Mother Would Be Proud

My mother, an immigrant from Germany, had the uncanny ability to scope out anyone German within a hundred mile radius no matter where she was.  I used to find this humorous and would frequently tease her.
I never appreciated this behaviour until now.

Yesterday, I decided to enjoy the beautiful warm sunny weather and went to Seoul to explore.  It was a wonderful day.  I marvelled at the number of different restaurants within a few blocks; Korean, Japanese, Mexican, Italian, Greek, Mongolian, Moroccan, French, Ethiopian, Indian, Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, American, Spanish.  Then I found a German restaurant and a short while later a German deli.  When I walked into the deli with the delicious aroma of meats and sausages and saw the fresh sour dough buns and apple strudel, and listened to a gentleman in the corner speaking German,  I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

I have never felt homesick, and adjusting to new foods I have generally considered an adventure.  However, hearing, seeing and smelling these memories of home and my childhood was bittersweet.  Yes I miss home.  My answer to this was to purchase a few of my favorite things and surprise Al with a meal of rouladen.

Will I return to that deli?  Probably, if I can find it again.