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Leaving Wassen, we get a good indicator of the weather we can expect for most of the trip. Sankt Gotthard is called the Weathermaker for a reason – but better said in German – der Unwettermacher. We have more rain. Super.

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Regardless, it is time to head on over to the Furkapass. Famed for its appearance in Goldfinger, it’s a beat-up, often single-lane stretch that has some truly rewarding views. Armco is completely missing, the only side securements are the electric fences used to keep the sheep and cows off the road. Given a weekend to ride, I would consider riding the loop of Furka, Nufenen, and Sankt Gotthard over and over and over. Three wonderful and unique passes that have a ton to offer any moderately experience rider. Furka brings us up into the clouds again and over the tops, where we are greeted by warm sun.

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Just as Furka is visible from Grimsel, the curves of Grimsel are visible from Furka. The road to the left is the lower southwest ramp of Furka. On the way down, there is a marker for the Rhonegletscher, one of the sources of the Rhone river. We periodically see the Furkabahn, an old steam cog railway that brings cars and people through the passes.

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We follow the 19 south to Brig and turn onto the 9, the Simplonstrasse. Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express takes place on what is actually called the Simplon-Orient Express, a very real train route that brings travelers south to the sunny beaches of Italy. The nearly 20km long Simplon tunnel houses the tracks, along with a rail car service that carries cars and persons through in 20 minutes. Hmmm. Not for us. We have different tunnels to take, the long and elegant avalanche galleries that make up most of the northern ramp of Simplon. We go over the top, again to find sun and warmth. We tuck into our breakfast leftovers for lunch, and then head southward to Domodossola, Italy. Regrettably for me, this will turn into the start of a nagging gut problem that will eventually cost me one and a half riding days and quite a few euros.

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From Domodossola, we continue south on Italy’s A62 in pursuit of the Italian coastline. Italy’s Autostrada system is well-built, with hundreds of short tunnels to carry traffic easily through the mountains. Tolls are handled with tickets, similar to the usual turnpike ticket in the US. We are both a bit tired and I am puffing up like a balloon from the cheese. We stop for a bit near Praolo so that I can deflate myself. It’s warm and sunny and we are baked like cookies. From there, we head south to Alessandria and Nove Liguri. We find a hotel after some fussing – Italy is not as well-organized as the German-speakers up north are – and a couple of dead ends. The hotel Gambero d’Oro is thankfully open and willing to host two ladies on motorbikes.  Dinner is outstanding northern Italian fare. I have keyed in on milk being an issue, but not yoghurt.

The issue with leaving early is that we have a reservation at a cheap hotel in Wassen, Switzerland for Friday night. I have figured out that we can alter our route to run a loop section of it on Friday, instead of holding out until the planned later point in the trip. This is a big win for us, as we have good weather for the most part and get some of the best passes of the trip in early.

We depart Bad Bellingen on the A5 and cross into Switzerland, purchasing Vignettes at the border. A Vignette is a sticker that shows you have paid the annual toll for riding the highways in the country. For 2014, the Vignette is red and yellow, and features the well-known symbol for the Autobahn. Without it, you are subject to rather impressive fines. 33€ later and we are good to go. A quick stop for fuel and the real game can begin.

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We follow the A2 in Switzerland from Basel down to the Sustenstrasse (11) and begin our first climb.

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The Sustenpass is a mild, gently curving pass that is a perfect first Alpine pass. It’s one that you can ride to get into the swing of things. It brings you into to the moment with good views and open twisties. To reach the top, we ride up through the ceiling and out on top of the cloud cover, a really unique experience. We have sun on top to augment the lovely views. From there, we swing south on the 6 to ride over the Grimselpass. Grimsel is an old pass with a long commercial history. The kehren, or switchbacks, are stacked in groups and the Furkapass kehren are visible as you descend. The bus traffic is impressive, and we see a fashion photography crew on the descent.

