Off to beer land

Once again, we left our run for the bus to Dusseldorf a bit late. This has become a nasty habit of ours, not leaving ourselves enough time to make the next transport. We left Animesh’s with seemingly enough time. It would have been quicker if we had declined breakfast but we were glad of the food in our bellies. A brisk walk to the tram stop down the road and it came along soon enough. Trams on each line come along about every 15 minutes or so, give or take. We had to change trams a few stops along to get to Amstral Station, a major train station that also had a bus terminal beside it. Getting the right tram line to change to took a few guesses before we got it right. We still hadn’t got the hang of vehicles travelling on the other side of the road to Australia and to boot the tram lines both run in the middle of the road. So while we eventually figured it out, time was ticking away and we needed the next tram to come along within the next 10 minutes if we had any hope of making our bus to Dusseldorf on time.
Minutes ticked by and Sam and I were both getting anxious and snappy. We began to check passing cars for taxis, deciding that if the tram wasn’t there in the next two minutes we would have to get one.
Thankfully, as we said it, the tram came around the bend and while it was packed and standing room only, we managed to squeeze on. It was a long and uncomfortable ride, not least because we had no idea how long it would take for us to get to our destination and whether we would make our bus in time.
More stops, more people embarked and disembarked and Sam was looking at his watch every few seconds.
Finally, with about five minutes to spare, we arrived at the tram stop at the train station. Now what? Where the hell were all the buses? We followed the crowd into the terminal because it seemed like the wisest course of action. It was pure luck that as we moved through the terminal we spied through a side entrance the Eurolines terminal. A quick change of direction and we sped toward the check in office as fast as our 20kg packs would allow us to go.
We had no idea whether our bus was still there or not as the waiting buses didn’t have any signs on them to indicate their destination.
We checked in and were relieved to learn the bus was still there and not in any great hurry to leave.
Out of the office and across the lot, we stowed our luggage underneath and boarded the bus. It was relatively empty and someone was already snoring laying across the next to back seat.
As buses go, it was fine, but both Sam and I were still on edge after another close call that could have seen us miss our second bus this trip.
“Let’s not do that again,” Sam said. “I thought I was going to be sick I was so anxious.”
So, having agreed we would definitely get up earlier in future - because 6am isn’t early enough to get a 8.45 bus, we settled into our journey.
The bus pulled away from the terminal and we were off to Germany.
Unfortunately what should have been a two and a half hour trip from Amsterdam to Dusseldorf actually took us about four hours because the bus stopped in various places along the way. At each one, we would wait about 15 minutes for new passengers to board.
It was at this time, two children sitting behind us, who had been quiet until now, decided playing with their new favourite toy would be a fun thing to do for the next two hours. It so happened it was a noisy toy that you pressed to make some sort of WWF grrr sound. After about 10 minutes I was ready to shove this toy up this kid’s nose. It. Was. Annoying. As. Buggery. And the parents, she-man as the mum was, did nothing.
So, by the time we arrived in Dusseldorf we were well and truly over kids and ready to meet Anne-Marie. The question was would she be there and would we know who she was.
But it seemed two lost Aussies weighed down by giant packs are easily recognised by other Aussies, even if Anne-Marie is more French than Aussie now.
We met like old friends and she explained that she had borrowed a car to pick us up as hers has only two seats.
She had to go straight back to work but she had keys for us to her apartment, we were welcome to use her car while we were here and to make ourselves at home. We were overwhelmed by this stranger’s generosity - even if Kate and Hugues do get married (lol) she will be like family.
We dumped our bags, had a quick freshen up, then armed with a map provided by Anne-Marie went in search of the old town or Alt Stadt.
We found it easily enough and grab a quick bite to eat (I am in love with shoko croissants) and had a wander around the tourist centre. The Alt Stadt is right on the Rhein and a haven for beer drinkers. Dusseldorf is stuffed full of breweries that brew one beer exclusively. There was also plenty of eateries, bars and cafes.
Before long it was time to head back and meet Anne-Marie. With no idea what was in store, Anne-Marie said we would end back into the old town and try and some real German beer and food. Now, not being a beer drinker, I didn’t know how I was going to go with this beer business. But it seemed once we got there I didn’t have much choice. At these breweries they sell only one type of beer and that’s there’s and when you order, you order a beer and everyone gets the same. There were dozens of locals standing outside enjoying a glass or several brought out by grumpy old men who looked to have been in the job since birth. The beers are put on the table or bar and a stroke for each is marked on a coaster. As more beers are ordered, more marks are made. This is your tab. A stroke for each beer and when you’re ready to move on, you call over a grumpy old man and pay on the spot. It was a great system but I can see it would be easy to over drink your budget.
