One Hundred Reasons for Germany

Microbial rhodopsins, planetary dynamics, laser filaments and ion channels are just some of the things being explored at the Max Planck Institute. Germany's top research organization, founded in Göttingen in 1948, is known for churning out Nobel Prize winners. Its focuses include medical biology, physics and chemistry, but also the social sciences. Max Planck (1858-1947), the institute's namesake, was an important physicist who is considered to be the founder of quantum theory. His words -- "Insight must precede application" -- are part of the organization's mission statement.

Nothing at all like the small crunchy snacks usually associated with the word "pretzel" across the Atlantic, the German pretzel or Brezel is a much more substantial, doughy and altogether delightful affair. Perfect as a mid-morning snack or as an accompaniment to the typical German supper of cold cuts, Brezel are a staple item at any bakery worth its salt. And speaking of salt, the large crystals clinging to the lower half of a Brezel are paramount to its popularity. Too few, and the Brezel will be bland. Too many, and you'll be left gasping for water. The key is to buy a Brezel with a generous sprinkling of salt, and then brush off the excess until you've found the ideal balance. But you haven't really eaten Brezel until you've had one in southern Germany, where bakery staff will gladly slice through the fat bottom half, and fill it with massive amounts of creamy butter. Enjoy, just don't tell your doctor.

Even though it is probably the world's most famous Christmas carol, Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht -- otherwise known as Silent Night, Holy Night -- people did not discover until 1995 who actually wrote the lyrics for the song. The text was apparently written as a poem in 1816 by the priest Joseph Mohr in the small town of Oberndorf near Salzburg, Austria. Its twin sister-town across the bridge is Laufen in Bavaria. The town was split in two in 1816 after the Napoleonic Wars. The school master Franz Gruber wrote the music for the carol, which premiered in St. Nikolaus Church on December 24, 1818. The song has been translated into 300 languages and dialects.

The Museum Island, which genuinely is an island, is one of those places that almost makes you feel like you're not in Berlin, but in Paris or Budapest. There's no denying that it's beautiful. In the summer, the fountain in front of the Altes Museum (Old Museum) draws Frisbee players, Berliners out for a stroll and museum-goers anxious to rest their tired feet. The arcade on two sides of the Alte Nationalgalerie (Old National Gallery) invites passersby to stop for a drink in the shade and watch the barges and tourist boats plying the Spree River. <br><br> Besides that, it's inspirational. The island's five museums -- Altes Museum, Alte Nationalgalerie, Bodemuseum, Neues Museum and Pergamon Museum -- house some of the world's most impressive cultural and artistic treasures, from the bust of Queen Nefertiti in the Pergamon Museum to Romantic artist Caspar David Friedrich's path-breaking painting "The Watzmann" in the Alte Nationalgalerie. Deemed a World Cultural Heritage Site by UNESCO, the Museum Island is one of Germany's -- not just Berlin's -- highlights.

Now, we realize that the beginning of summer is probably not the best time to praise Germany's delicious winter delicacies, but readers in the southern hemisphere might be able to appreciate today's reason nonetheless. We're talking about the "Big Three" among Germany's Christmas goodies: the Christstollen from Dresden, gingerbread from Nuremberg and the Printe from Aachen. All three have been around for centuries. The stollen, a traditional German Christmas bread, actually started out as a rather dull mixture made out of flour, water and yeast. Tons of butter, spices, raisins and sugared bits of fruit came later, making the "bread" more like a cake and a deliciously sinful thing to eat. The gingerbread, of course, has been copied around the world, but Nuremberg nonetheless lays claim to calling itself the home of Lebkuchen, as the stuff is called in German. Printen, which can be seen in today's photo, might taste like stale gingerbread to the ignorant. But once you develop the right kind of eating technique, you're bound to become a Printen connoisseur in no time. Even in summer. Believe us.

Their origin is highly disputed. But unlike that other eternal question 'what came first: the chicken or the egg?' the origin of garden gnomes is -- for Germans, at least -- a matter of national pride. For a long time, it was believed that the little guys in red hats originated from the German state of Thuringia. When diligent gnome researchers, however, connected a garden gnome ad from an 1886 issue of a German illustrated newspaper to a town that is now part of Poland, the foundations of German gnomology were shaken to the core. Nonetheless, garden gnomes remain extremely popular all over the once divided country: some 24 million of them are scattered throughout Germany's gardens. At the First International Garden Gnome Convention, in Chemnitz in 2002, activists and gnome-lovers passionately debated the burning question of whether or not there should be female garden gnomes, and the pro-lobby actually managed to get legal status for so-called gnomettes. The convention also gave legal backing to garden gnomes to ensure that they aren't left at their posts after 5 p.m. or exposed to the elements during the night.

Did you dream as a young child about beautiful maidens saved by valiant princes? Did your mother threaten you with evil witches or big bad wolves for uneaten veggies? If so, you are among the millions around the world that made friends with the likes of Cinderella, Snow White and Tom Thumb, all of whom originated in Germany. Most of the dozens of famous fairy tales were written by the Brothers Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm, in the early 1800s who collected and polished up old Germanic folktales. The original tales were far from happy ending-laden fantasies. Instead, they mirrored life as it was at the times, cruel, capricious and full of color. The Grimms and later editors 'cleaned up' the stories over time as they began appealing to children, making them less harsh and more moralistic. But in what ever form, Rapunzel and Hansel and Gretel and other characters became beloved over the centuries, in 150 languages and by all ages. And they have helped lure fans to German towns like Hamelin, to follow in the footsteps of the Pied Piper or Sababurg where Sleeping Beauty woke up.

Considering the amount of meat and salty products that make up the traditional German kitchen, it should come as no surprise that Germans require an effective thirst quencher. And if you're going to have a liquid to accompany dishes such as schnitzel, sauerbraten and bratwurst then you might as well go the whole hog and make it extremely tasty…and alcoholic. In fact, forget about the food and just bring on the beer. <br><br> Germany is synonymous with everything to do with beer; be it making it, drinking it or exporting it. According to the German Brewer’s Association, Germany produces around 114,000,000 hectoliters of beer a year, of which around 108,000,000 hectoliters are consumed in the country. Germans consume, on average, around 130 liters each every year which, considering that the strength of German beer ranges from 0.5 percent to 10 percent, makes one wonder how they ever got a reputation for punctuality and efficiency. <br><br> Germans are proud of their beer and rightly so. It is extremely popular beyond the country's borders. The Italians, Americans and British are particular fans of the German throat charmer. However, pride comes before a fall and Germany has been surpassed in recent years by the likes of beer upstarts such as Belgium, the Czech Republic and Mexico which are the only countries with which Germany has a trade deficit in beer. <br><br> Despite competition abroad, the Germans seem dedicated to keeping up sales of their own brew at home. Beer brewed in Germany far outstrips those imported in terms of sales, showing that the Germans are fiercely patriotic boozers. <br><br> Whatever your tipple -- be it Pils, Weizen, Alt or Kölsch -- there are few beer connoisseurs out there in the bars of the world who will tolerate a bad word being said about German beer. So raise a glass, offer a toast and drink deeply from a glass of German tradition.

German biologist Christiane Nüsslein-Volhard is one of just a handful of women to have been awarded the Nobel Prize in Medicine since it was established, in 1901. She won it in 1995, together with Americans Eric Weischaus and Edward B. Lewis, for their seminal work using the fruit fly to help explain birth defects in humans. Born in 1942 in the eastern German city of Magdeburg, Nüsslein-Volhard was one of five children. She knew by age 12 that she wanted to be a biologist and earned her degree in biochemistry at the Eberhard KarlsUniversity in Tübingen. She went on to get a doctorate in genetics from the same university in 1973. In 1975, Nüsslein-Volhard began studying biological morphogenesis, and several lab positions around Europe allowed her to pursue her research in the years that followed. Before becoming the director of the Max Planck Institute for Developmental Biology in Tübingen in 1985, she directed a group of scientists at another Tübingen lab for four years. From 1988 to 1993 she lectured at various universities in the United States, including Harvard, Yale and Indiana University. In 1994 she was awarded the Cross of Merit, First Class from the German government for her work. In 1998, Nüsslein-Volhard co-founded Artemis Pharmaceuticals, a company that develops genetically based medicines. Two years ago, Nüsslein-Volhard -- who was married for 10 years but has no children herself -- started a charitable foundation to give stipends to female lab scientists who need help covering childcare costs.

