Weather’s been mighty…mercurial lately. Hot to cold to fierce winds, with rain and hail and then back to hot again as soon as the sun peeks for a few minutes.
But some of it’s been rather nice, too.
Today, for the first time in a long time, we strolled over to the old digs for a lunch at one of our old haunts. I was wondering how the bridge was coming along. Answer: same as it ever was. I couldn’t detect a millimeter of progress. Oh well; at least the weather was pleasant.
Every year in September since we’ve lived here, just when you’re thinking all the Feste must be over and done with — at least until its time to haul out the Glühwein stands again — the main drag on our island closes down to vehicular traffic. Local restaurants and out-of-towners alike roll in their trailers, along with vintners from far and wide. The whole street becomes an upscale pub crawl.
It’s a convenient way to expose your inner œnophile to a variety of wines from all over if you live around here. No DD necessary, or hunting for a parking spot, and a quiet, clean place to pee is always just a few meters away back in our apartment.
You can spend an awful lot of time in line waiting for your wood-fired Flammkuchen to come out of the oven. At least, you thought you were in line. Until you noticed that native person outflanking you and plunking down her four Euros while you were unconsciously respecting everyone’s personal space bubbles.
The live music from the stage at the top of the street is usually terrible!
We look forward to it every year, and are happy when it’s over on Sunday night, too.