Kulmbach to Trebgast

"These mistakes can happen." says an old boy sympathetically at breakfast.  "Yeah, to England. Don't seem to happen to Germany ever." I don't actually say that. He was trying to be nice.

Mike is still whingeing about the beer. Even though we aren't drinking any with breakfast. It wasn't that bad. Just not great. I use the contrast word, but he isn't listening.

We order a taxi to take us to Kulmbach station. The taxi we would have taken in the opposite direction  yesterday. If we'd taken the sensible option.

"That looks like a brewery, Mike."

"It's where they make the malt." Our taxi driver speaks surprisingly good English. If he'd known the word maltings, I would have been really impressed. "That''s the brewery over there." He points at one of the least inspiring collections of industrial buildings I've ever seen. Like an ICBM site. No. That's being too nice.

I'd imagined Kulmbach as a quaint town like Bamberg ot Forchheim. Could be, but it doesn't look like it from the area around the station. More like someone has dropped a neutron bomb. But it is Sunday. The castle stuck up on the hill looks nice. I take a couple of snaps.

"Oh look, there's Stadschänke, Mike. I've got it in my guide. See"  It really is in my guide. And I really do show Mike.




"It's a Mönchshof pub. Why bother?"

Missing a bit of the point there. We're on a drinking holiday.

The waitress is very friendly. And all dirndled up. Did I mention that I'd never seen a woman who looked unattractive in a dirndl? I'm sure I must have. I've mentioned to Mike at least 20 times already this trip.


Mönchshof Kloster Schwarzbier - A bit roasty. The best Kulmbacher  beer I've had so far. Praise indeed.

We're off to Trebgast soon. I hope the train isn't full of day-trippers. Or divide confusingly. And that we'll have a lunch that meets Mike's standards. I'm not that fussy myself. Not that fussy.