Saturday, November 03, 2012

Apple Wine and Rest

After the museum I had to admit, that while I was staying on my feet, my feet were killing me. Having been on them for the better part of a week, I really needed to do something that did not require me walking about for a little bit. While the museum was great, my feet were killing during the last leg of the museum. My ankle was fairing little better also, so much so that getting up and down stairs had required a small amount of assistance from my erstwhile tour guide of an Engineer.

"I think I'm going to need to sit down for a bit."

"We should be able to find something close by; do you want to eat?"

"Actually, according to my tour book I am supposed to drink some apple wine, as it is the traditional drink made in the city."

"I can help with that." We walked out around five and into the interminable clanging of the church bells. I'd seen three churches from the rooftop overlook and apparently they all went off and kept going off for a good fifteen minutes while we walked and didn't talk very much (as the noise was so loud). Through pointing, a bit of giggling, and some shouting, we managed to find a restaurant with a nice outdoor area for sitting, and even with the bells, decided to take our chances and have a seat at the fancy wire tables. I quickly unzipped my shoes to give my legs a little freedom, and luxuriated in sitting down for a bit.

My lovely Engineer took care of ordering the drinks with me getting an applewiessen and a beer for himself.

Here is where translating can be annoying. The guide book said clearly that the drink of the land was an apple wine, but had I known anything about beer at all I would have known that the applewiessen was actually a type of apple beer, or more properly, cider. Which meant it was a amber-colored dark cloudy brew that was set in front of me. Since it was my last day in Germany I decided to let go and enjoy a few carbsI'd been quite good on my trip, and so I prepared to have the first glass of beer I'd had in probably eight years.

"I am curious to see what you think of it." said my companion.

"Why is that?"

"Well, most people either like it or hate it. Some think it is an acquired taste, and well, a few people think the third one tastes better than the first."

I smiled. I sipped. Altogether it was not bad: it had a faint taste of apples, and was carbonated but not overly so, a very smooth drink. It wasn't sweet, either, which I had sort of expected (it being a cider). In all, I was pleased with the product and happy to sip on it.

"What do you think?"

"It's good. Different. It's not sweet. Is it supposed to be cloudy like this?"

"Yes; you can get it more filtered until it's clear, but the most traditional way is this way."

I liked a good tradition. We sat in the cooling evening as the dusk began to settle in, drinking and talking and laughing.

"Dinner?"

"Yes; do you have something in mind?"

"Do you think you can walk a little further? If you can I have a place in mind that is just past the river."

"I think I can manage."

And so with an outstretched hand I was assisted back onto my sore feet and we began to walk a bit more in search of food.

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