When I arrived in Hamburg Hauptbanhof, this time by day and in a far better mood than I had been in on the Paris-Arhus trip, I decided to make the most of my 1 and a half hour layover and go for a bit of klassisch Deutsch (classic German). I spoke as much in German as possible, fetched a authentisch Hamburgs gift for my next hosts, explored the station, and headed to lunch. After scouring the station for the most German-sounding thing to eat, I settled on a bratwurst at the Imbissstube, a kind of stand-as-you-eat snack bar. Approaching the counter, I called out “Ein Bratwurst, bitte!” Thinking I was done, I turned to pay, but the guy behind the counter shouted something intonated like a question but otherwise too fast for my linguistically-gridlocked brain to take. He held up a Brötchen (a roll) and I nodded yes, please. Another Kauderwelsch (gobbledygook) question, another nod. He told me my bill and I walked out with a hot bratwurst and a big ol puddle of senf, a kind of very peppery mustard. Success, authentically.
Off to the picnic tables on the second level to eat, with a full view of the train hall. My Danish friend had packed me a breakfast for the train (because she is awesome and a total sweetheart! Thank you, Malin!), which included a sandwich and an orange and a drink. Unfortunately, I hadn’t accounted for the effect of four hours of slightly-vibrating train might have on a bottle of lemon soda… The noise of my bottle popping open made everyone within 30 feet stare at me while the cap went flying up and over the balcony into the train yard while I was stuck with a mouthful of German sausage and a face full of slightly lemony sugar water.
Ah well. At least the Bratwurst was delicious.