How many times have you heard something along the lines of, "seriously, he was as dull as a rock! All we could talk about was the weather!" If you're anything like me, than many. Here's the thing. In America, talking about the weather carries a certain cliche. It's something we consider "small talk", maybe a "safe subject" that you talk about when literally there are no other options. Let me tell you. In Europe, it's totally different. At any given time, 95% of every European knows the weather forecast in at least three different cities. Not only that, but it's an important topic of conversation. This weekend, I learned why.
Since last weekend was such a hit, we decided to have another picnic/BBQ. This time we chose a nice spot along the Isar River. Everyone brought stuff to grill, and we met up and got the fire roastin'. Now, before I left, my host dad did his usual weather-update before I leave. He lets me know the temperature for the week, and what exactly I should be expecting. As I left yesterday, he warned me it was going probably going to rain. I looked outside. It was a perfect 65 degree day. The birds were chirping. Children were playing. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Rain? psh. I thought. He was wrong once before. And then I left, in my dirndl and flip-flops, ignoring his important advice.
We arrived to a beautiful spring day. There were many people outside and lots of others BBQing. We spread out blankets and food and start cookin'.
Literally, all of a sudden, these creepy dark clouds roll in. We knew we were in for trouble. The first drops start to fall. "It will blow over", says Walter. Two minutes later, the skies are open and are letting us have it. It is pouring so hard. Some run for shelter. Others, myself included, look up and give thanks.
Despite our best efforts. We are thoroughly soaked. But it really wasn't that bad. And then it began to hail. Not just like little hail, but big, hard, chunks of white bullet hail. It really wasn't that pleasant.
Eric was kind enough to lend Sammy his dry, "E-RAGS" shirt.
Not knowing what to do, we pack up, and head to Walter's house. Now. Walter has brought a BBQ. That begs the question: How does one travel with a BBQ using public transport?
My question was answered: Teamwork.
And honestly, the weirdest thing was, I don't think this is out of the ordinary. Oh you know, just another day with me and my BBQ on the U-Bahn.
Moral of the story is: Next time Bernhard tells me the weather forecast, I think I'll listen.
Since last weekend was such a hit, we decided to have another picnic/BBQ. This time we chose a nice spot along the Isar River. Everyone brought stuff to grill, and we met up and got the fire roastin'. Now, before I left, my host dad did his usual weather-update before I leave. He lets me know the temperature for the week, and what exactly I should be expecting. As I left yesterday, he warned me it was going probably going to rain. I looked outside. It was a perfect 65 degree day. The birds were chirping. Children were playing. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Rain? psh. I thought. He was wrong once before. And then I left, in my dirndl and flip-flops, ignoring his important advice.
We arrived to a beautiful spring day. There were many people outside and lots of others BBQing. We spread out blankets and food and start cookin'.
Not knowing what to do, we pack up, and head to Walter's house. Now. Walter has brought a BBQ. That begs the question: How does one travel with a BBQ using public transport?
My question was answered: Teamwork.
Moral of the story is: Next time Bernhard tells me the weather forecast, I think I'll listen.
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