Bavaria
We’ve been cruising and wandering through Bavaria, and Bavaria is to Germany what Texas is to the U.S. Ask a local where they’re from and it’s Bavaria, not Germany. They conveniently ignore some federal laws here (there are 16 German states in the Republic) and proudly so. They live for beer. They look down on the Austrians just up the river.
Everything seems to be made with pork or veal, or is a pretzel, and most food comes with sauerkraut. They have a healthy breakfast, a large lunch, and then a substantial dinner. The lederhosen come in some very large sizes.
Yet there is the unmistakable German touch. You do not cross unless the light is green, despite the fact that you can see a mile in either direction and there isn’t a vehicle in sight. You pay for a concert, are given a ticket, and someone a few feet away takes it, puts a slight rip in it, and hands it back. When the shuttle time says “half hour departures” you can believe it more than the law of gravity.
Locks raise and lower 300-foot boats over a hundred feet in a few minutes. The pilot hours sinks into the deck to allow the boat under low bridges. They even collapse the deck chairs! You take a boarding pass to leave the boat, and if they don’t get every 
one back every time, they search the ship for you, screaming your name over the public address system.
I have to admit, the beer here is quite good, and I’m not a beer drinker. But the “normal” serving is a full liter—a few of these could fill my Bentley’s gas tank—and l’ve seen people drink more than one at a sitting.
Three weeks ago we were in Venice, and I’d no more want to fall into the Danube than a Venice canal. But, who knows? With enough beer and sauerkraut, anything is possible.
© Alan Weiss 2016
