I sat down at the slender, grey-topped table next to the leafy fence that marked the edge of the Gimbsheim Weinbrunnenfest. My company for the evening, all of whom were more than three times my age, could easily have been half the participants in any small town ladies night bingo club.

Expecting to slowly sip a glass of wine or two over conversation of knitting, gardening, or perhaps if it got a little edgy, how so-and-so had stolen someone else’s goulash recipe and passed it off as their own, I settled in with a mild sense of dread. (more…)

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