A few quick photos while SH runs across the street to the train station to get some brats and saurkraut. Yes. I know we can get brats and sauerkraut in Milwaukee. It's not the same. We can't get train station brats and sauerkraut there.
I would have gone for him so he could work but my feet, they are sobbing. And that's even though I wore my (ugly, dirty, tacky, swore I'd never wear in public) running shoes today, yesterday, and Sunday. Running shoes on cobblestone for three days still = sore feet. I might be forced to visit the (ugly, tacky, swore I'd never wear ever) Birkenstock store tomorrow.
German maps appear to be good. The key is to make sure that you are actually paying attention to the "X" that the front desk guy at the hotel put on your map to mark the hotel. The key is to turn right on Bayerstrasse when you leave the hotel and not left, because turning left will take you away from the town center and the places you want to see and into an industrial area where the people you ask for help DO NOT SPEAK ENGLISH. Between the two of us, SH and I can get by in French, Spanish, Italian and Portuguese, plus I can swear in Hungarian, at least if Sally D did not lead me astray in 9th grade which I don't think she didn't because I once asked a Hungarian guy if "curva onyat" meant what told me it meant and he turned purple. But we do not speak any German. Fortunately, you do not need to speak German to buy beer, pretzels or cheese, so we have not starved yet.
Food stalls at the Viktuals place.
Our beer and big-a@@ pretzel.