After one drink we needed to find Anne-Marie some food and set off in search of a typical German snack - and forgive the spelling but we think it was schwine brotchen - grilled pork in a small bun. It was delicious and fast and full of grease. Pork, we were to learn and in fact all meat, was a German staple.
Another beer washed down the food and it was on to the next brewery to try yet another beer. Beer in Dusseldorf is alt beir, or old beer. Ask for a white beer in Dusseldorf and you will get a funny look and probably told to piss off.
As we went along, the beer was to me becoming better but maybe that was my palate adjusting. Having had enough of beer it was time for a cocktail at Mai Tai, Anne-Marie’s favourite cocktail bar that made almost everything with real fruit. They were huge and delicious and we all found one we liked. We sat back and enjoyed watching the flow of people as they walked by and talked all things German, French and Australian.
After every last drop of Strawberry Colada was gone we headed to yet another brewery and another beer. By this time Sam and I were in need of some serious sustenance and tried to order some very German food known as Heaven and Earth but they were out. We settled for schnitzel instead, even though it’s actually Austrian.
With food in our bellies and beer there was one last stop before heading back to Anne-Marie’s - a shot of Killepitsch (or kill the bitch as AM calls it). It’s a liquor somewhat like Jagermeister and just as potent. It’s made exclusively in Dusseldorf and you can’t get it anywhere else. We ordered it out of a bar closing for the night (it was close to 1am) out of a hole in the wall and without too much ceremony downed the shots. It burns on the way down but has a somewhat pleasant aftertaste.
After that it was just a 15-minute walk home and we were well and truly ready for bed after our long day.
Alysia (August 2)

We woke late the next day having enjoyed the peace and quiet. Alysia was keen to get out and explore but the previous day had tested me - I wanted more order in what we were doing. So we stayed in all day to plan the next leg. This could be a mistake or it could be a masterstroke.
Searching online we could not find a single cheap train fare along the western border into Switzerland, like I had a month before. And more troubling, any train ride would require several changes - and connections were something we had grown to loathe. We didn’t have anywhere in Switzerland to stay either. The hours flew by. Then we found a comparatively cheap flight from “Dusseldorf” to Pisa and cheaper than all those connecting trains. “You beauty! We’ll have that”. It even made sense, cutting out a lot of Italy that we weren’t keen on and saving us some back tracking. We even found accommodation in Pisa before making the leap - and Florence. The tide was turning and I was not at all upset we had spent all day planning this.
We left the unit for the river, with Anne-Marie’s spare mobile, for a drink. The plan being to meet up with her after work. We drank beer and felt good. But somehow the phone had been on silent and it was only by chance I noticed the missed calls. Poor AM had been back home ironing wondering where we were.
We met up soon after and went straight for dinner at one of the breweries from the night before. None of us could decide but we settled on what was in essence a test to see how much we could eat - we had no idea and AM missed it somehow too. We were all shocked when we received a platter of two “exploded” pork shoulders (one grilled one baked) along with sausage, white sausage, pork fillet, sauerkraut, fried potato and mashed potato. The jolly German delivered the platter with a rousing cautionary that went over my head. Evidently he said I was obviously keen to look after my women and would ensure they ‘ate up’. The girls soon had their fill but I battled on through the field of meat. No sauce. Just meat. And sauerkraut. I found the mustard-like condiment too late. All the while our waiter kept ordering us more beers and “sharing” more German words with me while I just nodded and smiled. Alysia did nothing to help break the cycle throwing in the occasional “ja” to his pleasure. I spread the leftovers out to make it look like we’d done better. AM, feeling bad, asked him for a doggie bag. He even insisted on giving us more sauerkraut to take home, to Alysia’s dismay. “It’s the dirtiest stuff ever,” she reckons.
The cocktails beckoned the women, something sweet to cut through all the meat, with the bar from the night before situated just around the corner. Liking what AM had last night Alysia ordered the same while I had something with several shots (rum one of them) and pineapple juice. After a big one the night before, we grabbed an early sort of night and a taxi home.
Sam (August 3)

Our last day in Dusseldorf. Germany in fact. So we went to Cologne to see the tallest cathedral in the world - OK, Germany to be precise at 157 metres. After the trek to the train station that is. And after we navigated the ticket machine. Oh and had our ticket validated by an orange box that stamps the date on it. But true to form the German train was right on time, maybe only a minute late. Quite impressive when they run so frequently.