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In Ulrichen, we turn off onto the Nufenenstrasse. In truth, this was my personal highlight of the passes we rode. Nufenen is challenging and strong, well-built, but demanding. I love it. The top is once again up in the clouds after we ride up over one layer of clouds to the pass itself. At the western base, we enter Airolo, where one must choose between the new Sankt Gotthard road and the old Via Tremola. A few loops of getting turned around, and we settle onto the Via Tremola, a cobblestone goat path that climbs the side of the mountains. Once again, riding into the clouds, we find nothing but dense cloud cover at the top. So dense that we are not sorry to leave it at all. A note on the Via Tremola – it’s awesome. Definitely technical and would be way more fun on my Sherpa (I mean WAAAAAAY more fun), and all you could ask for from an old historical road. I highly recommend taking it. If you take the new road to the top, you’ll find it’s not particularly curvy and offers none of the challenge that is the purpose of pass-running.

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From the Sankt Gotthard, we descend back north into Wassen and stay at the Gotthard Backpacker Hotel, a modestly priced (for Switzerland) hotel with few trimmings, but really nice showers. The barbed wire toilet seat makes me laugh. Soooo Texas…

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Tonight, I discover that my riding partner snores loudly. The snack baggie of 3M Tekk plugs looks very good to me when I find it in my tank bag.

This is a theory of mine: the problem with drivers in the US is our road signs: they have too many words on them, and our population’s declining literacy levels are making this a challenge for compliance with the posted placards.

I lived in Germany for  a while, where the Vienna Convention on Road Signs and Signals holds. Vienna describes a group of symbolic signs nearly devoid of text that control the safety aspects of roadway behaviour in the EU and other areas of the world agreeing to the convention. Notable in not agreeing is, of course, the US. I found that after a period of adjustment, the signs were easy to interpret and that I could respond almost instantly to them, because visualization was all that was required. I did not have to process them. Well, “no parking” and “no stopping” took a while to sort out, but hey, who is perfect? By the way, do not drive your Volkswagen Cabriolet off of the dock and into the river. You will likely get wet.

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A typical Vienna convention sign has a ground color, an accent color, a shape, and a symbol. For example, the speed limit sign is circular (command) with a white ground (information) with a red outer ring (prohibition) and a number in the middle (actual speed limit). A parking area sign is square (informational) with a blue ground (permission or recommendation) and a white P (parking area designation). All of the signs follow a few rules and language independent. Two faves are these, which are actually related.

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For example, consider the signage on the south side of the intersection of Coolidge Highway and Big Beaver Road in Troy, MI. The right lane must turn right, and is signed as such. Compare this to the Vienna sign, which is a simple blue circle with a white directional turning arrow.

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US RLMTR road sign

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A few of our colleagues have gotten the point, and signs like this one are starting to show up. The arrows require little to no processing to understand, and the only is completely superfluous, likely a throwback to the wordy original.

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US Pictoral directional

I could go on at length with comparisons, but I think you already get the picture (pun wholly intended).

So, why am I bothering about this? My older son is taking his introductory driving course here in MI this month. He’s learning about road signs and such, and he’s noticed the peculiarities of our wordy signage already. One is something the Germans call the “Schilderwald”, or forest of signs. It happens when a large number of signs are erected close together. Examples in the EU are numerous, and typically hilarious as the signs often conflict with each other. It is not unusual to find people taking photos, a non-trivial number of which will be used to contest traffic citations.

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In the US, we persist in using signs with words on them. In English. Imagine a Schilderwald using our signs, and how long it would take to read all of them. The pictograms are enough work! Thankfully, this mess is only for pedestrians, who have time to stop and process it.

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So, let me get up on my soapbox here and argue for conversion to the Vienna Convention. It would make life easier, better, and much more fabulous, being that everyone would have a shot at driving sanely, regardless of their literacy level. Imagine a US where everyone can interpret the signs and follow directions. Where even the most distracted texting driver has to only look up from their phablet for half a second to catch the sign, know what it means, and do what it shows. Where reading of road sign text will never more distract anyone from the road, or whatever the heck it is that they are doing on it. Paradise is what it would be.