Even if your trip to Munich doesn't bring you to the Bavarian capital during its famous Oktoberfest, there's no reason to miss out on lifting liter-sized glasses of beer to the band's um-pa-pas -- regular visitors can even lock up their favorite beer stein in the Hofbräuhaus' "stein safe." Once a spot for only the highest of the high class to sit and have a drink, these days anyone is welcome to fill one of the Hofbräuhaus' 3,000 seats. Every year, hundreds of thousands tip back a liter of beer in fond memory of the Bavarian Duke Wilhem V. The duke had a particular palate when it came to suds and didn't care for the Munich local. That's why he regularly had barrels of brew shipped down from Lower Saxony. But transporting the kegs eventually became too expensive. Instead of learning to love the beer of the land, he hired his favorite brewery's master brewer and founded Munich's royal brewery, the Hofbräuhaus, in 1589. While nothing tops a visit to the Munich original, after returning home lucky tourists can frequent on of the world's Hofbräuhaus licensed replicas in Dubai, Cincinnati, Las Vegas and Jiangyin near Shanghai.

In search of a place where you can feel on top of the world, but not fit enough to attempt Mount Everest? The Zugspitze, Germany's highest peak, fits the bill. Located near the Austrian border in the Bavarian district of Garmish-Partenkirchen, the mighty mountain reaches an impressive 2,962 meters, or 9,718 feet. And while you most certainly could scale the Zugspitze in the traditional sense (hiking from the base to the top takes two days), the less sporty among us can also enjoy the breathtaking vistas thanks to the Zugspitzbahn cog railway, or two cable car lines that go to the peak. Of course, these options mean that the summit is regularly crowded with tourists, but then again, you can bet that, with all that fresh Alpine air, coffee and apple strudel never tasted so good.

Germans have a special relationship to their forests, of which there a good number in the country. Almost 32 percent of the country is forested. Millennia ago, practically all of the area that is now Germany was covered by vast forests which were nearly impenetrable -- one of the reasons that Romans had a hard time conquering the place. Over the years, tribal war, migration and cutting and clearing reduced Germany's forest to but a fraction of their former density. Still, the country's "forest culture" is still strong and Germans have a romantic attachment to their lovely wooded areas. Hiking and camping are still very popular and a trip into the woods is seen as a rejuvenating activity for both mind and body. In the olden days, hikers would don their Lederhosen, grabbed their carved walking sticks, and set off for the hills and forests. Today, they're more likely to pull on their spandex shorts and waterproof jackets and grab their Nordic Walking poles, but they're still heading out to commune with nature among the trees.

Born in Brandenburg in 1962, Birgit Fischer became acquainted with canoeing at the young age of six. At 18, she became the youngest canoeing champion in history at the 1980 Olympic Games. But that was only the beginning of her long list of records. Fischer went on to become the only woman to win Olympic medals 20 years apart and the only canoeist ever to win 12 medals (7 gold, 5 silver). The sum probably would have been higher had her native East Germany not boycotted the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles.

"In Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed -- but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock. So long, Holly." Orson Welles' character Harry Lime was, of course, horribly mistaken when he blamed the Swiss for inventing cuckoo clocks. That honor undoubtedly goes to Germany's Black Forest region, which -- admittedly -- is close to Switzerland, but still not quite there. A man called Franz Ketterer apparently came up with the idea to incorporate a cuckoo in a clock, using a system of pipes and bellows to create the bird's typical call. However, Ketterer still kept his products quite simple. The kitsch factor was only added a century later, when people started building the clocks in the shape of cute Black Forest chalets and added all sorts of movable items such as dancing couples and mill wheels. Along with garden gnomes, the clocks have certainly become a worldwide symbol for Germany, causing towns across the country -- like Gernrode in Saxony-Anhalt (pictured) -- to compete for the title of home of the largest cuckoo clock. This all might be the reason for many young Germans to see them as incredibly tacky and petty bourgeois. But plastic, neon-colored versions have found their way back into the odd hipster apartment here and there, and there have even been reports of the real thing being spotted on bare concrete walls in ultra-sleek homes.

Hamburg is a city of superlatives: the biggest, the most, the oldest -- starting with the biggest and busiest harbor in Germany. (In this photo, the harbor got a visit from the Queen Mary II cruise ship.) Currently a 383-acre harbor redevelopment project, HafenCity, is underway; it aims to give the city a new center with renewed flair. "Compared to other European cities, people have only a vague idea of what Hamburg is about," said Jürgen Bruns-Berentelg, who heads the public corporation in charge of the project. The goal is to follow in the successful footsteps of waterfront redevelopment projects in London's Docklands and Amsterdam's East Harbor. Thanks to its location at the confluence of the Alster and Elbe rivers, Germany's second-largest city has been a gateway to the world for centuries. The harbor grew by leaps and bounds starting in the 12th century, making Hamburg Germany’s most important port. The harbor dominates the cityscape, and modern day romantics still love watching the huge container ships -- bound for who knows what exotic destination -- float by, one every minute. A variety of aromas -- flowers, coffee, spices -- waft from the warehouses lining the shores. Even away from the harbor, water is everywhere in Hamburg. Foghorns can be heard downtown; shrieking sea gulls and an ever-present sea breeze further enhance the maritime feeling.

A "stammtisch" is a usually a table reserved for regulars at a restaurant or pub, designated by a reserved sign at the center of the table. Initially, it was where the people of higher status in a small town gathered together. However in oh-so-club-minded post-war Germany, it has evolved to become a regular group of a dozen or more people who gather to talk about a particular interest or hobby. As a result, there are stammtisches for languages, stammtisches for members of the same professions, stammtisches for philosophy or politics or cooking or music or knitting. There are even stammtisches for men who like beards.

Germans like to feel secure. Police officers are a common and comforting sight around German cities, but security impacts other areas as well. For the individual, that may mean studying for a dozen years instead of learning-by-doing in a full-time job they feel unprepared for. It also means that everyone buys personal liability insurance -- and would insure the hairs on their head if they could. In the case of misfortune -- unemployment, health care bills, loss from natural disaster -- remedies are expected from the state. According to the German Union of Public Officials (DBB), nearly 6 percent of Germans work for the state, which offers special benefits like restricted dismissal policies. Since September 11, terrorism concerns have put a new twist in the German preference for security. Anti-terror laws were implemented in early 2002 and parliament is considering toughening them up. Due to high-quality police enforcement, but also to the social state and strict employment laws, Germany is a very secure place to live -- whether that means traveling alone, being able to pay your bills or getting your money back on a faulty product.

Stars like Jude Law and Kiera Knightley love her, as do high-powered career women such as Martha Stewart. Female politicians including German Chancellor Angela Merkel love her, too -- Jil Sander, Germany's fashion queen. In fact, the Hamburg designer's sleek yet luxurious designs are credited with helping Merkel to transform herself from dowdy dowager to stylish stateswoman. Heidemarie Jiline Sander studied textile design and worked as a fashion editor before establishing her own fashion house in Hamburg in 1968. Back then, her purist approach to fashion -- understated, impeccably cut suits and separates in subdued hues -- broke all the rules. Over the years, the cool northern German blonde has garnered a die-hard fan base, even if her business relationships haven't always been smooth sailing. In 1999, Prada Group bought a 75 percent share of her company, and since then, Sander has had an on-again-off-again relationship with the new management, even walking out on her own house in 2000. Luckily for her fans, she was rehired in 2003 on a consulting contract, and celebrated a triumphant return on the catwalk. For fashionistas whose budget doesn't quite stretch to Jil Sander's clothing, a bit of the designer's cachet can be bought for a much smaller price in the form of one of her brand's top-selling perfumes.

If you thought the East had a monopoly on mullet haircuts and bleached denim in the 1980s then think again. The band Scorpions not only brought West Germans into line with the dubious fashion of the repressed East but also layered on a good dose of soft rock to keep spirits up during the Cold War. Despite not having a communist regime to blame for their styling, Scorpions were huge, regardless of the fact that they looked like plumbers from Leipzig on a bachelor party. Their output during the '70s established the band as the tight-trousered troubadours of free-thinking while their massive international hit "Winds of Change" in 1989 was almost single-handedly responsible for bringing down the Berlin Wall, despite claims from David Hasselhoff to the contrary. In a career which has spanned almost 40 years, Scorpions have conquered the Mount Olympus of Rock by taking the US by storm, bringing the shaggy perm to Soviet Russia, and racking up millions in global album sales. Now looking more like the Village (old) People, Scorpions are now in their fifth decade. So turn the volume to 10 and bow down to the behemoths of German rock!

