The travel journal Roads & Kingdoms has a new series called 5 o’clock somewhere, an inspired set of drinking tales from around the world. They asked for my take on Berlin and published the grumbling response of a transplanted Californian.
The beer mountain towered before me, twinkling under the fluorescent lights of a late-night corner store. Behind dozens of crates stacked to eye level, a refrigerated wall showcased bottles of every description, resplendent in kaleidoscopic labels with unpronounceable names.
I’d arrived in Berlin for the first time with a clear mandate. I would leave no beer untasted in my mission to sample every variety of Germany’s most prized product.
Now I stood mouth agape. How could I ever try them all? My mind balked at the possibility.