One thing I miss about having a car and a place with a supply of pots, plates, and ingredients is making a late night quesadillas after work. It is very important to taste whatever it is that you are making that day, but I cannot bring myself to eat during service. The staff in the kitchen are not shy when it comes to eating... They take bowls of soup, plates of food, and cones topped with ice cream throughout the night… Of course, dropping the feast when tickets come in, but if there is a spare moment… spoons and fork resume duty. It has always felt wrong whether from an unprofessional view point or just bad timing… I just can’t seem to make myself eat in the kitchen. Buuuuut after work I always eat something! Even if it is an apple or a piece of salami and cheese (ooohhh Horseradish Cheddar!!!) whenever I sit here typing I sit here craving the most random food from home… I’ve enjoyed almost everything I have had here, but I can’t go to my fridge and eat one of my lovely Greek yogurt cups or munch on a handful of goldfish. Knowing that makes me want just that all the more! A Wendy’s frosty or hot and fresh Checker’s fry…. Sushi… proper sushi with proper wasabi to clear the sinuses, pad thai, peanut butter, Reeses cup, a glass of non-salty milk, a freshly picked orange, lemonade. chocolate Teddy Grahams, steak with a side of broccoli rabe, Oooooooo minestrone or my Mommy’s bean soup… yes, I am hungry and those black current gummies just aren’t going to cut it. Good grief 9 weeks and 5 days to go. Maybe I’ll get used to this daily pain of no decent late night snackage.
I really miss my bed and my snuggie. I have too many pillows but I’d give up all the German cheesecake to have them here on my bed. Something of home... and something to make up for this wretched mattress. I’ve been terribly homesick lately. Whenever I talk about walking back to the apartment… It is just that: the apartment. It isn’t home or anything personal; it’s just the place I sleep at night. I don’t think I was ever this homesick when I first moved to Miami. There I had at least a corner to call mine. To sleep in and decorate as I pleased. Don’t take me wrong, I love my little corner of IKEA. I am so grateful I have a place to myself, but I can’t hang / tape my art to the wall or paste all the random notes I love to collect and sleep beneath ( didn’t bring any of those things). If I was actually coming to Germany to live I’d be entering into week three of what-to-do-to-my-new-home plans. I’d spend my days off and savings on little things to make this place mine. But I’m not here to stay, and the mentality of eventually leaving removes all hope of “homeyness” here. I don’t have a teapot. I don’t have a plate… when I eat cheese I place my piece of bread on the cover of my cheese container… It feels pretty pathetic not to have a plate or cup. On top of that I can’t call home or hear the voices of the people I love most. That is the hardest part of all. No voices and definitely no hugs. It would be kind of weird to randomly go up to a chef and tell him I need a hug… hm… yeah bad idea.
Tomorrow is Sunday. More work, after a refreshing walk in the morning… And another week begins. I never know the day or date here… I just go day to day hoping that my next day off won’t be one of the days everything is closed. I’ll eat some käse spaetzle… but all I really want is some mac and cheese.
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