A triceratops, a mummy, a mammoth and a Komodo dragon have all been spotted in downtown Frankfurt -- at the Senckenberg Museum, that is. With 6,000 square meters (64,583 square feet) of exhibition space, the Senckenberg is Germany's largest museum of natural history. Biodiversity on earth, the evolution of organisms and the development of our planet over the last several million years are central aspects of the museum's exhibition. The Senckenberg Nature Research Society, responsible for both the museum and a research institute, was founded in 1817 on the initiative of Germany's beloved poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832). Named for Johann Christian Senckenberg (1707-1772), a physician and important 18th century benefactor of the city of Frankfurt, the museum itself came into being in 1821. The Senckenberg Museum is open daily to the public.

All right, we know we're being a little mean these days, torturing you with the likes of roast with heavy gravy and Nuremberg's Christmas market when the heat (at least in parts of central Europe) is unbearable and Christmas seems about as far away as do the chances of the Faroe Islands' winning the soccer World Cup. But the Franconian city's annual highlight is certainly worthy of inclusion in a list of the best things about Germany. It's been around since at least the early 17th century and has gained Oktoberfest-like celebrity in recent decades. It probably helps that the market in Nuremberg's center is surrounded by Gothic churches and offers spectacular views of the city's imperial castle. To keep things pretty, organizers award gold, silver and bronze "Plum guys" to the prettiest booths. And needless to say, we mustn't forget Nuremberg's very own version of a beauty pageant: the election of the Christ Child, who traditionally opens the event. Candidates don't necessarily have to be gorgeous, but they do need to be between the ages of 16 and 19, at least 160 centimeters (five feet two inches) tall and completely free of any fear of heights as they need to give a little speech from a church balcony. Incidentally, they also have to be willing to fly as they also have to open the US version of the Christkindlesmarkt in Chicago and might soon have to do the same at another version in China.

One way guaranteed of doing the near impossible -- putting a spontaneous smile on the face of Germans -- is by offering them a package of "gummibärchen" or sweet ursine candies by the hugely-popular sweets producer "Haribo." First founded in Bonn in 1922, Haribo has a gigantic fan base. And its loyal followers aren't just kids but have also included leading lights Kaiser Wilhelm II, Albert Einstein, children's author Erich Kästner and even former Chancellor Konrad Adenauer. Though the sweets maker produces fruit gums, liquorice and globs of sugary gelatin in every possible shape, size and color, it's the little gummy bears that have made the brand a runaway success. Germans love to munch on the rubbery bears everywhere -- whether it's at school, at the movies or in the office. So popular is Haribo candy that there are entire shops even in upscale shopping centers entirely dedicated to it. There are even low-fat, sugar-free versions for diabetics and for the health-conscious. The Association of the German Confectionary Industry estimates that the average German consumes 3.49 kilograms of gummy candy each year. It may be the birthplace of the rich Black Forest cake and apple strudel, but when it comes to satisfying Germany's national sweet tooth it seems only Haribo will do.

Cornelia Funke has been called the German answer to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter books. She may not be quite as well known, but like Rowling, she is a best-selling author of children's books with a wide, and growing, fan base. Funke began her career as a children's book illustrator but became increasingly bored with the material she was given to illustrate. At age 35 she decided to try her hand at writing. Now Funke, who lives in Los Angeles, has some 40 books under her belt.Some have been translated into English, including Inkheart, Dragon Rider, The Thief Lord and the Wild Chicks series. Inkheart is currently being made into a feature film in English, and a straight-to-DVD movie of The Thief Lord was released earlier this year. What sets Funke apart from many other childrens' book authors? Possibly the fact that her characters are not always very nice. In fact, they're often grumpy, shifty, timid, complicated and cunning. But they are three dimensional without fail. "I like to show children things that I myself find incredibly wonderful, for example, Venice," Funke said. "Of course other things creep in that occupy one's mind, like the unbelievable lack of compassion that exists so often between humans and animals, or humans and humans. But I always try to bind it all in the story. The story comes first."

As much as Germans have to tolerate being labeled cold, rude and insensitive, they do have a tradition that virtually anyone can warm up to: Gemütlichkeit. Gemütlichkeit is a German noun whose closest English equivalent is "coziness," but the translation doesn't quite hit the nail on the head, which is why you can say Gemütlichkeit in English. If something is gemütlich (the adjectival form) -- like a room -- it is not just cozy. It is friendly, warm and stress-free. Über-cozy, as it were. Gemütlichkeit connotes a sense of belonging, cheerfulness and a slowed-down pace in that place where everybody knows your name. Your favorite local pub just has to be gemütlich -- otherwise, you wouldn't go there after a long hard day at the office. Think old-world, German comfort and you've got your Gemütlichkeit. Queen Victoria is said to have first used the word gemütlich in the English language. You'll even find it defined in the American Heritage Dictionary as "amicability." Some people are so taken with the notion, they've set up a "Gemütlichkeit Days" festival. It takes place every September in Wisconsin, USA to celebrate the German heritage of many Americans. So who said Germans are cold and somber? They can be very gemütlich -- as long as everything is just right.

Germany and cars, cars and Germany -- how many other products are so closely tied to the image of a country? Mercedes-Benz enjoys cult status among luxury-car afficionados. This may be due in part to the fact that company founders Gottlieb Daimler and Karl Benz invented the first internal-combustion-powered car, in the mid-1880s. In 1926, Benz & Cie. merged with the Gottlieb Daimler company, forming the brand with the iconic, three-pointed star logo. Daimler designed the logo himself; it is supposed to stand for the strength of his motorized vehicles on land, air and sea. (He initially wanted a fourth point, to represent outer space, but his mother objected, saying it was blasphemous.) In the end, Mercedes mostly became known for its automobiles, which run the gamut from trash trucks and tour buses to sportscars. Mostly the company is known for making high-quality limousines favored by the wealthy. Historically, Mercedes-Benz has had a reputation for quality workmanship and reliability. The company was a pioneer in automotive and safety advances, introducing such automotive standards as crumple zones, fuel-injection systems, and anti-lock brakes over the years. But in the late 1990s, Mercedes-Benz lost some of its edge. In recent years it has been struggling to overcome criticism that its vehicles are overpriced and unreliable. In 1998, Daimler-Benz and Chrysler agreed to combine their businesses — known as the "merger of equals" -- to create the company known today as DaimlerChrysler AG.

One thing's for certain: No one really knows when or where Black Forest Cake was invented -- or by whom. Some say the calorie bomb that mainly consists of cherry flavored cream, sugar, eggs and chocolate was named after the cherry brandy that's typical for the picturesque Black Forest region in southwestern Germany. Others claim the dark chocolate flakes on top are reminiscent of the Black Forest. A man called Josef Keller actually insisted that he invented the popular dessert as a young pastry chef apprentice in Bonn (the former German capital, which is nowhere near the Black Forest, by the way.) Be that as it may, the creation had a slow start -- by 1949, it only ranked 13th out of Germany's 15 best-known cakes. Since then, however, it has become the quintessential German cake, on offer at bakeries around the globe.

He's done it again. After winning the San Marino Grand Prix two weeks ago, Michael Schumacher beat reigning world champion Fernando Alonso at Germany's Nürburgring and took home the European Grand Prix. While it looks like Germany's Formula 1 superstar is back in the running for the world champion title, the 37-year-old doesn't really need another title as he's already made it pretty difficult for others to live up to his achievements. Since his debut in 1991, Schumacher has been champion seven times and won 86 races, making him the most successful Formula 1 driver of all time.

Classy and citrusy, fruity and fresh, delicate and complex can only describe wine from a Riesling, Germany's most widely grown grape variety. First documented in the year 1435 in Rüsselheim, the grapes are mainly grown today near the Rhine, Mosel, Saar and Ruwer Rivers. The vines flourish in hard, clay-like soil and their grapes are harvested late in the season. The best grapes may not be harvested until January, at a maximum of -7 degrees Celsius (19.4 degrees Fahrenheit), to be made into "Eiswein," an elegant wine that commands a high price due to its rarity. The rest of the harvest is produced as German Rieslings, which enjoy international respect and are savored around the world.

While those without a taste for opera may not see what's so special about the chance to sit on wooden benches for hours on end, getting tickets to the annual Festspiel in Bayreuth is like winning the lottery for opera aficionados. When famous German composer Richard Wagner settled into the Bavarian town of Bayreuth and wrote "The Ring of the Nibelung" he was determined it be played in the most appropriate of settings -- so, with the help of his on-again, off-again patron King Ludwig II -- he raised the funds to have the perfect venue constructed and the Festspielhaus has hosted the dramatic Ring cycle since 1876. Though other events are staged in the purpose-built opera hall as well, it's the "Ring's" four pieces that draw in the annual crowds of politicians and celebrities. Everyone else who wants a chance to see one of Germany's most well-known operas, the 2004 "Die Walküre" is pictured here, will need to have a lot of luck. Letters for tickets need to be spent years in advance to make it on the waiting list that or try their luck bribing a student at Bayreuth University into waiting outside the opera house for weeks on end since a small number of tickets are made spontaneously available and advertised only at the local place of higher education.

