[A breakfast repost while I’m moving houses]

Moving to a new country where you don’t speak the language is hard, especially when the new country is Scotland, and the language is one I thought I’d been speaking since birth. Take yesterday’s conversation with the dog sitter. She and her husband are incredibly nice people who probably think I’m recovering from some traumatic brain injury because I have to take several moments to mentally translate everything they say to me.

Me: “We’re back.”

Her: “That’s you!Yer’wee dug haes hud her tea enna wee. I’ll sorter kitten’sheel bee-sa chuffed yeer-bin.”

Me: “…”

(Note for those who don’t speak Glaswegian: no kittens, tea, or bins were harmed in this statement. Actual translation: “You’re all set. Your little dog has had her dinner and piddle. I’ll gather her things and she’ll be delighted you’re back.”) Don’t hate me, but I must admit I was hoping to hear the dog had a little piddle (wee wee) but no such luck.

At Village Coffee a few months ago, talk turned to an even more fundamental difference than local accents: what constitutes an acceptable morning meal. Friends who had been to my hometown, Seattle, were appalled at the shocking fare the Americans there consider breakfast. “People get up in the morning and have yoghurt with some muesli over the top. And coffee,” said one traveller. Heads shook in disbelief before another pounded a final nail into that coffin. “There weren’t even any beans.”

So here’s your international quiz. Can you figure out which countries start their day with the following fare?

Hint: who else would have a stiff enough upper lip to manage beans AND blood pudding before even getting a cuppa?

Hint: ketchup. And chocolate chip pancakes.

Hint: You say potato, I say vodka…

Hint: What kind of barbarian eats flesh before noon?

Hint: Guinness—so much more than just a breakfast food

How do you start your day?

Breakfast of Champions: vodka and 50 lb. of caviar