At the same time, maybe we could finally convert to metric, too? Please? They already have the signs for that made up.

About the two signs at the top, which I playfully call the caterpillar sign and the picket fence sign. The caterpillar sign indicates an ungated railroad crossing. And, you guessed it, the picket fence indicates a gated one.

I read this blog post over on EliteDaily and thought, wow, what an opportunity for some semi-satire…. I decided to stop at the first point, though, because it’s such an incredibly good one.

9. When you try to comprehend sports Pinterest

Seriously. You’re always saying you can’t figure out what we want. Well, Pinterest. Even a cursory trolling of our Pinterest boards will tell you. Pinterest, then shop.

The Pinterest phenomenon is so cool. When I look at my pin board (don’t, it’s boring), I realize that yes, it’s not very big or very girly. But that’s ok, because anyone who wants to know about what I like will quickly discover that the fastest way to my heart is GS parts. Or whole GSs. We post what we like, simple as that. And I like BMW bikes. And VW parts. And watches with carbon fibre bits. And so on. A quick peek at my GFs’ boards shows the same thing – a very clear picture of their hearts’ desires, from hot pink hand-spun alpaca wool to kitschy dolls to AMC body panels. But it’s all there, out in the open.

How guys are missing out on this very clever method of getting to understand what women want is beyond me.

(This is my first attepmt to blog from my iPhone.)

Earlier this year, I picked up a well-used 2001 Kawasaki Super Sherpa, the oddball midsized street legal dirt bike that never was a big seller due to not really being big enough for most guys and there not being that many girl dirt riders out there. Hence, accessories are hard to come by. To remedy the complete lack of storage, I decided to make a tank bag.

Here are some pics.

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Edit – a friend asked me how easy it is to fill up the bike with the bag in place. Not hard at all. The safety strap allows me to swing the bag out of the way without losing it.

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this bike

I previously wrote about moving over from my factory lowered BMW F650GS to a standard CBR250R, and how it inspired me to re-evaluate my dependence on getting my feet down at stops.

Recently, I rented a stock NC700X for a long weekend in Germany, and it seemed so natural to ride with my feet kind of, sort of down, but not like on the F, which, honestly, I tower over. A good inch or so between me and the seat when standing. Pushing the NC up and over with my left leg and finding the ground with my right foot eventually seemed like what you do. In fact, when I hopped on the F after coming home and my right foot hit the ground while the bike was still on the sidestand, the light bulb really started to glow. When my foot dragged on the ground as I was coming to a stop, there was no longer any question. My bike is too damn low.

What I’m finally figuring out is that it is actually harder to balance a bike at a stop when your knees are bent. The knee bend introduces a degree of variance, some instability, basically extra flexion, into the system. The NC was delightful at stops, partly because the center of gravity is ridiculously low, but also because my legs are straight, and that extra flexion is not there. There is a natural stiffness. I did have to plan some stops, looking to make sure I did not ride up on top of a ridge, rather instead down in the groove so that my full foot would be placed solidly on the the ridge, but even that lost its appeal after a while. I finally came to peace with the idea that taller is actually better for an experienced rider.

I place the experienced rider caveat there, because as a novice, I needed the mental and emotional security of both feet solidly planted on the ground. This is not a bad thing in and of itself – there is no shame in wanting to be comfortable as you grow into riding. The important thing for me is that I have been able to grow out of it as I’ve added experience.

I’ve begun the process of assembling the parts necessary to convert my F from low to normal. I may never make it to Dakar heights, but getting to normal is a big and welcome step. As I master normal, I will open the door to a new world of bike choices. This is cool.

Ah, well, it was good. Actually, it was great. I mentioned the differences between the NC and my F, and one of the biggest ones didn’t hit home until I did. My F is too damn low. More on that in another post!

