First Cup of German Joe

That’s right; I traveled 4700 miles to have Starbucks.

In my defense, it was 4am Chicago time and we hadn’t slept all night; the eight hour, overnight flight to Frankfurt was bumpy, and our seats reclined two inches (Renate’s) or not at all (mine). I just needed caffeine, even if it cost me roughly five dollars.

We are now safely bivouacked in Baumholder Ruschberg (oops), a picturesque town surrounded by green, rolling hills. The crisp, clean air smells like fireplaces. Someone should bottle it and sell it stateside, I think they’d make a killing.

More from Germany as it unfolds. Perhaps tonight we’ll sample the local Burger King.