Monday, January 28, 2013

The Tale of the Persistent Baker

I've been on a health kick lately and have figured out that my body and bread don't seem to like each other very much. So far I've been pretty good at skipping bread over the last two months. That is, until we decided to go to France.

On the plane, for dinner, they served us two bread rolls and some cake, as well as the hot meal. Then for breakfast there was cheese on toast, with two more bread rolls. While we were waiting for my dad during the Great Train Fiasco my mom went on a mission at Gare de Bratislava Lyon to find some lunch, and I asked if she could try to find something that wasn't bread. It took quite some time, but she returned with a salad full of croutons. It was the best she could do at a station with cafés called things like Beaucoup du Pain and Pain Delicieux. The whole experience was just... painful.

When we arrived, there was a friendly knock on our door, and there was a lovely English baker who's set up shop in the village. He offered to deliver bread to us, and we said we'd let him know, meaning 'Not bloody likely but thanks anyway.'

Anyway, this morning I woke up in our nice self-catering unit, gazed out at the blizzard that's been going on for about 3 hours now, listen to the sound of anti-avalanche explosions and set off on a mission to the bakery upstairs to get some more milk. But as I opened our door, I fell over not one, but three loaves of bread and a bag full of about 12 huge croissants.

France, you are mocking me.

We have no idea where this bread came from. I think the delivery guy got the wrong address, although we're the only door at the end of a long and very dark corridor. Mom thinks it's a freebie, although I have no idea how three of us are expected to eat it all before it goes off. Dad thinks it's some kind of ambush marketing and that they're going to charge us for it even though we didn't order it. Touché, Monsieur le boulanger.

 I was going to ask the bakery upstairs why this had happened, but this pain is from another baker, it seems. And I have no idea where to find him, and plus, I'd rather build a snowman while I wait for my luggage to arrive.

Huge, fat, floaty flakes of snow. Time to play!

Edit: The day after posting this, we received another, identical delivery of bread and croissants. They thought we could get through all that in ONE DAY? They must be insane. More annoyed phonecalls later and they told us to leave it on the door and that they'd stop.

Today I saw half a loaf of bread on one of the ski runs. It seems we are not alone in our suffering.

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