German Beer Is Stronger than American Beer.

Route: To the bathroom 47 times last night
Distance: About 100 m each way

You know when 30 beers are just not enough? Also, don’t you hate having to keep getting up and opening another normal sized can of beer every two seconds?
Well, the Germans, with typical efficiency, have solved this problem by making small kegs available for sale at practically every store, gas station, and vending machine that you see. While I definitely was tempted to go the “large” on beer with dinner last night, I knew that purchasing said keg was a commitment that this author was just not willing to make. Well, that and I couldn’t fit it into my backpack.
While speaking English with a wonderfully charming woman I met at the gas station named Mirium, I was running around the inside of the shop grabbing what few items one could term as food. This state of affairs for the evening meal came about because Germany, like France, closes down on Sundays as well. This was the only store in town that was open, and more importantly, took visa.
Mirium could sense that I wasn’t from Germany, and began our conversation by asking what I was doing in town, and if I had a place to stay. She quickly followed this up by saying that she had a husband and three boys, and I was welcome to sleep in the garage. Her husband is a cyclist from Wales, and they offer the garage to other cyclists who come through town.
I was, however, camped in the nicest spot I’ve had yet. It’s in an open grass field surrounded by steep forested hills, and right next to a fresh sounding river. I really wanted to stay where I was, plus I had already paid, so I regretfully turned down her generous offer knowing that I would probably get a lot of stories out of it.
Instead what I did was buy some cheese, salami and beer for dinner. I chose the smaller cousin of the pony keg, which I will term a goat keg. It was a large black can of beer, big enough to keep me happy, but small enough not to affect my performance the next day. This is, of course, before I got half way through it and realized that it was 10%, and by then the damage was already done.
Needless to say, this morning I awoke to the sunlight streaming through the tent, a headache the likes of which I haven’t had since college, and knew that I wasn’t going anywhere today. It was hard even pedaling down the hill to the only open café in town on Monday morning, where I wolfed a breakfast of coffee, various bread product, and cheese. I guess you can’t get omelets in Germany?
Oh well, I needed a rest, and now I’ve got one in the most beautiful little town I’ve yet found. After eating, I walked up to the castle, and climbed the great round watchtower to the top to get the view. The three gorges that this castle commands come together at the point of rock upon which it is perched. From the top of the tower, the little houses, streets and open spaces of the town below clung below the castle like barnacles on a rock at sea. The whole town is organic.
The other great thing about this part of Germany is that it was left pretty much intact by the war. By the time the Allies got this far, the Germans had pretty much all retreated back to the Rhine, which is around 40 km to the east of here. Thank God at least some of these towns and their history were preserved because it is amazingly gorgeous.
As I descended the tower, and rode back through the meandering cobble stones to the camp ground, bleary eyed locals were starting to stir and move about. Yesterday was Sunday, and the town had been filled with motorcyclists and tourists buzzing around, drinking beer, and hanging out at the outdoor cafes. This morning I felt like I was the only one left at the party.
I returned the café where I’d eaten because the locals all seem friendly, and they have power. For the price of a cup of coffee, I get to sit, relax and write to my hearts content. Not bad! Tonight, I will sleep soundly next to the river, the sound of the water running into my dreams, and tomorrow I will make the Rhine.