1989 was a stellar year for Germany. The Berlin Wall came down, paving the way for German reunification, and Steffi Graf, queen of tennis, and Boris Becker, wunderkind, achieved a double whammy by winning Wimbledon singles titles! Nowadays, the wall in the minds continues to divide Wessies and Ossies, and Steffi, 36, and Boris, 38, have both retired from tennis, but not from the limelight. Steffi, the longest ranking Number One in women's tennis, has not always garnered the mass adoration of Germans, but her lady-like manner and professionalism have won her respect. Marrying tennis co-star Andre Agassi upped her celebrity wattage, and both recently appeared on a German talk show, the picture of wedded bliss. The couple, however, has chosen to live and raise their family in America, away from the German paparazzi. Boris, on the other hand, still exudes boyish charm and manages to provide plenty of fodder for the tabloids, with his tax troubles, high profile split from ex-wife Babs and trysts in a broom closet. Nine months later, his daughter by a Russian model, turned out to be the spitting image of dad. Boris continues to be photographed in the company of various exotic lovelies and not just provides entertainment value for the popular press, but even tried an unsuccessful stint as a media host himself.

Germany's beaches have a very small window during which they are blessed with perfect beach-going conditions. Most of the time, it's a bit too chilly, a bit too windy, or a bit too drizzly to just stretch out on a normal sun bed. That's where the Strandkorb or "beach basket" comes in handy. Invented by basket-weaver Wilhelm Bartelmann in 1882, the beach chairs dotting Germany's North and Baltic Sea coasts allow people to enjoy the seaside in almost any weather. Ensconced in the chair's high wicker sides and roof, beach-goers are protected from flying grains of sand, stiff breezes, and even the odd rain shower. For those few moments when the sun becomes blindingly bright, there's an adjustable sun shade. To make the beach experience even more civilized, there are also pull-out footrests and tables. And because no one wants to sit upright on the beach all day, it goes without saying that the chairs can be adjusted to a semi- or fully-reclined position. Most beach baskets today are two-seaters -- perfect for a cozy tête-à-tête while gazing out at the surf. So popular are the beach baskets that they're not just restricted to the beach anymore. Enterprising café owners have begun adding them to their outdoor seating options, bringing a little beach feeling to the city center.

Known for its white chalk cliffs, miles of sandy beaches and expanses of calm beech woods, Rügen -- Germany's biggest island -- lies in the Baltic Sea, off the country's northeastern coast. Megaliths found throughout the island attest to its settlement more than 1,000 years ago by pre-Christian tribes. Rügen was conquered by Denmark in 1168, when Danish Bishop Absalon destroyed the pagan diety of the Ranen in 1168, beginning the Christianization of the island. It was passed to Pomerania in 1325, and shared the history of Swedish Pomerania from 1648 to 1815, when the island was taken by Prussia. Due to the supposedly curative properties of Baltic Sea air, the island became as a center for rest cures in the 19th century. Many towns -- such as Binz, Sellin and Baabe, with their typical spa architecture -- sprouted up as a result. Today, tourism and agriculture are he island's economic mainstays, and tourism is eroding some of the old folkways that can still be found on remote parts of the island. For many who have not seen the Baltic Sea coast in person, Rügen is best known as depicted by Romantic painter Caspar David Friedrich, in his 1830 oil tableau "Chalk Cliffs of Rügen."

Its name means "people's car" and, famously, Volkswagen grew out of Adolf Hitler's desire for just that. A fan of cars himself, he wanted one on the market that practically anyone could afford. But before more than a handful of cars were produced, World War II interrupted things and the factory, in what is now Wolfsburg, was used to produce military vehicles instead. British Army officer Major Ivan Hirst is considered to have saved the company by taking over the factory after the war, though it was in a dilapidated state and many thought the carmaker didn't stand a chance. Mass production of the original prototype, the Bug's predecessor, began and was successful enough that Volkswagen introduced a second model in 1950. The process of globalization began soon after, when VW branched out into Canada, Brazil and the US -- a process that half a century later resulted in 44 factories on five continents and customers in 150 countries. The legendary VW Käfer (German for Bug) broke the world production record in 1972 with 15,007,034 Bugs assembled, but, due to financial difficulties and competition on the global market, it was soon replaced by the Polo, Golf and Passat. Today, cars from the Volkswagen Group constitute 9.1 percent of the global market and an impressive 18.9 percent of the western European market. The Audi brand group (Audi, SEAT and Lamborghini) makes up the Volkswagen Group together with the Volkswagen brand group (Skoda, Bentley and Bugatti).

The Nürburgring's North Circuit, dubbed "The Green Hell" by racecar driver Jackie Stewart, is still considered to be the most demanding race track in the world. Construction of the Nürburgring in western Germany's Eifel Mountains was completed in 1927, but it was decided just two years later not to use the entire track for a single race. Grands Prix took place on the North Circuit (originally 22.8 kilometers or 14 miles), while motorcycle and other minor races used the smaller, safer South Circuit (originally 7.7 kilometers or 4.8 miles). Driver complaints, particularly as the North Circuit was becoming more dangerous for the latest generation of Formula 1 cars in the late 1960s, and a fatal accident led to continuous revisions of the track. However, possibilities for improvement were limited by its proximity to the mountains. A new version of the Nürburgring, designed to meet the highest safety standards, was completed in 1984, though some fans were disappointed by its lack of resemblance to the original. The Ring is not just for top racers like Michael Schumacher. It is also made available in the evenings and on Sundays to anyone with a street-legal vehicle. Car makers, including BMW, Porsche and DaimlerChrysler, also make use of it as a testing ground for prototypes.

Don't be fooled by the medieval disguise: below Neuschwanstein's facade stands an edifice built with all the comforts the late 19th century had to offer a spoiled king largely unencumbered with the travails of war and conquest. <br><br> Ludwig II, often said to escape to the palace in the Bavarian forest for some R&R after a hectic day on the throne in Munich, was able to summon his servants with a ring of the electric bell. An automatic toilet flushing system, running water on every floor and central heating in the royal residence put the shy, unmarried king's getaway near the top of the World's Best Bachelor Pads. <br><br> Not only the inspiration for Disneyland's "Sleeping Beauty's Castle," Neuschwanstein is one of Germany's most-visited tourists sites with about 1.3 million people visiting "Mad Kind" Ludwig's fairy tale castle each year. Some Bavarians even claim it's the world's most photographed building.

When you buy an appliance in the US, you'll probably be told that "if it's broke, we'll fix it or replace it, money-back guarantee." If you buy a German television set, washing machine, or even a used German-made vehicle from a respectable car dealer, you can be sure that the item ain't going to go broke in the first place -- or at least not in the two or three year warranty period. Products that are stamped "made in Germany" might cost somewhat more than a cheaper copycat version elsewhere, but they are built for long-lasting shelf life and usually live up to the Teutonic reputation for innovation, quality and reliability. Small wonder that the economy is export-driven, and the demand for German appliances, cars and machinery is healthy abroad. But alas, all this fantastic over-engineering, attention to detail and obsession with durability comes at a price. German products are so good that you rarely need to replace them, so retailers can't rely too much on repeat business from the old machine goin' broke.

When foreigners think of German cities, Berlin, Frankfurt and Munich immediately come to mind. And then there is Heidelberg, the medieval university town nestled on the Neckar River. Thousands of visitors crowd its narrow cobblestone streets that rise up a hill to a romantic sandstone castle. Below, arch bridges that date from the middle ages span the river. The city has always attracted poets and thinkers such as Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Martin Heidegger and Mark Twain, visitors to sample its sites and outdoorsy types to savor its lush surroundings.

It can be translated as steadiness, dependability, trustworthiness, all things viewed as quintessentially German. And as stereotypes go, such qualities might seem boring compared to those ascribed to the French and Italians (sexy, frivolous, lively), but they are better than being typecast as drunks or idiots, as some other nations are. And many say that such qualities in the German national character have propelled this nation, broken after World War II, to its economic miracle in the decades that followed and toward being the world's leading exporter today. Because "Made in Germany" still carries weight and implies quality: from BMWs and Mercedes to Bayer and Siemens and world-class beer. And that is because Germany's goods are boringly and mercifully dependable and trustworthy.

