European Sunday

If you haven't spent time in the smaller cities of Europe, you probably haven't noticed how quiet the Sundays are, how many shops are closed and how hard it can be to find food and drink. Where I am, they had a brief flirtation with a Sunday supermarket opening, in the train station, in 2004. The Church and conservative politicians managed to get the laws changed so that the supermarket in the train station was now too big to stay open on Sundays.

What's interesting is, while out running this morning, that people greeted me with 'Morgen', rather than the usual Grüss Gott which is common for these parts. Of course, if you really wanted to greet with God on a Sunday morning, you'd be in Church.

I've had a slightly unspeakable breakfast that used UHT soy cream from a 250ml packet, combined with Weetbix and bananas, because of my current lack of a refrigerator. However, this is a minor inconvenience and I could always pop downstairs for a breakfast in the Raab Mensa. I've chosen not to, as I like to keep the majority of my meals dairy free and the breakfast is pastries, butter and toast with jam. Not so friendly for the lactose intolerant.

I'm not actually complaining about all of this, I'm recording it to read again later. As an inhabitant of the 21st Century First World, in a fairly non-religious country, it is always very interesting to get a taste of a world that I do not have to inhabit. It reminds me of all of the people who never have refrigeration. They also don't have convenient mess halls, or supermarkets open a lot of the time. I am inconvenienced for a single morning. In less than 3 weeks, I will be in a new place, with all of the usual high-commodity living trappings for me to use. I will be down at breakfast in a hotel, contemplating whether I really need another slice of bacon, based on how much running I've been doing. I will be making a mental evaluation of how much food I've eaten, given how much I've paid for the breakfast, as if this has any connection to my physical need.

When I return home, the shops will be open, everyone working there will have a regularly indexed living wage, won't have to survive on tips, are not forced by a combination of government and church to shut for a sabbath that relatively few still observe. Politics and religion always bother me when I see them together, because politics apply to everyone in the state or country, whereas religion is a matter of choice. Or, more importantly, it should be a matter of choice. But that is when I return home. I am still on the road, and the road currently runs through Catholic country, in a place that feels not quite as modern as my hometown.

Today, I shall put on some warm clothes, wander outside to catch the excellent electric tram to town that runs very regularly, and wander around town for a while. A relatively good lunch will follow, and then the afternoon is mine. Tonight, again because of my lack of refrigeration, dinner will probably be Finn Crisp biscuits, olive grissini, tomatoes and a banana. I will not go to bed hungry, nor will I wake up so in the morning. I am very lucky.