Breakfast at the Zoo

Breakfast view

Sunday dawned, and with it the realization that we needed to go and get some food for breakfast. Unlike virtually everyone else on the trip, we'd gone for an Airbnb flat for our accommodation. Not for us the overpriced continental breakfasts they serve up in hotels, no need for us to stand in the queue for cereals wondering where on earth you get the spoons from. No sir. We were going to live like locals, eating what they eat, shopping where they shop. Except that all the locals had bought their food yesterday when the shops were open, and all the food shops were now shut. Sunday opening is not a thing in Germany.

We messaged our Airbnb hosts for help on where to get a bite to eat. The reply came back. 'Go to the zoo'. It was a lovely day, so we did. Leipzig Zoo has apparently been judged "The second-best zoo in Europe". Having been there, I'd now quite like to got to the best one, although I'm not sure how it can better Leipzig. The zoo is vast, and a stone's throw from the city centre. It is peppered with great places to eat, our hosts had suggested three, and we selected the one that lets you eat your breakfast and watch the giraffes go past.

After some discussion at the till about the sensibleness of selecting an "all you an eat" buffet ten minutes before it closes (we didn't in the end) we settled down with our croissant and coffee and did indeed watch the giraffes go past. Today was flagged as the hottest day of the trip and it didn't disappoint. We actually went into the tropical rainforest area to cool off a bit.  If you go to Leipzig, go to the zoo. If you're not going to Leipzig, go to Leipzig and then go to the zoo. You'll thank me. Oh, and eat lunch at the Hacienda. Have the chilli. Then you can thank me again.

We staggered back from the zoo to the flat through the city, noting all the closed food shops as we went past them. We finally found a tiny place that was open which sold about a hundred different kinds of beer. It also sold milk and chocolate biscuits. So, we bought some milk, some biscuits and, of course, some beer, staggered back to the flat and settled down for the night.

Pro-tip that we realised later: shops close on Sunday in Germany. But filling stations do not. Pretty much every petrol station has a mini-supermarket attached and sometimes even a tiny café. We could have nipped to the nearest BP station – our hosts had even noted its location on the map – and stocked up there.