Sitting in a (distinctly non-Anglo) Saxon café with a glass of black pilsner in my hand, on a terrace overlooking the Elbe as it made its way through Dresden, I could not help but enjoy the discomfort of endless groups of Germans so eager for culture that they submitted themselves to listening to dull tour guides witter endlessly on. The victims looked leg, brain and bildung-weary, and I caught many a glance in the direction of my beer. Well, it's a free country, or so Mrs M says, and local beer is only 60p for 500 ml in the shops (with money back on the bottle), so there's a ready remedy to hand.
All this brought another new German proverb to mind:
In today's Germany, although you're never far from Bildung, you're always closer to beer.
Tomorrow's post is about the difficulties of leaving Berlin. There's also more on the German's soiled reputation for engineering excellence, and a warning about buying a new vacuum cleaner.