Like a Satellite
BF and I played house, watching over the hotel while his aunt and uncle went to Vienna overnight for their daughter's civil ceremony. (Church wedding and all-night dance party are happening next week.) The restaurant was closed, but BF wants to make sure you all know I unjustly wouldn't let him fire up the grill for a few randoms who missed the GERSCHLOSSEN ("closed") sign. I never let him have any fun!
Stuttgart also has a farmers' market hall! But it was mostly filled with Italian, Spanish and some French specialty stands. London was the same; French and Italian markets are pretty nationalistic, if not regionalist, and consider only the rare European specialty stand. At the Markthalle There was more local produce than in London.
Germans love any little bit of sun that comes their way. The straßes and platzes were filled with people, and we sat outside at a cafe with Samo's family friend who is honestly named Elvis. I had a piece of pastry with apricots I thought would be a custard, but it was German version of cheesecake. It was nice, but I really wanted a "flan" cake.
Oh! Someone was getting married in town, and the bride and groom had to, like, saw some piece of wood with a two-man saw with ribbons on it. You can see a bit of it in the picture. Then these hare krishnas came dancing down the pedestrian street, and people from the wedding started taking their picture instead of the newlyweds'.
We went to watch Eurovision "ironically" at Elvis's girlfriend's house. Eurovision is an international live song contest, like, Olympics of shitty pop songs. Germany's candidate, Lena, singing "Satellite" in a fake Cockney accent ("I even painted my toenails for yeh, oy did it just the other dai") was the front runner, and the Germans were unironically ecstatic when she won. It's a good song, actually.
The theme of the party was 70's food, and someone's deviled eggs had a toadstool-egg centerpiece. Too cute!
