To all the Bomber fans who have loved and lost...

I would like to start with a moment of silence and a big stringy lugey directed at all of the riders fans.

Now, on to happier things:

We are presently in Rothenburg ob de Tauber, where it was snowing beautifully on one of the first mild winter days. We are actually just about to leave, on to Berlin.

Some of you may not know about Rothenburg, so i will tell you a little bit about it. First, a bit of history:

Rothenburg was a quiet little city, quite rich, until the 30 years war, back in the 1600s. Now, the 30 years war was labelled as a religious war, between protestants and catholics, but as with most wars, it was really about money.

One day, after defending the city successfully for quite some time, some idiot walked into the powder storage room with a lit torch. Well we all know what that does, and a portion of the wall around the city was destroyed. The invading army ran in, and the townspeople quickly came up with a plan. They were and still are quite well known for their winemaking, so they filled up a draught of just under 1 gallon. The enemy general was a cheap drunk (although i suppose a gallon of wine is quite a bit, even for a German) and once inebriated, proposed a bet. If there was anyone in the city who could drink the whole thing in one go, the city would be spared. The old town mayor stepped up to the challange. As legend has it, he drank the whole thing, saved the town, passed out for three days, then lived to the ripe old age of 80 (nearly twice the average life expectancy back then.)

Sadly, it was not the only time the city was attacked, and they ended up paying off different armies until they were flat broke. It seemed bad at the time, but because they were so poor, they couldnt afford to build any modern houses, and that is the reason we visit the city today.

Anywho, we stayed at a beautiful pension (a tricky word that doesnt mean an old folks home, but rather the home of an old person that has been converted into a hotel), that served an amazing breakfast. I know Lindsey will tell you all about it, so i will instead tell you of the severely old lady that ran the place.

She was the stereotypical grandmother, hunched back, white hair in a bun, little glasses perched on her nose, and friendly as can be. Our room was on about the hundredth floor of this grand old house, and she must have lived on the 99th, because when we rang the doorbell on the first night, we waited about 2.5 hours before she got to the door. Why did we wait so long?, you might ask, well ill tell you. Sean and Joel both caught a glimpse of the buxom granddaughter through one of the lit windows, and refused to find another place. It ended up being quite nice, (they never did meet the granddaughter, but we did see a number of chastity belts featured in the criminal museum, and im guessing they wouldnt have had much luck with her anyway) and we are sorry to see it go.

Well, i will hopefully write again from Berlin,
Auf Weidersehen