For our first day in Strasbourg, out of experience from past trips, we went into tourist survival mode. Some of our past trips have been in a group with a determined guide and an ambitious agenda, and if we were going to get to whatever abbey or famous birthplace was on that agenda, meals could be delayed.
So we foraged from the hotel's breakfast offerings, pocketing an apple here, a granola bar there, reminiscent of that scene in Heidi where Shirley Temple stuffed her pockets full of dinner rolls.
Three days later, we've only been traveling sporadically in group formation, so now we're enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of autonomy over our lives. We can actually drop into a cafe when the mood hits and sample the local strudel or test out why the linsertorte is so renowned.
Still, old habits die hard and every morning we've been stoking up at the breakfast spread like grizzlies with winter breathing over their shoulders. Plus, I suspect the staff was trained by the witch from Hansel and Gretal. They're apparently as focused on fattening us up as if they have a hot oven waiting with our name on it. Bread baskets are never empty and wine glasses are perpetually full.
On our return, if I'm going to cancel out these days of dining nirvana, I should leave our empty refrigerator at home just exactly the way it is.