Held this year under the motto "Digital solutions for work and life," CeBIT is the world's largest digital IT and telecommunications trade fair. 6,262 exhibitors, over half of them from outside Germany, came from companies like T-Com, Sharp Electronics, TomTom, Nokia and Fujitsu Siemens Computers to showcase their latest developments and network with customers. Preparations are currently underway for next CeBIT fair, to be held March 15-21, 2007 in Hanover.

Germans are among the world's most enthusiastic recyclers and that tendency can likely be attributed in part to the Green Dot. Private companies started the business in 1990 to comply with legislation requiring producers to collect and recycle all packaging they used for goods sold in Germany. In exchange for a licensing fee, companies are allowed to print the Green Dot logo on their packaging, which consumers here can dump in trash cans designated with the design. That's where the trouble begins. Friendships have been strained by such complex issues as where to dispose of the wrapper from that döner kebab picked up from the corner snack bar. It certainly doesn't go in the glass bin. But does it go in the yellow bin for packaging or in the blue one for paper products? Or maybe it should go in with the organic trash since it's practically disintegrated from all that garlic sauce? If all else fails, there's always the regular old rubbish bin, but what good is that for the environment?

In medieval times, few people specialized in handcraft trades like construction, masonry and bricklaying -- with the exception of the monks in communities run by the church. By the late Middle Ages, cities began to develop and the demand for skilled craftsmen increased. Those who practiced trades soon formed guilds. Workers who didn't belong to a guild were disadvantaged -- some were even persecuted. Freedom of trade was part of the French Revolution, but wasn't introduced in Prussia until 1810. In the early 20th century young apprentices began a tradition of traveling around for several to collect work experience. During their time on the road they wore a customary costume of flared pants and a buttoned vest and earn their bread by practicing their craft. Some people still undertake such apprenticeship journeys today. In the 1930' and 1940's, Nazi ideology encouraged technological advancement and -- somewhat paradoxically -- emphasized physical labor as a virtue. The Nazi regime began requiring a proof of competence certificate from craftsmen, a law the Allies abolished in 1945. Handcraft also played a prominent role in communist ideology in East Germany. Handcraft professions are not uncommon in Germany today. The umbrella organization for German handcraft (ZDH) reported that 4.8 million people are employed in handcraft jobs today, and 480,000 more are being trained. The handcraft sector brought in 456 billion euros ($581 billion) in revenue last year alone.

"Conscious of their responsibility before God and man, inspired by the determination to promote world peace as an equal partner in a united Europe, the German people…have adopted this Basic Law," begins the preamble of Germany's "Grundgesetz" (Basic Law), the democratic framework for the country. The Basic Law first went into effect in 1949 as a constitution for war-battered West Germany. Wary of future dictators similar to Adolf Hitler, writers of the Basic Law made provisions to prevent another such catastrophe: the power of the president was considerably reduced, federalism was strengthened, political parties were constitutionally recognized and a Federal Constitutional Court was established to sustain the Basic Law. Article 1 is considered one of its most significant parts of the Basic Law, especially considering the black mark the Holocaust has left on German history: "Human dignity shall be inviolable." Forty years after the Basic Law came into being, the Berlin Wall fell and the two Germanys became one. At that time, a proposal was made to rewrite the document but, instead, minor revisions were made to the existing version and its legal framework was applied to the entire reunified country. In a 1999 foreword to the Basic Law, then Federal President Johannes Rau wrote: "The commitments to human dignity, the freedom of the person, freedom of faith and creed, the rule of law and the social state which are anchored in the Basic Law have made the Federal Republic the most humane state ever to exist on German soil."

He is the German Wunderkind. Dirk Nowitzki is the man who entered the holy realm of American basketball and showed that, yes, white boys can jump. The 27-year-old has been playing for the Dallas Mavericks since 1998. At two meters thirteen or seven feet in height, Nowitzki is the team's most successful scorer and rebounder. He has been downright lavished with awards: voted the best foreign player in the NBA and is a five-time NBA All-Star team member. But he has also proven his talent at home. With the German national team, Nowitzki won bronze at the World Championships in 2002 and silver in the European Championships in 2005. Surprisingly, Nowitzki only started playing basketball at the age of 13, unlike most of his US colleagues. But his talent could also be the result of good genes. His father was a professional handball player and his mother a member of the national German women's basketball team. The man often called "the best German export since Volkswagen" has no superstar airs about him, though. Nowitzki is very well-liked for his open and down-to-earth demeanour.

In April last year, a rare -- and brief -- paroxysm of religious feeling passed through largely secular Germany. Or maybe it was more like a hiccup. Cardinal Joseph Alois Ratzinger, native of Bavaria and long-time confidante of Pope John Paul II, had been elected by the College of Cardinals. He was now Benedict XVI. "We are the Pope!" screamed the headline of the mass-circulation newspaper Bild and many Germans, even those who hadn't stepped foot into a church in decades, took pride in the fact that a local boy had made good. Of course, the excitement quickly died down and the pews in most places of worship today remain largely empty save on Christmas and Easter. Indeed, there was some concern about Benedict, a German who seemed out of line with a generally liberal-minded Germany. Since 1978, he had been head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, better known as the Holy Inquisition in times past. While his group wasn't burning people any more, they were imposing the boss's rather hard-line views on priests who dared step out of the confines of official orthodoxy. And as pope, Benedict indicated he wasn't planning on moving from conservative views on questions such as the role of women, contraception and sexuality. A year into his papacy, however, some critics are surprised. They say the man once known as "God's Rottweiler" is showing a softer side, even though he's sticking to his guns on many beliefs. Benedict has declared that one of the goals of his papacy is to revitalize the Catholic Church in Europe. Considering the paltry Sunday attendance at many European cathedrals these days, he'll need something just short of a miracle to achieve that.

When a new TV show for children called "Stories to Laugh, Stories About Things" went on the air for the first time in 1971, the producers could have spent some extra time coming up with a catchier title. But 35 years ago, Germany's television offerings were rather limited, which helped to attract many viewers to the program that alternated animated cartoons with well-researched features on topics as diverse as "Why is the Sky Blue?", "What Happens When We Die?" and "Can Pigs Swim?" (Yes, they can, by the way.) In 1972, the show was renamed "Die Sendung mit der Maus," or "The Broadcast With the Mouse," and an orange cartoon rodent became its mascot. To this day, the program, which has won numerous German and international awards, remains one of the most popular children's shows despite its somewhat antiquated concept. And kids don't seem to be the only ones tuning in: The average age of viewers is 39.

Despite what some mean people have to say about them, Germans are actually a fun-loving people. It's just that the German idea of fun verges on the compulsive and does not always coincide with what people from other countries do when they want to kick back and relax. There are Germans who get a total kick out of making their apartments clinically spotless. Or those who tremble with joy at the prospect of returning their car to mint condition on a regular basis. Or those for whom detailed cataloguing of other people's mistakes is a supreme example of self-fulfillment. But thanks to their proverbial thoroughness, or "Gründlichkeit," Germans can transform even the most inane chore into a semi-spiritual, if obsessive, experience. Those foreigners who have had the misfortune of staying with a German family during their annual ritual of repainting the pristine white walls the same shade of immaculate white yet again know that a German eye perceives what no other eye can: the invisible dirt.

Germans care. Not all of them care, of course. But enough do so that Germany has a vast state social net that catches those who fall, whether they have lost their jobs, can't find employment or are unable to work. The social welfare system ensures that people in Germany have roofs over their heads, food on their tables and clothes on their backs. Yes, some slip through the cracks, but their numbers are relatively small. Yes, other countries are more generous, but in most of the world people are far less magnanimous than the Germans when their neighbors suffer misfortune.

Only a game? Hardly. Like many things in this country, Germans take their Skat very seriously. Skat is Germany's most popular card game, matched only by the more challenging Doppelkopf. Played by three to four people, it is a game of constant bidding and "b-s-ing" -- or bluffing -- not unlike poker. The deck consists of 32 cards: the 7, 8, 9, 10, and jack through ace in four different suits. Skat was created around 1810 and was based on the three-player game of Tarock, also known as Tarot in French, and the four-player game Sheepshead. People also play Skat in Austria and in US American regions with large German populations, like the Midwest and Texas. The key to the game? "To be a good Skat player, you have to know people," as someone once said.

