I make a lousy tourist. For one thing I’d prefer to talk to the countrymen of the place I’m visiting than my fellow tourists with cameras strapped around their necks. My dad and his wife are visiting, and I’m finding I’m a much better tour guide, but not by much. I don’t know some of the relevant data associated with my country of residence. I can offer my prejudices (all Germans drink beer) and my affinities (they are super direct so you always know where you stand). But for the most part, I’m not on the up and up when it comes to tourist-y things.

Today we sat in two outdoor dining places – the first was an Italian café in which we had a leisurely (read: waitstaff woefully overwhelmed) breakfast. Then, a few hours later we went to a classic Bavarian beer garden. There was one waiter serving two hundred patrons. It took three hours to have lunch and dessert. I found I was fine with it, but I noticed the power of slow wasn’t everyone’s taste. I personally had nowhere to go, but my son was hungry so when he was the last to be served, I noticed the power of slow doesn’t fly with everyone, especially when you’re famished.

While I thought we might jet off to a castle, we decided the rest of the day should be a slow paced, sun-drenched afternoon.

Simply lovely and all-too-seldom!