We made pizza last night for the first time since we have been back. We used to eat it once a week but, somehow, with all the renovations, no oven, new ingredients, we just hadn't put it on the menu.
We tried to make it 'just like old times' and to our taste buds it was pretty damn good.
But
Matthew's guests (it was his 17th birthday party) just wanted to know where the pineapple was ... and why anyone would put onion on a pizza ...
We hadn't thought of either of these points as a huge cultural difference but apparently they are. We hadn't realised that we had absorbed so much of Europe as not to notice what wasn't normal.
Like our clocks.
'What's with all the 24 hour clocks?' the young men asked. We looked ... we looked puzzled. We hadn't though anything of it. It was 20:10. A fine pizza time. But apparently we should've had all our clocks set to 8:10. Well, that would just look weird to us.
Maybe we have really absorbed small bits of European life more than we had appreciated.