I took the bike on a planned route in the area of Germany known as Lipper Land. My riding partner from my Alps trip joined me – we enjoy riding together alot. It is not so easy to find other ladies to ride with, so while we are not perfectly matched, we suck it up and ride on! We left from the dealership and headed to her place to group up and load the bikes. Once again, I have to remind: Never take your gear without taking a tank bag. Just take it. Preferably a strap one, as bikes like the NC have no metal up top. I forwent a pair of sneakers, but did manage plenty of socks and underwear.  We rode out to find our little place to stay, the Hotel-Café Waldruh, Rüheweg 8, Holzhausen.

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In Lipper Land, we started the day with a gluten-free birthday cake from my GF- how cool is that. The ride started near the Externsteine, a rock formation that is truly impressive. From there, we headed to the Hermanndenkmal and then off to an artillery range. This was truly neat, although we were too nervous to stop for photos there. The varied terrain was outstanding and the signage was quite threatening.

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From there, we rode north and up and around several cities about 30km north of Detmold. The winding roads were fun and we enjoyed quite a bit of forest riding. This was more than welcome as temps were over 30°C both days. We came around the eastern side of Lipper Land and found the Köterberger Biker Treffpunkt, one of hundreds of little stops that welcome riders with a hot meal and clean bathrooms, along with plenty of parking and a nice view (and this sweeeeet Guzzi!). Then, it was back to our little hotel.

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The route home took us on familiar roads through Westphalen. We stopped for lunch, then some sweets later, then for a break in the shade, then at another Bikertreff, the …..

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Getting the NC in motion was so easy and riding was so pleasant that I stopped everywhere to take pictures. It started with the Global Multi-Grab from ADVrider.com – a game where riders take photos of their bikes with a list of objects or locations. I started with a list of farm-y stuff, and ended with a holiday list, which I grabbed in short order.

First, a haybale man.

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Then, irrigation in progress and a tent.

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Some wildflowers…

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A windmill.

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A community picnic.

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On monday afternoon, I rode down to Köln to visit a friend, and then rolled back into my hotel about 15 minutes before all hell broke loose in Düsseldorf. The worst storms in ten years blew in and fortunately left the bike untouched. As I looked out the window, the midwesterner in me said “wow, that looks like tornado weather”. And so it was – the transit system was shut down for almost three days, with very few trains running at all due to the number of trees and wires down. Thank goodness for lane splitting and filtering!

I returned the NC700X to the dealer with a bit less rubber and a lot more smiles. For a weekend rental (or even for longer, seat issues aside), I’d go for it again. The turn-in process consisted of a quick walkaround by the gentleman I did the original paperwork with and a quick “thank you, we are done here”. What about the extra 200kms? “Have a good day. Email me if you want to do this again. I will arrange everything for you.”

What a birthday, hmmm?

Having learned to ride in Germany, home of so many twisty roads and so friendly to bikes, I find nothing beats a weekend over there with a bike. Work travel over a German holiday weekend (that coincided with my birthday) afforded me the opportunity to have a long weekend, so naturally, I needed a bike.

One thing about Europe – bike rentals are easy to come by. Not always cheap, but practically every dealer and even some of the car rental shops (Sixt) will gladly rent you a bike if you can show that you’ve had your license more more than a couple of years. I emailed around prior to arrival looking for a G650GS, but no one rents those, and a lowerred or low-seated F700GS also was not materializing. So I called up my old Honda dealer and asked what they had. I was surprised to be talking to the same guy I bought my CBR from! He was surprised, too, and accidentally gave me a pretty ridiculous price on an NC700X for three days, with 900kms included. Extra kms would cost me 0.25€ each, no major disaster. As Germany is similar to the US in that for every hardcore rider, there are probably at least five bikes that see 500kms per year tops, the limit is not that low.

