I’m not sure how I got there. It was five-thirty on a Sunday morning in Hamburg, Germany, and I was in the middle of a fish market. On stage in front of me, a band vied for the attention of the crowd with the beer vendors. The shouting cries of bantering fish prices between hardened men and even harder women could be heard above both the music and the beer sellers. In the far corner, a stand-up comedian entertained a group who were eating smoked eel for breakfast. The couple beside me in black leather with piercings in their lips and through their eyebrow slammed their bodies into one another in some sort of dance to the crashing sounds of the music. Where was I?

Last thing I remember, I was trying to keep pace with shots of Jagermeister over dinner. That was Saturday night. It was now Sunday morning. Apparently, I was lost.

As night slid into morning, I wandered from the bar my friends had wound up at to the open-air market in search of something to make for lunch when everyone arose.