So I decided to go to Houston because there was a store there called The Little Dutch Girl and a pet shop I’d found. I went to the Little Dutch Girl first, because buying one of those might be useful. Just kidding! Don’t buy children, it’s wrong. Anyway, it was situated in the middle of this little strip mall called Old Towne Spring. It was adorable. They had a little German shop, a little Dutch shop, and across from them was The Texan Shop, like “HEY! YOU FORGOT ABOUT THE LOCALS!”
I entered the Little Dutch Girl and was greeted first by a whole wall full of licorice. This I’ll never understand. I can’t imagine any licorice could possibly taste different from another. It’s really fowl stuff… but then there was a small section that went to dry foods and a little fridge with cheese. The rest of the shop was touristy things… wooden shoes, windmills, and blue chinaware.
Today I was looking for candy flakes, the kind you put on toast. I don’t know what they are really called, but they are these little flavored flakes you put on bread and eat. I got some chocolate and some fruit flavored and couldn’t pass up the Stroopwafels. It’s really funny because I decided after eating one that my own home-made versions somehow had surpassed this. Perhaps because I spent four months perfecting an intensely simple recipe.
When the woman at the register rung up these choices she smiled in a sort of strange way, perhaps reflecting on the fact these were odd items, not usually bought by tourists but rather by someone whose eaten them before. I guess I’ll never know.
There was a little German shop next to the little Dutch shop (surprise surprise.) It was cute, though it didn’t please the realists here. Apparently nut crackers, cuckoo clocks, and everything else here wasn’t actually a German thing… I couldn’t care less… As far as I am concerned Germans had me at, “Hey look! An ADORABLE roundy car that allows you to punch people!” Funny enough there wasn’t any VW memorabilia. Shame.
I stopped at a little fried food place. Out of morbid curiosity I got a fried Snickers bar. The fried Snickers bar was rather disappointing. The melty gooey part was wonderful, the batter wasn’t so much. I had to peel it off like I do my fried fish.
I left after this but appreciated this artistic and adorable little enclave of creative spirits, where people walked around wearing full jeans and sweaters as I melted into a puddle.
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