I went and checked out the bike, mostly to make sure it was not ridiculously tall like the F twins. Or, at least, tall for me. My F single is low from the factory, and that has its pluses and minuses. It’s made me profoundly lazy, for one thing. The CBR was a bit taller, but eventually the shock wore out a bit and my feet were right back down on the ground. Enter the Super Sherpa, which is supposed to cure me of this high anxiety, but it’s still in pieces in the garage. There was that bruising hour with the XT225 in the end that my right calf is still telling me about… So now I want to ride, and my potential rental is not quite a tippy-toe bike, but it is balls-of-the-feet or slide-over-a-bit-to-the-side high. Hmmmm…

I decided to go for it.

I got a Darkness Black NC700X that was clearly a trade-in. It had a chopped off exhaust and carbon fibre vinyl accents. 13076kms on the odometer. Very sticky tyres, stickier than I would normally choose, but hey, it’s a rental. Beggars can’t be choosers. Honda’s Rent-A-Bike program (yes, it’s actually named that) allows dealers to take bikes out of inventory and tag them for use as rentals. The program has a price for everything from a 50cc scooter all the way up to the Goldwing and includes all of the street-legal bikes and a few dirt bikes. You need only find a dealer with the bike you want available for rental.

The NC700X is, in my opinion, Honda’s take on the old BMW Scarver. A weird form factor with the tank under the seat and a ‘frunk’ – a locking storage bin where the tank would normally be. Like the Scarver, the battery is up top, but the weight is all down low. Honda laid the engine almost completely on its side, bringing the center of gravity of the bike to unheard-of lows. Why is that important? It makes the bike effortless to balance, which frankly makes calling it a taller bike a complete and total farce. It balances like a 300 pounder. You feel the real weight of the bike when you need to push it around, but otherwise, you’d never know it was there.

The frunk is far larger than I expected and packs quite a lot of junk. Had I had the brains to bring my tank bag with, I could have easily gone out for three or four days between the two containers. Two and a half was pushing it with minimal packing. However, for everyday grocery getting and whatnot, it’s probably not that bad. I easily fit two tall 1l water bottles in along with my GF bread and clothes. Actually, if I didn’t have so much auxiliary crap, I probably could have made a few more days worth of clothes fit.

It took me a good 350kms on the bike to get my posture to a stable and comfortable place. The seat sucks. Coming from my Farklelounger BMW, a Honda is a rude awaking for one’s butt. And thighs. I don’t know if it possible to have less butt-friendly seats than the stock Honda ones. I did eventually figure out how to perch on it to minimise pain and maximise whole-body comfort. The NC is billed as a tourer, a style of bike I have no experience with. I found that rather than the usual dual-sport sitting up I do, a more standard position gave me the ergos to ride pain-free and well.

Riding was interesting. I felt the weight of the bike as I pushed it through tighter curves. Through sweepers, it was effortless. Slow speed manoeuvers were tentative, but I attribute that more to being aware of my unsure footing and really not wanting to drop it.

I’ll have more on this experience in a few days, after I return the bike and decompress. Ride report and pics, too, as I was able to hook up with with my riding partner from the Alps trip to ride all over LipperLand. We hit some of our favorite roads and biker stops on the way home, too.

It doesn’t sound like a “salad” at all. Greens, fried potatoes, and fried eggs. Most people I talk to tell me that it completely defeats the purpose of eating a salad.

No, not at all. A deftige Bauernsalat – farmer salad – is one of the Rhein region’s true culinary delights. It starts with some field greens, placed on one half of a plate. Dress them, then add vegetables of your choosing. Top with cubes of fresh cheese, a wonderful feta-like preparation. On the other side, bring on the Bratkartoffeln, those strange yellow potatoes that have been boiled and fried with plenty of salt and spices. Top those off with two Spiegeleier – sunny-side up eggs. It goes from just salad to meal in no time at all. And it’s yummy.

It does not defeat the purpose of salad at all. It makes just a salad into a real dinner.

“STOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!” I yelled. We were in our temporary apartment in Germany, I was in the shower, and someone had decided to wash dishes. Oh. My. God. My skin was suddenly peeling off thanks to alternate bursts of freezing cold and boiling hot water.