True to what I had read the gothic cathedral was right on the steps of the train station in Cologne. Or Koln as the Germans write/say it. So we marched right up the stairs and into the cathedral. And came back out again. We’d struck the daily service and would have to come back later. So we took some photos from the outside. Only problem is the thing is so tall you have to shoot with a wide setting and then of course the thing looks like it’s falling over backwards. The only thing more troubling was the local boys dressing and gesturing like they were gangsters in an US music clip.
Like Dusseldorf, Koln has its alt (old) town. Wending our way through its streets we found the really wide and fast-flowing River Rhein. And on it numerous cruise boats. It was at this point we felt pretty frustrated that we were not going on to Mainz, further south, to jump on such a vessel to explore its wine country and castles - the main reason I wanted to pass through Germany in the first place. If only we had a car and a valid licence. Alas, on we walked, away from the river and up the hill. I’m glad we did because we managed to stumble on an excavation of some Roman ruins. This was not a tourist thing but we watched a little while. Hoisting each bucket of soil up out of the ground and running it through a sieve. Part of the excavation was even sealed off from the elements, under a marquee of sorts. Within it the maze of a Roman basement.
But other than this we felt there was little to do. We tracked down a Turkish kebab shop and ordered some currywurst - spicy curry-based sauce on sausage, seeing as I was denied the night before. It was OK, more sweet than hot. Then I had to grab one of Koln’s pilsners as AM had insisted and when it comes to beer I’m not going to argue. But the waitress was. Alysia didn’t want anything but unless she ordered, she’d be booted out of this alfresco dining area. So she had a beer too. This single gesture really pushed us. We weren’t feeling the love, you could say, and decided we were glad to be leaving Germany. It’s a shame really because I’ve met lovely Germans in the past. It was quite troubling. And I could understand more fully what Mark, our Brussels host, had said about how he rates holiday destinations. People were the key he said. Maybe the people we had come across were simply jaded by the huge number of dumb tourists, just like us, who speak virtually none of the language. I was almost ready to declare we would not go anywhere else unless we spoke the language. Apparently many Germans speak English but loathe to do it, like it’s an insult to their heritage.
We had to check in for our flight the next morning online so we found an internet café and got to work. Luckily it went without a drama and we could head back to the cathedral and take our time. To be safe we bought a couple of one euro ponchos as the rain had set in and skied our way across the granite courtyard back to the cathedral. It was quite tall inside too with the most impressive stained glass windows we had seen yet. Remarkably, the cathedral escaped significant damage during WWII even though the allied forces used the church as a navigational point when flying, so big it was. Or still is. With an equally big footprint at 12,470 square metres. Another interesting tid bit: it was started in 1248 but not completed until 1880. It also has a shrine behind the altar to the three magi, reputed to hold the remains of the three wise men, shifted from Milan in the 12th century. Which we wished we had known at the time.
And our time was up, so we skidded back to the train station, me laughing and cursing Alysia’s thongs at the same time. Back on the train it was Alysia’s turn to sleep this leg after I managed to touch base with AM. We were going to decline dinner as we would have to get an airport transfer bus at 3.30am, so far out of town was the “Dusseldorf” airport. We didn’t want to impose on AM anymore, so much she had already done for us. And that was that I thought. But she insisted she would drop us at the airport, leaving her place at 6.30am. She would not take ’no’ and by the time we had drawn into Dusseldorf, had arranged a loan of a work car to complete the deed.
We hadn’t long been back at AM’s, about a half our walk from the station, when the bell rang - she was here to take us to dinner in the black Audi A3 diesel. “This one can only do 220km/h on the autobahn,” she informed us, well, me really. And yet I managed to decline another invitation to drive her Audi TT on the autobahn.
We were having drinks for one of AM’s colleagues, an American on summer vacation from uni. His dad worked for the company in the US. The location was the old Dusseldorf train station which was converted to a bar some time ago. Out of the cellar staff were winching small keg after small keg of the same beer, the one brewed on site, giving some indication of how much patrons were enjoying it. And cigarettes too. We thought AM was the chain-smoking exception. Evidently, Dusseldorf is the last bastion of smoking in Germany. The place was thick with the stuff. Worse than in Amsterdam. If you didn’t smoke, that was your bad luck.
Sam (August 4)