In Paris, I was wandering late with my parents after an extremely satisfying "rest period" in our AirBNB (we were booking our accommodation for the next day, a reasonably necessary task).[^1] We ducked into a little corner brasserie — which truthfully was nothing more than four circular tables side by side — and the table to the left of us immediately shouted out "are these your parents?!", seemingly confused by our incongruity: a baby-faced, hunched-over 6'5 frame, accompanied by my parents, who are 5'6 on a good day. My mom still has skin better than mine though. Legitimately like a baby's. I seriously wonder where those genetics went. But I digress. This group of friends — who had almost certainly made themselves quite comfortable at the establishment — took my confirmation that, yes, these were almost certainly my parents, as the funniest thing in the world. They began repeating, over and over, that I must have been the product of infidelity. I asked where they were from. And there, in this little brasserie in the late night of Paris, our last night in the French capital, my parents and I discovered our first compatriots, for they hailed from the Beaches area in Toronto. ~ Strasbourg is well-known globally for their Christmas market. In fact, cozy markets dot the entirety of this border city that mixes French, Swiss, and German culture in order to leverage — and support — this reputation. Our first night, we travelled a bit outside of the city to experience an authentic Alsacian meal, reasoning we may be able to escape the hordes of tourists who had already begun to descend onto the markets. Our second night was spent in a sprawling food hall. Both times, we ate the almost-absurd amount of cheese, sausage, and sauerkraut that seems to be the regional speciality, in addition to, naturally, the local flatbread-cream base pizza that seems to be obligatory no matter the meal. In short: when in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in a brasserie, do as you do back home, for you may find a new one — however temporarily. [^1]: If you were ever wondering if my proclivity towards almost-reckless spontaneity would decrease after being with my parents, think again. Where do you think I get it from?