The War (no, not that one)

I'm really bad at planning. To an extent this is a matter of choice. A well-crafted plan is usually just an invitation to whatever deities have it in for me to fuck with me some more. By avoiding conscious planning, I can instead know with absolute precision that I have no idea what will happen.

But subconscious planning - I'm rather better at that. At Köln Hauptbahnhof, I could murder a Bratwurst. I had euros (at last, now my rental car deposit had been allowed to escape Greece). Motive and a weapon. Except my stomach said no. Five minutes later, I asked again. Nope the tight clenching running the length of the GI tract was unambiguous. Octopuses have a significant proportion of their neurons running semi-autonomously in their tentacles. I think I must have been spliced with octopus genes because along with my complete spinelessness, I also have a near autonomous subset of neurons, only these lining my stomach. A literal as well as metaphoric subconscious.

It had been my designated museum day, but as of 9:30am - the Roman Museum, the Ludwig Museum, the Dom Turm. Geschlossen, geschlossen, and geschlossen. All closed, except one. It wasn't open, but it would be by the time I got there - the Shokoladmuseum. 

'Clever Girl...' By the time I got there, my stomach had metaphorically fixed with me its reptilian stare and was rumbling approvingly.

Ever since the Great Gastro Intestinal War of 2005, a protracted and messy campaign in which my stomach effectively declared itself independent of my governance, the number of sweets I can eat steadily dwindled to two - some nougats and Lindt Dark Chocolate with a Touch of Sea Salt. And the museum was run by Lindt. How did it *know*??

I had been to a chocolate factory before. Cadbury's old factory in Tasmania, was old-school 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' industrial. Molten chocolate had flowed everywhere until the interior had became a Gigeresque landscape impossible to determine where machinery finished and floor or wall began. If you listened carefully you could hear the moans of cocooned colonists and the skittering of face-huggers. But they did feed you. In a proactive and, it must be said, effective anti-theft measure they stuffed us with vast quantities of chocolate, until we wanted to puke.

But not the Shokoladmuseum. One miserable 5g block... of MILK chocolate... DISAPPOINTED!!! If they'd shown me the empty chocolate safe, I would have emptied my (non-existent) pistol into it. As the lovely compound German name suggested, it was a museum, but they did have a significant production capability on site, all done in meticulously clean and completely automated machinery, even finding a role for a retro-futuristic six axis industrial robot - Lindt clearing lacking Cadbury's faith in the vaunted natural anti-microbial properties of chocolate. Importantly, its output was more than capable of catering to visitors' cravings.

But that would have cut into their shops profits, to which I contributed handsomely. Lest it turn on me, my stomach also got a rather nice marzipan nougat, which it consumed without complaint, and I was able to restock my supplies of Lindt Dark Chocolate with a Touch of Sea Salt, and even buy a gift for meine Freunde.

Somewhat unexpectedly the museum also included an exhibit on the cultural history of (the consumption of) chocolate, split between Mesoamerica and Europe. For the former, among the usual Aztec sculptures and blood curdling descriptions of their religious practices, there was also one nugget - much of their expansion south into the cocoa-growing tropics was to secure  their chocolate supplies. I guess of all the reasons to launch a genocidal war of oppression, chocolate has got to be one of the better ones.

The European history was rather more useful. I didn't affect my cravings (that dial already being turned to 11), but I do feel rather less guilty about them. I had foolishly believed the propaganda that chocolate was a sweet, a candy, something BAD for you. Now I know that it is 'one of the most wholesome and pretious drinks, that have been discovered to this day: because in the whole drink there is not one ingredient put in, which is either hurtful in itself or by commixtion; but all are cordial and very beneficial to our bodies, whether we be old, or young', that 'one may live moneths and years using nothing but chocolate', that by drinking it, I am signifying my rightful membership of the better classes, and that it is a good healthful tonic during my lent fast. Now excuse me while I [stuffs face with Lindt Dark Chocolate with a Touch of Sea Salt].

And I DID get my Bratwurst! With my stomach distracted by the nougat, I managed to gulp it down without immediate complaint. Eleven hours later it did retaliate with cramps, but nothing 2 pints of Reissdorf Kolsch (the world's most perfect beer), 5mg of temazepam and 1000mg of aspirin couldn't repulse. 

I might well lose this war. But not today. 

Today was mine.

PS - Peter Watts fiblet - http://www.rifters.com/crawl/?p=5875