In Europe’s tourist towns, the best social moments combust after a long day of work, and after the guests say good night.
With so many of us stuck at home for the foreseeable future, I believe a daily dose of travel dreaming can actually be good medicine. Here’s another one of my favorite travel memories — a reminder of what’s waiting for you in Europe at the other end of this crisis.
After hours in an Irish pub in Galway, the door is locked and the musicians play on. On the Italian Riviera, the dishes are washed, the anchovies are eaten, and the guitars come out. And in small-town German hotels, the family and the hired help stow their workplace hierarchy with their aprons and take out a special bottle of wine.
During many visits to Rothenburg, Germany’s ultimate medieval town, I’ve sat down hurriedly at the Golden Rose restaurant to update my guidebook listing, then dashed away. Tonight, I’ve decided to sit down and simply relax with the Favetta family. We gather around the Stammtisch: the table you’ll find in most German bars and restaurants reserved for family, staff, and regulars. (An invitation to the Stammtisch is a good life goal.) Except for our candlelit table, the once noisy restaurant is empty and dark.
Well into our second glass of wine, we indulge in the sport many in the tourist business enjoy: cultural puzzles. The daughter, Henni, asks me, “Why can’t Americans eat with a knife? You cut things with your fork.”
I confess I know nothing about holding silverware. And just to hit a Yankee when he’s down, she adds, “And you people love to drink plain water — we call this water the American Champagne. But you never eat liver or blood sausage. The Japanese love those.”
I ask Henni if it’s not dangerous to generalize about other cultures.
She says, “Even deaf people generalize.”
When I ask how, she explains with the help of her hands. “In international sign language, ‘Germany’ is my finger pointing up from my head,” she says, making a fist-and-finger Prussian helmet. ‘France’ is this wavy little mustache,” she continues, wiggling a finger across her upper lip. “And ‘Russia’ is the Cossack dancer.” Henni bounces on her chair and hooks her thumbs at her waist, while her index fingers do a jaunty little cancan dance.
“And what’s the sign for America?” I ask.
“The fat cat,” she says, propping up an imaginary big belly with her arms.
Her father, Rino, whose English is worse than my German, struggles to follow the animated discussion. Whenever the conversation reaches a spirited tempo, he jumps in, brings it to a screeching halt, and sends it in a completely new direction.
Pretending to add to Henni’s thoughts, he leans over to me. As if a magician sharing a secret, he holds his hand palm down in front of my face. Stretching his thumb high and out, he forms a small bay in the top of his hand. Peppering in a little snuff tobacco, he announces, “Snoof tobak.” With Henni’s help, Rino clarifies. Struggling with the word, he says, “anatomical snuffbox,” and snorts. With a quick sniff, I try it, and it works.
As noses wiggle, I ask Henni if living in a tourist fantasy-town gets old.
“I will live and die in Rothenburg,” she answers. “Teenagers here dream of leaving Rothenburg. One by one they try the big city — Munich or Nürnberg — and they come home. Summer is action time. Winter is quiet. The tourists, they come like a big once-a-year flood. We Rothenburgers sit and wait for you to float by.”
“Like barnacles,” I add cheerfully, even though I figure that word is not in Henni’s English vocabulary.
Henni looks at me like I just burped. “People who live here have magic vision,” she says. “If we want to, we can see no tourists and only local people. Rothenburg is a village. We know everyone.”
The impromptu party continues as I learn that, even in the most touristy town in Germany, you can still make a genuine, cross-cultural connection. Sitting at the Stammtisch after hours, this conversation becomes my treasured souvenir.
(This story is excerpted from my upcoming book, For the Love of Europe — collecting 100 of my favorite memories from a lifetime of European travel. It’s coming out in July, and available for pre-order. And you can also watch a video clip related to this story: Just visit Rick Steves Classroom Europe and search for Germany.)