The Ruhrgebiet, Germany's formerly majestic and powerful industrial center, is a Mecca for fans of concrete all over the world. <br><br> The north-western area of Germany, which almost seamlessly joins the heaving cities of Dortmund, Bochum, Essen, Gelsenkirchen and Duisburg (among others) into a megalopolis bigger than New York, was once the pumping heartland of German industry. The coal that fired the furnaces of the country and the steel that those furnaces melded enabled Germany to become the power it was, before that power was harnessed by malevolent forces. <br><br> The Ruhrgebiet was an area of such importance to the Nazis during World War II that the Allied forces concentrated a considerable amount of firepower on destroying the region. The effects can be seen to this day in the form of the rapidly assembled and aesthetically-challenged buildings of the 1950's that rose from the rubble. <br><br> In a second blow, the Ruhrgebiet suffered when cheaper raw materials began to flood Germany. The area attempted to move towards the technology sector, leaving many mines and steelworks to close down. <br><br> As a result of its history, the region and its people have a dogged resilience and earthiness, which, while a source of some derision in other parts of the country, deserve respect. And with the European City of Culture title coming to Essen, and the region as a whole, in 2010 the Ruhrgebiet could well have the last laugh.

With its famous autobahn and the four-wheeled rockets that almost fly down its lanes, Germany -- inevitably -- is equated with speed. And no vehicle is regarded as fast and sexy as the luxury German sports car Porsche. Founded in 1931 by Ferdinand Porsche, also the engineer who designed the first Volkswagen, the company showed its first car, the Porsche 64, in 1938 -- using many VW Beetle parts. In 1948, it began producing its first sports car for mass consumption, the Porsche 356, while continuing to create cars for motor-racing. The most famous of all, the Porsche 911, was first launched in 1963 and defined the brand. These days, Porsche is regarded as one of the most profitable and stable carmakers in the world. It receives raves from both automobile reviewers and its drivers. Vroom...

What happens when pent up emotions, barricaded for most of the year behind facades of seriousness, efficiency and insularity, spill out? Karneval happens. Imagine being a stereotypical German for 11 months of the year and then, for a few days in February, being allowed to let you hair down, stop worrying about whose turn it is to wash the front door step and put on outrageous costumes. To comprehend that sort of release, one has to come to Germany to partake of the madness that is Karneval. While the celebration of the end of winter is a widespread affair with traditional events unchanged in centuries taking place all over the country, Karneval takes on its most surreal guise in Cologne. The Fifth Season, as it is known, officially starts on November 11 and culminates in a three-day free-for-all beer extravaganza ending on Ash Wednesday. The main draw is the Rosenmontag celebration and procession which turns the city into something resembling a cross-dressers convention on acid. Just like Oktoberfest, Karneval is a uniquely German must for any adventurous visitor. Once experienced, never forgotten, never again?

Germans are famous for their love of "die Natur" -- the great outdoors. Sadly, not everyone is lucky enough to have the Black Forest or the Bavarian Alps on their doorstep, but in the mid-19th century, Dr Daniel Schreber from Leipzig came up with the next best thing -- the urban allotment. These became known, in his honor, as "Schrebergarten" and garden colonies are now an integral feature of the German urban experience. Ranging from lush to threadbare, these touching testimonies to a nation's need for alfresco life are microcosms of German society, characterized largely by a strict adherence to certain rules that seems strangely at odds with the underlying principle -- escape from the stresses and strains of city life. Traditionally populated by green-fingered senior citizens, "Schrebergarten" are now becoming increasingly popular with a younger generation of urbanites looking to get in touch with their inner agriculturalist. Admittedly, allotments tend to be more about garden gnomes than untrammeled nature -- but either way, the country's cities would be far duller without them.

When Germans move abroad (we're talking mainly about moving closer to the equator here), they usually start out by falling in love with the fact that they can walk around in t-shirts virtually all year round. "I spent Christmas Eve on the beach," is a great way to tease those poor loved ones who are still stuck at home. But sooner or later, they all begin to miss something that's hard to explain to a foreigner: Germany's four seasons. "Germany's four seasons?" you might ask. That's not exactly an exclusive phenomenon. Think spring in Paris or fall in New England. Think summer in Sweden and winter in Vienna. Well, yes, but that's just not quite like Germany's four seasons, you're bound to hear -- never mind the fact that Germans constantly complain about the weather and have taken to claiming that the country's pretty much switched to two seasons by now: ice-cold winter and sizzling summer. Long live the vier Jahreszeiten!

Nobel Prize winner and political gadfly Günter Grass is one of Germany's best-known authors, who became the literary spokesman of an entire generation with his extraordinary first novel, "The Tin Drum." Born in 1927 in Danzig (now Gdansk), Grass' work is often categorized as a representative of "Vergangenheitsbewältigung," which can be roughly translated as "dealing with the past." Indeed, Grass grew up in turbulent times. Part of the Hitler Youth as a child, he was drafted into the army at the age of 16 and wounded in battle in 1945. After the war, he made a living as a miner, a farm laborer and a stonemason's apprentice. He began his masterpiece "The Tin Drum" while living in Paris in 1956; it was published in 1959. Its central character, Oscar, refuses to grow up in protest over the cruelties of German history. Four decades later, in 1959, Grass was awarded literature's top prize for the work. Some say the recognition came so late partly due to his strong, and sometimes unpopular, political beliefs. He has been a fervent supporter of the Social Democrats, and once worked as a ghost writer for SPD leader and Chancellor Willy Brandt. Besides novels, Grass has written poetry, plays and essays and is a sculptor and printmaker. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Grass argued for the continued separation of East and West Germany, saying a unified nation would take up its belligerent ways once again. Although Grass has been criticized for resting on his laurels after his early literary success, in 2002 he returned to the forefront of world literature with the novel "Crabwalk," which addresses the taboos of German guilt and victimization.

No one could sing about 99 red balloons like she could. Nena was the German new-wave pop icon of the 1980s. Her 1983 hit "99 Luftballons" went on to become the first song by a German-speaking band to reach number one in the US charts. Whether in Japan, Mexico, Canada, Australia or Britain, everyone loved hearing her smoky voice sing about Cold War tension. Born Gabriele Susanne Kerner in 1960, Nena got her nickname from a holiday in Spain as a three-year-old, where the Spaniards took to calling her niña, or girl. Nena's band broke up in 1987, and she embarked on a less successful solo career and founded a family. But the new millennium marked Nena's unexpected comeback. Her 2005 album "Willst du mit mir gehen?" even went platinum. Nena's heart belongs to children though. Since 1990, she has made several children's albums and synchronized or contributed songs for children's films. She is also the founder of the organization "Wonders Exist," which supports children and teenagers living in homes and socially weak families.

In its current incarnation only 57 years old, the Frankfurt Book Fair is actually the continuation of a tradition that started over 500 years ago. A book fair in Frankfurt helped to distribute the Gutenberg Bible, which the goldsmith generally credited with inventing movable type printed in nearby Mainz in the mid-15th century. But the city's literary event was eclipsed in size and importance by Leipzig's book fair during the Enlightenment. The Aftermath of World War II, however, spelled the end of Leipzig's glory days as the book fair capital, located as it was in the Soviet-sector of Germany and later the GDR. Able to capitalize on its location in West Germany, the Frankfurt Book Fair kicked off in October 1949 and has gone on annually ever since. Now the world's biggest and most important book fair, it draws over a quarter of a million visitors and thousands of publishers from throughout the world. Each year the fair spotlights a different country or region, spurring publishers to showcase their wares concerning that part of the world and putting on readings and panel discussions from bestselling authors as well as up-and-coming writers. India is the focus for 2006.

To explore the world of German sausage is to fall into the abyss -- as Eskimos have hundreds of words for snow, so to do Germans for sausages. Maybe that is unfair. After all, snow is snow and a weisswurst is not a bratwurst even if they are both wursts. So then, how to navigate through wurstland? Well, there are a few things to keep in mind. First, weisswursts come from Bavaria and should not be eaten after church bells ring at noon. Second, bratwursts that come from Thuringia are long and fried in spices and beer; those from Nuremberg are minis and according to some, tastier (consider the source). Third, to avoid wurst-confusion, stick to street vendors. Or begin developing a wurst-sense at a German supermarket with their -- boarwursts, porkwursts, beefwursts, liverwursts, redwursts, spottedwursts, blackwursts, stickywursts and so on -- that only someone with Teutonic blood or a professor at a sausage school could differentiate between. And if you are still not convinced that sausage is serious business in Germany, look to organizations such as the Association for the Protection of Munich White Sausage or many court cases involving wursts that fill German dockets. If all this is too much, hot dog stands are the latest thing in Germany right now -- serving Danish, French and even Mexican style hot dogs -- not wursts.

