I’ve been working through my old travel diaries a bit, converting the salient bits to a digital form within Travelog. When in Germany several years ago, every lunch that we apparently had consisted of various wursts with beer. Or so the diaries state.
Which reminds me of a paradoxical thought that I had in that regard some time ago.
In New York City, which was my home and/or place of work for a decade and a half, I’d be extremely wary of buying a hot dog on the street. It’s not just that they are outrageously overpriced; I have concerns about what exactly those sausages are made from.
Yet, in Germany, I was buying what, in effect, could be called a hot dog with regularity, not having a single doubt about the quality of the product.
Your brain certainly evaluates things differently when faced with familiar activities in an unfamiliar place.