Yesterday I found in a small Turkish shop, near to my working place, a box with fresh sour cherries. Small, dark-red, waiting for four me in a corner. It was the last box. At the beginning, I did not share if they were my loved sour cherries. So, I look around me, left, right, and I found the courage to taste one. It was that childhood taste of staying with a bowl full of sour cherries in front of the TV, watching La Tour de France. So, I took the box and go happily to pay them. My first box with sour cherries for this year.
It is good to know that we don’t have sour cherries so often here in Germany. In Switzerland neither. Last time when I ate them when than C and A visited me and bring me a good portion from Romania, knowing that these are my favorite fruits.
Because of that, yesterday I had the feeling that Munich becomes a little bit my home. And it was a good feeling.