The German conciousness includes the perjorative term “Warmduscher” – literally a person who likes hot showers, or moreso, a person who eschews cold ones. Basically, a person who likes comfort. After all, who could possibly want to be comfortable? That would be inefficient and self-centered, right? I don’t mind being uncomfortable, sleeping outdoors is fun, and come on, I ride motorcycles until the roads ice up. The elements are not foreign to me. But that abrupt switch from nicely hot water to cold (or worse, even hotter) in the shower? How about NO.

The demand for energy efficiency, combined with a lack of caring about whether a shower is a nice place to be or not led to the demise of the (apparently) horribly inefficient hot water tank in Germany. Enter the Durchlauferhitzer – an extremely efficient version  of the basic in-line on-demand water heater. It is a horrible little 5 to 20l electronic confection that claims to deliver hot water exactly where and when you need it. It does, with one caveat – it’s pressure drop actuated – so FSM help you if there is more than one fixture connected to it. Unlike on-demand units in the US that regulate the outlet water temperature and pressure to maintain some semblance of control at the faucet, the German variety of the unit is either on, or, off. And because it’s pressure drop actuated, getting any control at the mixing valve is a delicate ballet of pressure balancing. Wait. They don’t have pressure balancing mixer valves over here, either.

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We moved into the house eventually, and my hopes for Fernwärme (city steam) were dashed. Three of the miserable little devices were installed instead of a single hot water tank or simple valve in the basement. The device in the kitchen was the most damned of all of them – a 5l unit that delivered what amounted to either cold water or steam. In steam mode, one had about five minutes of dish washing and rinsing time before the it was back to cold water. Fifteen minutes later, the steam was back on. No amount of twiddling with the dial produced any temperature other than scalding or cold. So much for adjustability. It looked adjustable. I guess that was good enough.

The unit on the upper floor was equally useless. It had two settings, both of which were at the mercy of the incoming water temperature. Eventually, we gave up on it and allowed the boys to shower on the first floor, where the installed 20l unit had not only a temperature dial to set, but a selector to choose how many of the three heating elements one wished to use! We monitored the seasons and the weather in the nearby mountains in an attempt to predict how to adjust the dials to achieve that elusive hot-but-not-scalding water. This unit was so sensitive to pressure drop changes that we did not do anything with household water when a shower was underway. Eventually, we found it best to use it as the thermal control for the shower and just run the shower valve straight hot, avoiding most pressure drop issues.

One thing we found with each of the horrible little misery machines was that they leak water out of the outlet side when heating. Not a problem when you are running water, but when not, there is a constant drip. Because the water is hard as a rock, you get constant calcium buildup. I’d post a picture, but honestly, who wants to see that? The time spent soaking various parts of faucets and other water-use devices in vinegar and other forms of chemistry became measurable as time in the house dragged on. The chiseling of hard water deposits out of the toilets was a special task reserved for the boys.

The one place that we did not have to worry about calcium buildup was the dishwasher. German dishwashers include a built-in water softener. You pull out the racks and add salt to a container in the base of the tub. I was shocked by this. I refused to believe it was required. Then, I had to clean the filters. OK, where’s that salt? Of course, the lack of a soft food disposer didn’t make that job any easier. Over here, you do have to wash the stupid dishes before you put them in. Mind-boggling. I did not expect the stupid dishwasher to be a Warmduscher. I expected it to wash my dishes without needing help.

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Ironically, one cannot turn off the heated dry cycle on most German dishwashers. Who was that carrying on about energy savings?

I won’t miss the water in Germany with all of its issues at all. I will go home to my 50 gallon gas-fired hot water tank full of nice, naturally soft Great Lakes water. I will stuff my dishwasher with dirty plates, turn it on, and use the time I’ve saved by not washing them first to take a long and just-perfectly-hot shower without worrying about temperature fluctuations. I will be a Warmduscher in the literal sense. And it will be glorious.