is only one way to serve IRISH french toast. With bacon.
It is the minute you lose your established “Contenance”, your absolute will to assimilate, to cooperate, to fit in. There is no way you will ever get used to that stuff being called “Breakfast”. Hangoverdinner maybe, Lunch, whatever but not breakfast.