i don't remember how much the price was in indian rupees but i remember that i was sitting down for a meal in a cozy restaurant that was not filled with tables and nothing else like the place i could buy Döner back in Berlin. i ate a meal of curries, rice and bhatura from a banana leaf. i would never eat this unhealthy today but back then i did. i tell you the price in a second.
it was exotic, tropical, alive. the place i was born and grew up in seemed like a black and white photograph in comparison. there were so many people working everywhere. every little store had like 10 employees. the people did not seem hurried or pressured. they weren't trying to be anywhere else. quiet dignity of people who are not trying to pressure me to do anything; which is the complete opposite of the place i was born in. this was hitting me as i sat in this restaurant. the absence of pressure on me to be anything.
so i was eating good food in a place of kind people that did not treat me like a slave for the first time in my life and the price they were asking for this meal was like 1,10€.
the difference in experience drives me crazy.
at home for 6€: eating my food standing up like i would swallow a pill for 6€ times the price, like i was a patient in a mental assylum for 6€
at this magical place for 1,10€: in the warm presence of humans who are not as rotten and evil as the people
the meal in the restaurant btw. was also made by the people in the restaurant. it was made. like a piece of art. the cook made everything. where i live, the meals are not made by skilled people who make everything local. they are produced somewhere where it is the cheapest and just the last step is made at the point of sale. only luxury restaurants would could afford the costly labour to make bread themselves.
Anonymous
loc-DE
image.png
i don't remember how much the price was in indian rupees but i remember that i was sitting down for a meal in a cozy restaurant that was not filled with tables and nothing else like the place i could buy Döner back in Berlin. i ate a meal of curries, rice and bhatura from a banana leaf. i would never eat this unhealthy today but back then i did. i tell you the price in a second.
it was exotic, tropical, alive. the place i was born and grew up in seemed like a black and white photograph in comparison. there were so many people working everywhere. every little store had like 10 employees. the people did not seem hurried or pressured. they weren't trying to be anywhere else. quiet dignity of people who are not trying to pressure me to do anything; which is the complete opposite of the place i was born in. this was hitting me as i sat in this restaurant. the absence of pressure on me to be anything.
so i was eating good food in a place of kind people that did not treat me like a slave for the first time in my life and the price they were asking for this meal was like 1,10€.
the difference in experience drives me crazy.
at home for 6€: eating my food standing up like i would swallow a pill for 6€ times the price, like i was a patient in a mental assylum for 6€
at this magical place for 1,10€: in the warm presence of humans who are not as rotten and evil as the people
the meal in the restaurant btw. was also made by the people in the restaurant. it was made. like a piece of art. the cook made everything. where i live, the meals are not made by skilled people who make everything local. they are produced somewhere where it is the cheapest and just the last step is made at the point of sale. only luxury restaurants would could afford the costly labour to make bread themselves.
