And After All, You’re My Westerwald

After paying the much too expensive bill and receiving, once again, Frau Mueller’s vice grip handshake, we fled the hotel to the south. The sky was black, a mix of snow and heavy rain was falling. Hours later as we returned to the wine country of southern Germany under a golden sunset, I thought of our brief incarceration. “Those poor women … ” I said out loud, to no one in particular.

Photo Courtesy of Nerd’s Eye View