Cologne Hotels
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Got Milk?
Entry 43 of 61 | show all | print this entry |
When Steve and I came home from Germany to visit friends and family for ten days, I was so excited. Not only was I looking forward to seeing everyone (especially our dogs), but I couldn't wait to eat American food again. One of the things I was looking forward to having most was cereal. Those of you who know me, are aware that I am a cereal freak. At any given time, we have more than ten different kinds of cereal in our kitchen cupboard at home and if given the chance, I would eat it at every single meal!
So the very first thing I did when we got home was go shopping for cereal. Thrilled that I didn't have to pay for a grocery cart or bag my own groceries like we do here in Germany, I went on a shopping spree. I bought two big boxes of "normal" Frosted Flakes, "regular" Frosted Mini Wheats, Raisin Bran with real raisins, and Honey Bunches of Oats with oats that didn't look like snot. To top it all off, I bought an entire gallon of Vitamin D milk (unlike the puny quarts they sell here).
Once I got everything home, I sat down and poured myself the biggest bowl of cereal I think I've ever had. I filled the bowl so full of milk that it was almost spilling over the sides. My mouth watered as I dug my spoon into it for my first bite. I remember Steve talking to me as I raised the spoon toward my mouth but I don't remember a single word he said! Everything around me was a haze. After two months without my favorite food, all I could think about was how good it was going to taste. My anticipation of the sugary sweet euphoria about to come had blocked out everything else around me.
The minute the spoonful of cereal hit my mouth, I realized that something was wrong. It didn't taste quite right. It wasn't as sweet as I remembered it, it didn't have as much flavor as I thought it would, and to be quite honest...it tasted like crap. At first I thought it was just the cereal and so I poured myself a bowl of another kind. Unfortunately the result was the same...no flavor at all. The cereal was so bland that even the Frosted Mini Wheats (which I love) tasted like wiry hay.
In desperation, I poured myself a third bowl and this time I doused it with sugar. But it only made the cereal taste like "sweet" crap. At this point, panic began to set in. What happened to my favorite food while I was away? How could this happen? This isn't fair!
As I tried to figure out why every cereal tasted so horrible to me now, I realized that it wasn't the cereal that tasted bad, it was the type of milk I was putting on it. Since Steve and I have been in Germany, the milk we've been using is 3.5%. It is basically a cross between whole milk and cream. In essence, it is just shy of using half-and-half. As a result, every cereal that we eat here in Germany tastes so good because could almost squeeze the milk from the cow.
In the ten days that we were home, I still ate cereal everyday even though it lacked the flavor I hoped it would have. Every time I reached for the milk to pour on it, I sighed in disappointment. All I could think about was how much better it would taste if I only had the "good" milk I've become accustomed to having here in Germany. For our dogs, Morgan and Jack, my milk debacle was great because they probably ate as much of my cereal as I did!
When Steve and returned to Germany after our visit home, we were exhausted. Saying goodbye to everyone a second time was more difficult than the first (at least for me anyway). In order to make the long trip back I HAD to have something to look forward to. You can already guess what that was...a huge bowl of cereal!
Once we arrived at the airport in Cologne, Steve said to me, "All I want to do when we get to the apartment is go to bed." I replied, "All I want to do is eat a bowl of cereal...but we don't have any milk." Considering the fact that we had just traveled for twenty hours and still had three train rides left to get to our apartment, the mere hint of us stopping to get milk on the way instigated a scowl unlike anything I've seen before. And when he said, "Are you kidding me? Don't even think about it!" I knew I shouldn't press my luck.
As we were lugging our four suitcases through the airport, we came upon a number of concession stands. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that one of them was a "Milk Stand". As soon as I saw it, my jaw dropped. I looked at Steve and he begrudgingly said to me, "There you go, if you want to buy your milk, here's your chance". Thrilled that I would have milk for my cereal by the time we got home, I walked up to the stand to buy myself a bottle.
When I got to the window, I saw every flavor of milk you could think of...pistachio, banana, strawberry, peach, orange, mint chocolate chip, and even coconut. As interesting as they all were, I just wanted plain milk. My mouth began to water as thought about how good my cereal was going to taste once again. But when I asked the lady for a bottle, she shook her head (as if to say "No"). I looked at Steve and he was just as confused as I was. I said, "You don't have regular milk?" She said, "Sorry, but "No".
At this point I am trying really hard to keep my composure but after traveling for hours on end, my patience was very thin. How can a milk stand not have white milk? In response, I said to her, "Are you SERIOUS? You don't have "just" milk?" She replied, "We have tasty Pistachio, Coconut, and all of these, but no Plain." Before I completely snapped, Steve grabbed my arm and pulled me away.
You can only imagine my outrage at the lady at the milk stand. And after making it quite clear to Steve (and everyone else in the train station who heard me yelling), I realized that my tantrum wasn't getting me anywhere. In fact, I felt quite foolish for yelling at the lady to begin with. In my defense, I can only blame it on two things exhaustion and hysteria from traveling so long!
After we unpacked our suitcases, the first thing I did was walk to the store and buy milk. I was so exhausted from traveling so long but yet the excitement of having good cereal once again literally made me float there and back. As soon as I returned from the store with several quarts of milk in hand, I poured myself a huge bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats (called Toppas here). I soaked them up with milk and dug my spoon into the bowl. As soon as the first bite hit my mouth, I knew I was in heaven. My favorite food was back and I finally had the right milk!
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