If I see one more person post a photo of the Brandenburg Gate with the caption “Living my best life,” I might actually delete the internet. Berlin isn’t a city anymore; it’s a giant set for people who want to look like they enjoy techno more than they actually do. I’ve spent a cumulative four months in Germany over the last five years, mostly because my job keeps sending me to Frankfurt, and I’ve realized that the “best places to visit Germany” lists are usually written by people who spent three days in a Marriott and called it a day.
Stop pretending Berlin is the “coolest” city in Europe
I used to think Berlin was the pinnacle of human civilization. I was completely wrong. Back in 2016, I thought wearing all black and standing in line for Berghain was a personality trait. It’s not. It’s just cold. Berlin is sprawling, the U-Bahn smells like a basement that’s been flooded for a decade, and everyone is trying way too hard to be unimpressed by everything.
What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. Berlin is great if you want to see history that’s been polished for tourists or if you want to pay €15 for a cocktail in a room that looks like a squat. But if you actually want to feel like you’re in Germany? Go to Leipzig. It’s what Berlin used to be before the venture capitalists arrived. It’s smaller, cheaper, and the people actually look you in the eye when they tell you your German is terrible.
Anyway, I once spent three hours trying to find a “secret” bar in Neukölln only to realize I was standing in the lobby of a very confused dry cleaner. But I digress.
The Black Forest is mostly just a lot of trees
Don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty. But people talk about it like it’s a mystical realm. It’s a forest. It’s a big forest with cuckoo clocks. If you’ve seen one pine tree, you’ve seen the next four thousand. Go for a day, eat the cake (which is actually worth the hype), and then leave. Don’t spend a week there unless you really, really like hiking in the damp.
Total waste of time. Don’t bother.
Where I actually spent my money (The 2022 Data)
I tracked my spending and movement during a three-week stint last summer. I’m a bit obsessive about spreadsheets when I’m bored on trains. I tested 4 different regions over 21 days and tracked everything from beer prices to how many times I was yelled at for walking in the bike lane.
- Quedlinburg: €42/day average. 1,200+ timber-framed houses. Zero pretension.
- Hamburg: €85/day average. I walked 22.4km in two days and ended up with 14 blisters.
- Munich: €110/day average. Absolute robbery, but the beer gardens are a drug.
- Dresden: €55/day average. Architecture looks like someone tried to reconstruct a dream using only burnt toast.
If you want the “Disney” experience without the Disney crowds, Quedlinburg is the move. It’s in the Harz mountains. It looks like the setting of a fairytale where everyone dies at the end. It’s stunning, weirdly quiet, and the cobblestones will absolutely destroy your ankles if you wear anything thinner than a hiking boot. I wore Vans there in 2021 and I think my arches are still vibrating.
My 2017 Munich disaster
I have to tell you about the time I ruined my own life in Munich. It was October 14, 2017. I wasn’t even there for Oktoberfest—I was there for a boring tech conference. I decided to go to the Hofbräuhaus because I’m a cliché. I sat down, drank one Liter of beer (which is basically a bucket), and realized I had lost my passport. I spent four hours retracing my steps in the rain, crying outside a U-Bahn station, only to find it in the pocket of the jacket I was literally wearing. The shame was worse than the hangover. Munich is beautiful, but it remembers your failures.
Pro tip: If you go to Munich, avoid the Marienplatz at noon. It’s just thousands of people staring at a clock that does a very mediocre dance. It’s the most underwhelming thing in Western Europe.
The one place I refuse to go back to
I know people will disagree with this, but I hate Cologne. I refuse to recommend it. I don’t care about the cathedral. Yes, it’s big. Yes, it’s Gothic. But the rest of the city is a concrete nightmare that makes me feel like I’m trapped in a 1970s office park. The city layout makes me angry for no reason. I’ve been three times for work and every time I end up getting lost in a series of identical grey streets that smell like damp cigarettes. I actively tell my friends to skip it. Life is too short for ugly cities just because they have one big church.
The Neuschwanstein queue felt like being squeezed through a very expensive, very slow toothpaste tube. That’s another one. Just look at a picture of the castle online. It’s better that way. The actual experience involves a 45-minute bus ride with 80 people who haven’t discovered deodorant yet, all to see a castle that was never even finished. Total lie.
I guess what I’m saying is that Germany is best when you aren’t looking for the “sights.” It’s best when you’re sitting in a random Kneipe in a city you can’t pronounce, eating a bratwurst that costs €3, watching old men argue about football. I still haven’t figured out why I keep going back to Frankfurt, though. Maybe I just like the punishment.
Go to Monschau instead. It’s tiny, it’s in a valley, and nobody there cares about your Instagram. Worth every penny.