A showpiece of German engineering prowess, the Transrapid is a magnetic-levitation, or maglev, train that can reach speeds of about 550 kilometers per hour (342 miles per hour). The system was developed by Transrapid International, a joint venture of the German companies Siemens and ThyssenKrupp. Research into the system was begun back in the late 1960s and was once thought to be the future of train travel in the country. The Transrapid train is equipped with levitation and guidance electromagnets which, when powered, lift the vehicle so while traveling there is no contact between the train and the tracks. It is said to be more energy efficient than standard trains, have a lower environmental impact and be decidedly less noisy. While the technology is advanced, so are the costs. The high price tag means it is not considered a commercially viable option for wide-scale use in Germany. Currently, the only operational passenger service is a 30 km (18 mile) stretch between Shanghai's downtown and Pudong International Airport, which was inaugurated in 2002.

You may not know what "Jibe ho!" means, or how to tack properly on a sailboat. But that shouldn't stop any visitor to Germany from making the trip to the far north at the end of June for the Kieler Woche, or Kiel Week. The world's largest regatta of some of the most spectacular wind-powered boats is not just a celebration of eco-friendly transportation. It is a party unmatched in the north of Germany that attracts sailors from around the world. When the event originated in 1882, the Kiel Week was an opportunity for wealthy "gentlemen" to gather and show off their toys. Naturally, they didn't have to grab a line and trim the jibs. Trained crews were there to do that, much to the adoration of the poor spectators on land. Within 10 years, it attracted international competition but was still something more for blue bloods and industrialists than for the common folk. After World War II, the character of the event changed dramatically, with more and more happening for the landlubbers. But the only thing that got wet on the city-dwellers was their throats from the large amount of beer being consumed. In the 21st century, the most likely reason you'll hear "Man overboard!" is when a drunken "sailor" has fallen off the pier. Nevertheless, the windjammer parade on the final day is a sight nobody should miss.

As a vacation destination, Germany has a lot to offer, what with beaches and sand dunes in the north, and charming Alpine vistas in the south. But unlike the French, Germans tend to seek greener pastures abroad when it's time for that six-week holiday, and the further, the better. The wanderlust of the German people is truly admirable. Thought you were completely alone in the wilds of Canada, just you, your canoe and the grizzlies? Think again. Chances are that wisp of smoke on the horizon is coming for a German couple's campfire. Found a great little restaurant with organic produce and an immaculate kitchen in that tiny Indian village you stumbled across? Don't be surprised when the owner turns out to be a German who fell in love with the place and never went home. Of course, this adventure-seeking mentality can get the Germans into a spot of trouble now and then. Or is it mere coincidence than when tourists are taken hostage in some far-flung but troubled part of the world, they're bound to be German? But for the most part, the national wanderlust is simply an expression of a desire to reach beyond the confines of the familiar and connect with people of other cultures. In all honesty however, this applies to only half the population. The other half are seemingly content to return to Mallorca year after year in the misguided belief that there is some small part of this Spanish island that has yet to be discovered by the Germans. Anyone who's been there can tell you -- there isn't.

The baroque opera house of the Saxon State Opera in Dresden is one of the most famous in the world and has an illustrious and turbulent history. The majestic building, which lies on a bank of the Elbe River, was first opened in 1841. After a fire destroyed the building in 1869, architect Gottfried Semper and his son, Manfred, designed the new building, which opened nine years later. Before the building was destroyed during World War II during the Allied bombing, numerous works premiered here including many by Richard Strauss and Richard Wagner. The beloved opera was reopened in 1985 -- 40 years to the day of its destruction -- exactly as it was, and with the same opera that was performed before its destruction, Carl Maria von Weber's "Der Freischütz." These days, the opera attracts music-lovers from around the globe --performances are almost always sold out.

Bombs all but flattened the western-German city of Cologne during World War II, and its cathedral -- the Kölner Dom -- was hit 14 times. But fortunately for the town's skyline -- and the country's heritage -- the damage wasn't enough to bring down the massive, high-gothic architectural masterpiece. Today, the Cologne Cathedral remains Northern Europe's largest Gothic church, and it's one of the most visited sites in all of Germany. It was built on the banks of the Rhine River, to hold the reliquary said to contain the bones of the Three Wise Men. The shrine -- the largest reliquary in the world -- is a large gilded and decorated triple sarcophagus. Construction on the cathedral began in 1248, but was put on hold in 1560 when the money ran out. It was finally completed by 1880. Visitors can climb to the top of one of its spires, which reach 157 meters (515 feet). One of Germany's most iconic buildings, the historic cathedral was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It was threatened with removal from the UNESCO list after officials complained that high rises slated to be built nearby would ruin the cathedral's visual impact. But plans for the tall buildings appear to have been scrapped, and for now, at least, the cathedral will keep its World Heritage status.

German cuisine just wouldn't be the same without the omnipresent sauerkraut. It's usually served with pork, although there are regional differences. Bavarians prefer this fermented white cabbage with smoked meat and dumplings or a nice juicy bratwurst. In Swabia, sauerkraut and potato noodles known as "schupfnudeln" are standard fare. In the region around the German capital, you're sure to find sauerkraut with pig knuckles on the menu. Sauerkraut, which means sour cabbage, is an excellent source of Vitamin C. Low in calories and practically fat-free, sauerkraut can also help you get rid of those extra winter pounds. But there is a downside: many sauerkraut lovers suffer from flatulence as a result. If you're part of this crowd, just add some caraway to your cabbage.

The Currywurst, a grilled or cooked sausage smothered in curry powder and ketchup, is a divisive issue. Generally, the dish is thought to have been created by a certain Herta Heuwer in the Berlin district of Charlottenburg in 1949. But ever since German author Uwe Timm attributed the creation in a 1993 novella to his fellow Hamburg resident Lena Brückner, who he said first served the meaty morsel in the harbor city in 1947, swords have been drawn. On the subject of Currywurst booths, however, harmony reigns. These are the places where night owls, particularly in Berlin, Hamburg and the Ruhr region, go when, after a night out on the town, they have a hankering for grease, be it wurst, a plate of French fries or the final beer of the evening. Some people go there during the day, too.

With the inclusion of the dirndl and the lederhose on our list of reasons to love Germany the Bavarians triumph once again. The fact is that these traditional clothing items aren't German but Bavarian and Austrian contributions to the world of fashion. The dirndl is a dress made of cotton, linen or even silk with a closely fitted top that fastens with buttons, hooks or a zipper and below it a full pleated skirt whose length varies. Traditionally ladies wear a white puffy-sleeved blouse underneath and an apron on top. In the old days, a woman could let the world know she was single by wearing her apron bow tied on her right side. Married women tied it on the left. <br><br> The male counterpart to the dirndl, the lederhose, is commonly made of brown or green leather and decorated with elaborate embroidery. The pants are usually held up by suspenders, often with a strap over the chest. The most prized lederhosen are those that have become so well worn that they shine -- and some men even grease up their pants to get them that way. <br><br> Though they are a relatively common site in Bavaria -- and practically obligatory at Munich's Oktoberfest -- dirndl and lederhose wearers may be made to feel like country bumpkins elsewhere in Germany. Sadly, only a proud few even dare -- and they're mainly tourists.

Imagine any other country in the world trying to hold Oktoberfest. If the Brits put thousands of heavily 'refreshed' revellers together in a cramped tent and blasted them with "oompah" music for hours on end the result would be carnage. An entire regional police force would have to cancel all leave. The Americans would have to call it Morning-fest as that would be about as long as it would last before they would all have to go and sleep it off. And the French? They wouldn't even dream of anything so vulgar. That's why the annual celebration of getting utterly annihilated on heavy mind-blowing beer to the strain of men in leather shorts crooning about getting their goats up the Alps is such a hit in Germany. Germans love beer and the respect they have for the golden throat charmer embraces all. Oktoberfest brings international hop fanatics to Munich and fills them with enough alcohol to stun not just a large elephant but a considerable herd. Okay, there is the odd bout of unruliness but Oktoberfest is a celebration of one of the good things in German life and the Germans love to share that with others. If you want to get hammered and fight, go to Mallorca in July. If you want to enjoy stein after stein of great ale in an unsurpassed atmosphere -- go to Oktoberfest.

From the untouched marshes and lakes of the Oder Valley in the north-eastern part of the country to the romantically grand Lake Constance in the south -- on the non-demarcated border between Germany, Austria and Switzerland -- Germany is a lake lover's paradise. Admittedly, some of the thousands of lakes are no more than glorified puddles, but that makes practicing synchronized swimming moves in them no less fun. Practically as soon as the ice breaks, Germans are ready to rip off their clothes, slip into an extra tight pair of vintage Speedos and go for a dip. Around Berlin, even dogs have their own lakes -- those are the few places in Germany where splashing in the water and ruining your neighbor's towel is considered acceptable behavior.

