"It's a biscott!"

Nobody had told me before, but now I know: February is the wettest month in San Francisco. This is just great. Because, you know, before I went, I *did* check the historic weather reports, average temperatures, and I even compared the hours of visible daylight to those in Vienna (San Francisco is slightly better off). But I did not know about the rain. Only when it started raining yesterday and did so for about 20 hours straight, I knew something was wrong. Then I went to the grocery around the corner and the Greek old lady (who reminds me of Momo's Cassiopeia), says: "always so much rrrrain in Febrrruarrry, rrright?" I say "yeah", and smile. I don't know why I smile. Actually her comment makes me sad.

The more I am delighted for the sun to shine this morning! I am so happy for that unexpected change that I take a long walk along Parnassus Street into the neighborhood of Cole Valley. I have planned to have an academic coffee hour at La Boulange, a French place that I had spotted from the streetcar a few days ago. But by 8.40am, it iscompletely packed by the students from the Medical Center of UCSF. So I can only walk on and keep my eyes open for alternatives. I find a small Tully's Coffee at Cole Street. I want a coffee latte and a - well, what is this called? I try it with "that scone there, with the red berries". He looks at me, very serious: "It's a biscott!"

What is it with the vocabulary of bakeries? I hypothesize there is a universal arrogance of people selling rolls and pastries. Try buy a Johannisbeer-Teilchen (German) instead of a Ribiseltascherl (Austrian) in Vienna. You will probably get the same look. Same nasal tone when correcting. (By the way, both words refer to something that, at Tully's coffee, would probably qualify for a cranberry biscott.) When my German friends visit me in Vienna, they are scared to go to the bakery by themselves and ask for exact vocabulary before they dare to. Well, here I am on my own and learn the hard way.

When I leave Tully's coffee, I hold the door open to a woman behind me. She goes: "Thank you so much! You must not be from here!". No, obviously.