When I think of wanderlusting I don't think of the old continent, but nevertheless, rucksack full of goodies, newly acquired husband and I made that rugged trip on Ryanair back to the homeland of Christmas markets and Therme's. You can imagine what we got in the first place: sugar hearts, Gluehwein, Feuerzangenbowle, wieners the size of dogs, lollipops the size of wieners and merry Germans. The wiener and merry German theme contined as well in the Therme.
A Therme for those of you without German lusting experiences, is a thermal bath usually as part of a public indoor pool, in this case equipped with two giant slides for the little ones and two small and steamy whirlpools for the, well, bigger (but not always) ones. The added bonus at the latter is that it is located in a so called textile free area. Textile free to me has a ring of avoided child labor, but instead it confirms the cliche of the naked German on your beach. You thus dutifully remove your swimsuit, put it on a small shelf, hope it will be their upon your return and get in the tub with some lusting men and women of all ages and sizes.
Call me a prude but as newly acquired husband and I soak up the sexual tension oozing from big man with small penis (as I was unable not to notice when it dangled it over my head upon his entry into the pool), I am just glad that my mother aptly estimates that her entry into the mix may add a bit of a conversation stopper. So she keeps strolling, towel a bit un-Germanly tight wrapped about her and disappears into the sauna. Newly acquired husband and I made a dash for the slides and so everyone's pride, honor and emotional balance is still intact.
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