Saturday morning I woke up, showered, and set off for the Saturday market. Armed with an empty shopping bag, a vague idea of where I was headed and the ability to count to ten in German, I recognized the difficulty in the task that lay ahead of me. I ordered myself an apfel taschen at a bakery stand and wandered the aisles as I ate my breakfast. Fresh produce stands stood next to strong smelling cheese carts beside bakeries and sausage stands and flower stalls. I circled the market, comparing prices, apple varieties, freshness levels, and scoping out which sellers looked the least intimidating to the poor girl that couldn’t answer their questions. I made my first purchase from an old lady who took pity on me and threw in free carrots and parsley with my salad head and radishes. I went all the way to the other end of the market where I bought a German variety of apples from another seller. I went to the far corner where I found a seller who spoke English! I was so happy I bought bananas, green grapes and over-priced strawberries from him. My last stop was at the freshest looking stand I could find, where I bought on-the-vine tomatoes for weekday sandwiches. I left very happy with myself. Who says you need to speak German to survive the Saturday market?
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