This changed everything, for once we were with someone who spoke both
German and English, so we went to a bar. I forget the name of this place but
it was one of those places that have stuff crammed into every corner. It had
a old-fashioned theme with a player piano, spittoons and lots of old junk,
but it was comfortable. We tried the Kolsch, might as well have ordered a
Bud or Miller or Coors, light and no character at all. We switched to
weizen, and decided to try someplace recommended by Mike Jackson, so we got
directions to P.J. Fruh's Colner Hofbrau.

     Even though we had a local to translate, the directions were bad, so
Gerda asked a couple of guys working in a ditch in the street. She said the
workmen know where everything is, and she was right. After not a very long
walk we were there. The place was real busy, but we got a table, ordered a
Kolsch and some food. Surely the Kolsch would be better here, Mike gave it 3
stars. Yuck, any corner tappy in America could serve up beer like this, this
is not why we traveled to Europe. We switched after one. Had a decent meal
though, sausages, potatoes, and sauerkraut.

     After leaving Fruh's we walked around town for a while, checked out the
riverfront and then walked Gerda back to the train station, as she was
expected at her boyfriend's later that evening. He is a Croatian named Vito.
She showed us pictures of her house in a small village on the outskirts of
Kaiserslauten, further south, and invited us to come and stay with her
before we left for America. We told her we would call her and let her know
if we were coming if we had the time. We left her after she boarded her
train.

     We returned to a bar called the Beer Museum that we had passed on our
walk. It had a large variety of beers. Tried the Kolsch one last time,
strike three. I then had a Beck's, because Petr in Dusseldorf had told me
that the Beck's in Germany was much better than in America. He was wrong. It
didn't have the hoppiness that the American version has. It seems that most
people all over the world, prefer bland beer. Ooooh, watch out some flavor
might just invade your mouth.

     We did get the car out of the automated garage with no problem, it was
just monkey see, monkey do.

     Went back to the hostel and had a Paulaner there. Finally, a beer with
taste. Man that stuff is good, the helles, better than the dunkle. The bar
at the hostel was nice but we wanted to check out the place across the
street, Peter's, as it looked interesting.

     It was. They served a weizen in there which was much lighter than any
other we had seen, a straw color, but had a full taste. I didn't catch its
name. It probably isn't available in America anyway. They had a dartboard so
we stayed and shot darts and drank the terrific weizen until closing. The
barman, Robert, spoke English, as well as the DJ/cook, who made us something
even after the kitchen was closed. I think he liked Americans, as all the
music he played was American. The joint was jumpin'. Zeke tried to show some
people how to drink tequila shots. They were doing the lemon, the salt, then
the tequila, but they just didn't get it.

     After returning to our room, we had a guest, sleeping soundly in one of
the other bunks. We crashed. Upon waking, our roommate was gone. This was my
first real good hangover in Europe, so I did what I always do. Take two
Alka-Selzer and get moving. We decided even though Koln was a beautiful
town, the beer just wasn't good enough to warrant another day there, so we
headed off to Belgium. Or so we thought, after about an hours drive (we were
determined to drive on local roads, not highways), we were back in Koln.
There's NO WAY OUT. Finally we made it, and were on our way to the land of
1,000 dances, er, beers.

Next time - Genk

Pictures - Koln Zoo Hostel, Peter's Bar