The waiting is the hardest part.

My friend is currently in Frankfurt (or thereabouts) laying the groundwork for what is now starting to look like a longer than one week work trip for both of us in early September. As jealous as I am that she is already over there and I am not, it looks like that may work out very much to my benefit. She must be telling our German associates that I’m either a drunken glutton or a sheltered, uncultured Midwestern Americuhn (need I trademark that?) because they’re planning all sorts of fabulous outings and meals. So far I’ve heard of a brewery tour, a wine tour, and an invitation back to the gentleman’s home for a home-cooked Korean feast! Now, it is true that I have never been to Europe, but I’m starting to become afraid that these guys are going to think I’ve never been off the farm, or that I eat nothing but peanut butter and drink nothing other than whole milk. I will play as dumb as necessary, though, keep it coming. Bier? What is this now? Golly gee, it’s MAGICAL! And you have cheese? It’s so…not an artificially-orange individual slice wrapped in plastic; how charming! Chocolate, you say? But it’s so dark, I’m not sure if I can handle that kind of intensity.

That wouldn’t be wrong, would it? I should really go learn some German.

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