Wednesday, January 22, 2014


My first German supermarket was a Rewe. (My last German supermarket was a Kaiser. Which, I mean. There's kind of nowhere to go with that).

Rewe's tagline was Jeden Tag ein bisschen besser. Its own-brand products were called Ja! It was a supermarket with a positive attitude, basically. While you shopped there was Radio Rewe and you got to listen to a lot of Britney and A-ha.

Sometimes there was a guy with a little cart and an implausible hat selling speciality German charcuterie which has spent three hundred years attuning itself to jangling your bacon-ganglions.

Sometimes there was another guy with a cart, stripy umbrella this time, selling German cheese. German cheese is what happened when the committee was all, dudes, our sausages are serious. Our bread is even more serious. We need some weak-ass cheese to even things out a bit. All the Prenzlauerbergers raised snotty hipster eyebrows at the cheese guy. They bought French cheese, because the Wall came down for a damn reason.

At the Rewe you could also buy Häagen-Dazs macadamia nut brittle ice-cream.

There were days when Häagen-Dazs macadamia nut brittle and bootleg episodes of NCIS were all that was getting me to tomorrow. Along with my Rewe carrybag with Jeden Tag ein bisschen besser on it. You had fucking better be right, I'd say to it.  

You can't buy macadamia-nut brittle Häagen-Dasz here.

What even? What the hell is the point of the EU, I ask you?

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