This morning it was decided we’d go to the market.
Gröbenzell is a small suburb of Munich which is often called the Garden City because it has, wait for it, quite a lot of gardens, enough that there are two flowers in the coat of arms. There was no time to visit them today because we decided to go the market instead.
After my disappointment at learning that the Bürgerhaus was not at all what I expected, we had a quick church or two. The spangly Catholic church is quite a modern affair and as we walked in a woman who was shocked to see us almost immediately started apologising profusely for her Camembert. I’ve had experience of high Anglican church before but was totally unaware that Rome has three sacraments, or perhaps I’ve simply been mishearing the story of the Baby Cheeses all this time. I was also slightly perplexed by a painting on the ceiling above the chancel of what looked like a sheep holding a flag with Saint George’s cross on it humping a cloud.
We smiled at the cheese lady and looked around before heading over to the Protestant church which was, in comparison, somewhat dowdy, and disappointingly lactose free. There was a book open on the lectern where people could write their wish-list; only some were virtuous.
There were salty bretzels with butter and yummy things for lunch.
I worked in the afternoon. In the evening I helped Hostess put oil into her car, failed to get near a branch that needs cutting down on the tree outside her front door, and pointed and laughed when she managed to burn the pasta without first checking that Schwartznudeln aren’t a Bavarian delicacy. Because that would’ve been rude.
There are also no rats in the Rathaus.
