推薦-Dew - chef's wine and gourmet
Comparable to its French neighbors that sometimes employed trains with conspicuous graffiti, this is obviously a nation that prides itself with discipline, conciseness, and belief.
Its boldness certainly did not disappoint—the insides of the cabins were wiped clean down to the last details, the seats accommodated spaciousness that exuded welcoming comfort and warmth with ergonomic considerations in its backdrop(background), and washrooms were equipped with precise pragmatic luxuries that were no more and no less.
Everything about Germany's cuisines and its people has mesmerized me, especially how beers have willfully and freely flown from its taps and how liberated people are towards the fermented beverage being an essential part of their daily life.
I—according to the people around me—am an individual with precise disciplines and specific attitude and standards towards the work that I do. My parents have always suggested how at ease I would have been should I ever find Germany to be my new home as I would have shared with them many similar ideas, attitudes, and work habits.
So it was that time around, that I found my way into the German world—its cultures, and traditions, rich and unyielding, have strongly rooted and shaped every aspect that is representative of them. Although their histories have marred the very positive impression of this nation in general, they are undoubtedly and singlehandedly in the modern times, the very foundation and the keeper of the European continents.
Where I used to live in Vancouver, the highlight was that there was a backyard to our family house—few levels below our basement in the downward hilltop. It was not the kind adorned with beautiful flowering plants, meticulously trimmed hedges, gingerly manicured lawns, nor was there anything that radiated manmade geometrica influences. It was that random, yet orderly, lively and present in its natural grandeur kind of way. A creek, long before our time, had obliquely dissected the backyard in two, renovated its contents like an aquarium tank, except with the most crude and natural elements one could ever hope to find—of the river pebbles, big and small, the slippery lichens, of various sorts, the aquatic plants, above and below, and occasionally the passer-by leafy boats that quickly capsized in the torrents down the stream.
From the family windows above overlooking our haphazard backyard, my mother would often find me crouched down below, hands and arms glaringly appeared and disappeared amongst the unyielding bushes and the tall summer grasses.
Flipping over the rocks, Iwould find earth worms and centipedes scurrying along in directions that promised discernible shades. Hands with a stick, and I would flail my arms to beat around the bush in anticipation of the startled crickets, the butterflies, and the moths that urgently flapped their wings into the sky.
That little backyard, wild and untamed, was my most valued treasure chest—unknown to the passer-by—held a world of celestial wonders, and untold wisdoms. Bathed in such environment, I had likely picked up an observant attitude in life.
Keeping a keen eye, the corners of my eyes would always reveal something of interest. Asking about why roast ducks were served during the Good Fridays and why kale leaves were in full bloom during the winter seasons. Indulging in such interest would soon ensue details and inquiries that ultimately bring about memorable stories with depths to highlight any potential travels and daily happenings. It was then about the quests into the parts of the world where I roamed, rumbled, and lingered.
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