I had the privilege to live in Germany for three years while my husband was stationed in the Army. We lived in a very small town in southwest Germany call Baumholder. For me it was adventure, in the Army it was referred to the armpit of Germany. I had never been overseas let a lone live among Germans for three years. There was no adjusting to a different way of life I jumped right in. “Our” town had a market on Saturday mornings where you could pick out and buy your rotisserie chicken from the chicken man, the fishmonger was there and of course the bakery. I was very fluent in asking for chocolate cake.
Most of the vendors spoke better broken English than I spoke German. I was able after 3 years to ask for a beer, chocolate cake and where is the bathroom.
Baumholder had a wonderful German supermarket, small compared to anything in the states. Of course we shopped in the commissary for most things but I loved going the German store for all different products you could not find back home. Ketchup in a tube, baking powder in packets instead of a can. There were wonderful breads, cheeses, jams, mustard and of course chocolates. As we would wonder down to the market I noticed that the locals did not buy a lot of groceries at one time and their carts were smaller. Also they did not use plastic bags as much as we did back home. These women would have these big wicker baskets or bag the was made of netting.
So of course wanting to look like I local and fit in, I bought a market basket. To this day, I still use it when I shop at the farmer’s markets.
I have reverted back to my old ways of shopping for the week. But every time I use my basket I am reminded of those days buying my produce in the market on Saturdays.