The couple of hundred metres from out hotel to the nearest station leads along the Schwebebahn. Giving great views of these flying trams.
We get Kurzstrecke tickets. A bargain at 1.70.
It's a bit disconcerting that there's a sheer drop at the end of the platform. I suppose you get used to it.
Inside it really does look like a modern tram. Except the ride is smoother. And the view better.
Confused, I get us off two stops too early. No problem, there's another one along soon.
Wuppertal has two town centres. The Brahaus is in the more easterly one. Barmen. I'm going to make a wild guess and say this used to be a separate town. The former town hall is a bit of a guveaway. A building fronted by a very bold looking statue of Bismarck.
Not that we pause to look. We're on our way to a brewery. Nothing will distract us from that.
"Look, there's a Penny. They're even cheaper than Lidl."
The beer selection is surprisingly good.Unfiltered Becks, Gaffel Wiessn, Köstritzr Kellerbier and Turmbräu Pilsener. The last 39 cents for a half litre plastic bottle. Plus 25 cents deposit. Mikey gets some cheese. You can never have too much cheese. And we are in a car.
Not having brought one, I have to buy a fabric bag. It costs almost as much as the beer.
Seated in the beer garden, we run our eyes over the menu. Beer first.No surprise in either choice: Weissbier for Mukey, Dinkles for me. It's OK, my Dunkles. I've had far worse in German brewpubs.
"Do you fancy a shot?" Mikey asks.
"We are on holiday. Make that a double."
"My schnitzel yesterday was much better. And the bratkartoffeln are too salty."
No complaints about my schweinehaxe. Other than its enormous size. How the fuck am I going to eat all that meat.?
On my way to the bog, I notice they've a model Schwebebahn.
I can't finish all the meat, Luckily, they're happy to pack op the remainder for me. It would be a shame to waste such porky goodness.
We're not in lingering mode. We pay and leave. But Mikey fancies dessert again. We sit outside some sort of ice cream place. Mikey orders a pancake with fruit and other shit. Beer for me. An Alt, large.
"Do you fancy a shot?" Mikey inquires.
"When don't I? I haven't ever refused, have I?"
Bismarck glares over us. While a multicultural bunch of kids clamber around on the multilayered plinth. There's a metaphor in there somewhere.
Not totally happy with his plate of sugar, Mikey suggest we pay up and leave. Which we do. Heady with the anticipation of another Schwebebahn ride back.
It's as captivating as the first. Swaying elegantly around the tight corners.
All too soon it's over and we traipse back yo our hotel. To offload our shopping and prepare for the evening.
"See you in your room for beers in 15 minutes?" Mikey states, rather than asks.
"OK."
Sure enough there's a knock on my door and Mikey arrives with the gift of beer. More of the special offer Weissbier.
Mikey refuses my offer of rum. "It tastes like diesel. No, worse."
I'm getting accustomed to the taste. And the burning all down the throat and into the stomach. It'll definitely keep the chill out.
Once suitably warmed up, we head into town. Not 100% sure where. First we check out Calvin 7. It's mobbed my fans of the local football team. No chance of finding a seat there. Where next?
"What about the Middle Eastern place which seemed to be on fire yesterday?" We were told they'd stopped serving on account of the smoke billowing out of the kitchen.
No luck. All the outdoor tables are occupied. We wander around a little more.
Just around the corner, there's a little pub. Im Kipchen. Quite a few football fans, but also quite a bot of space right at the back.
Mikey goes in search of beer. Weissbier and Alt, as usual.
When he gets back, he asks: "Do you fancy a shot?"
"No. I'm stopping all of that. It's unhealthy."
"What? You were knocking back the rum merrily enough this morning."
"Just kidding. Of course I want a shot. Several, in fact."
"You had me worried there for a minute."
A young couple sits at the next table. After a while the woman says: "It's nice to hear English being spoken Wuppertal. What are you doing here?"
It's hard to explain why. Because the hotel was cheap and offered free parking? For an orgy of beer, pork and shots? To ride the Schwebebahn? I opt for the last. It makes me sound the least like a weirdo.
We have a few more rounds. Then get the bill. 33 euros. The robbing bastards.
On the walk home, spotting a kiosk, I can't resist going in. To pick up some impulse schnapps.
"What is that?" Mikey asks.
"Not sure, label is a bit vague. 38% ABV, that's all I need to know."
Wuppertaler Brauhaus
Kleine Flurstraße 5,
42275 Wuppertal.
https://wuppertaler-brauhaus.de/
TROJA Café & Restaurant
Kipdorf 11,
42103 Wuppertal.
https://troja-wuppertal.com/
Im Kipchen
Kipdorf 7,
42103 Wuppertal.
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3 comments:
I went to Wuppertal a few years ago and visited the industrial museum next to the house where Friedrich Engels grew up. As the name suggests, it's a linear city along the valley of the River Wupper, the only one in Germany I think.
What's the meaning of the marks on the coaster? I know it has something to do with the bill, but under the notation I'm used to that would mean 60 of something, and I assume you didn't have 60 beers.
Anonymous,
I'm not sure. I'm used to seeing this in Cologne or Dusseldorf in place that only sell one beer. They use just a simple pencil line to indicate one beer.
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