Dirty, sullen, and oh so grey. How could anyone ever include this city on a list of favs? After all, Berliners are famous for grumbling and mumbling. There is no end to the dusty construction just everywhere. And in a country of washed sidewalks and pretty window boxes, of "ordnung" and efficiency, its capital seems curiously un-German with its dog-do-filled sidewalks, late trains, graffiti and unkempt empty lots. Frankly, in Berlin, forget grandeur and glamour -- the grubbier, the trendier. Still, this is a city with a tricky and terrible charm. It never lets you forget the brutal weight of a tragic history as one stumbles into a World War II bomb shelter or a concrete monstrosity from GDR times. It indulges escapism along tree-lined waterways and large parks and in cafes and galleries that sizzle with music and art. It offers endless possibilities in its collection of "villages" that make up Berlin and in the melting pot of cultures and languages which make it a true crossroads of the east and west. And it is a city that converses with you until you are forced to talk back. People may be tempted to feel sorry for Berliners -- after all, the city is broke and unemployment is high. But keep in mind the words of one famous German writer: Berlin may be a terrible place -- I pity those that never get the chance to live here.

It's at this time of year that Germans and tourists alike rediscover the joys of a uniquely German experience -- hanging out at pick-nick tables with friends and friendly strangers beneath the twinkling lights of a beer garden. The gardens come in all shapes and sizes. They may be nestled in a large park, or tucked away in a city courtyard. What they all have in common is that free-flowing beer -- and a good time -- is guaranteed. Despite the hustle and bustle and loud buzz of conversation, German beer gardens are pretty chilled-out places. The people who run them don't even care if you bring your own food, and just buy your beverages. While Munich's Oktoberfest is the most heady way to experience German beer garden culture, an even more rewarding experience can be had just by seeking out your local beer garden, settling in among the din with a cool glass of your preferred brew, and soaking up the atmosphere. Don't be shy about striking up a conversation with your fellow garden-dwellers, either. It may just be the beer talking, but here, Germans tend to drop the formal rules governing most social interaction and engage in jovial banter with those around them.

As befitting a nation with such a love of sausages, the evolution of the Dachshund into a bratwurst on legs is unsurprising. Literally translated as badger-dog, the Dachshund was developed by German breeders to get into holes and cause subterranean mammals as much strife as possible before forcing them out into the open where they would be humanely slaughtered. Unfortunately, looking like a delicious savoury snack is not the best tactic when facing rabid badgers and so the Dachshund rapidly evolved into a more peaceful role as a domestic pet. <br><br> Its origins can be traced to Ancient Egypt but the breed has prospered much better in Europe where scorching sand is very rarely in direct contact with low-slung delicate anatomical areas. <br><br> The Dachshund is a credit to Germany, combining the Teutonic determination to succeed with a nagging inferiority complex. It is described by many breeders as a lively and courageous dog but has a propensity for inexplicable tantrums and a hatred for weakness in itself and others. <br><br> Such is the dog's strong association with Germany that during World War I, Dachshunds were stoned to death in Britain and the United States. Happily the Dachshund is now back in favor and is a particular favorite with Stateside dog fanciers.

The Berlin Philharmonic is one of the world's leading orchestras and an icon of German culture. Currently led by British conductor Sir Simon Rattle, over the course of its 144 year history the orchestra was guest-conducted by such luminaries as Richard Strauss, Gustav Mahler, Johannes Brahms and Edvard Grieg. The Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, or BPO, started life as the Bilsesche Kapelle in 1862, but was reorganized and given its current name in 1882. Its reputation became established when the esteemed conductor Hans von Bülow joined on in 1887. From 1954 to 1989, the legendary Herbert von Karajan ruled the podium, developing the orchestra's trademark oceanic sound. Under von Karajan's successor, Claudio Abbado, the philharmonic opened up from its classical and romantic roots, adding modern classical music to its repertoire; in 2000 it went so far as to cut an album together with German heavy metal group The Scorpions called "Moment of Glory." When current conductor Sir Simon came on board, in 2002, he cut a deal that changed the orchestra's financial structure, granting it unprecedented stability and artistic freedom. Since then, Rattle has made a name for himself not only by further modernizing the repertoire and rejuvenating the orchestra (the median age of the musicians is now under 40), but above all for championing young performers and promoting classical music among youth.

Before there was "Baywatch," there was "Derrick." Played by bulging-eyed actor Horst Tappert, chief inspector Stephan Derrick and his trusty sidekick Harry Klein didn't exactly light up German screens, but they sure were a permanent presence. The country's most successful series ever aired every Friday night from 1974 to 1998, and was exported to over 100 countries including China, Japan, Norway, France and Italy. It was never easy to understand the appeal of the gruff inspector -- a man forever in his mid-50s who had little in common with US counterparts such as the likeable lieutenant Columbo. Chronically uncharismatic, Derrick was a notorious non-smoker, seldom drank -- despite living in Munich -- and rarely used his revolver. But even though he might not have been a sex symbol, his trademark beige trench coat, gold Rolex and 38 Smith & Wesson Special catapulted him into a permanent place in the nation's hearts. In April 2004, a animated version of "Derrick" hit cinema screens, featuring the original actors' voices and of course the famous catchphrase "Harry, get the car" -- which purists maintain was a line Derrick never actually uttered. A very German hero, Derrick was so beloved that the writers didn't dare kill him off, ending months of speculation in the last episode when they closed this memorable chapter of television history by promoting the chief inspector to Europol. To many, Friday nights have never been the same since.

The Romans called it <i>Rhenus</i>, the Germans call it <i>der Rhein</i>. At around 820 miles long, this moving treasure forms the background to famous landmarks like the Loreley and Drachenfels. It also lends romance, commerce, beauty and tourism to Mainz, Koblenz, Bonn, Cologne, Duesseldorf and other German cities. The River Rhine rises in the Swiss Alps and flows north through western Germany, emptying into the North Sea at Rotterdam after having carried more traffic in its current than any other waterway in the world. Coal, grain, timber and iron ore -- but also plenty of tourists -- are transported in its waters everyday.

In the "Land der Dichter und Denker" (land of poets and thinkers), Germans are proud of their cultural heritage consisting of poet, composer and philosopher greats like Goethe, Schiller, Beethoven, Nietzsche and Kant. But German Erfindergeist, or inventive talent, is known the world over and can be found everywhere in science, medicine, architecture and design, and of course, good old-fashioned German engineering. Johannes Gutenberg (shown here,) invented the printing press with moveable type and changed the world of communication. Philipp Reis made the telephone prototype. Nobel prize-winning innovators include Robert Koch (in 1905, for medicine) and Albert Einstein, who developed the theory of relativity and is likely considered the most famous scientist of all time. Gottlieb Daimler, Wilhelm Maybach and Karl Benz created the first gas-powered vehicles that ushered in the age of modern automobiles, not to mention Max Knott and Ernst Ruska, co-inventors of the electron microscope. Felix Hoffmann developed aspirin, Heinrich R. Hert discovered electromagnetic waves, Levi Strauss created the world's first blue jeans…the list goes on and on.

Shortly after arriving in Stuttgart to play for the local soccer team, Giovane Elber was asked whether he could name something that seemed a little odd about his new place of residence. The Brazilian didn't have to think long. "Cleaning week," he told reporters, referring to a system that obliges tenants to clean stairwells inside and pavements in front of their apartment buildings. Elber's probably not the only one startled by the country's obsession with cleanliness, but if you're into sparkling surfaces and tidy streets, Germany's the place to go. And in case of overexposure to the national mania, just head to Berlin for a healthy dose of dirt.

To her detractors, she is a cross between the dumpy, frumpy Ossi, or East German, and a predatory vixen, whose "Basic Instinct" à la Sharon Stone has left a trail of male, political corpses in her wake. Often compared to Iron Lady Margaret Thatcher for her resolve and conservative, pro-business agenda, she is not exactly a Teutonic version of the former prime minister, whose policies made Britain the pariah of the then European Community. Instead, Germany's first female chancellor is a facilitator, who has enhanced Germany's position in the EU and on the world stage, most recently by hosting the meeting of UN Security Council members over Iran's nuclear ambitions. Even critics say she has demonstrated diplomatic finesse in meetings with world leaders, leading to improved relations with the US in particular. On the domestic front, in spite of double digit unemployment and an unpopular proposal to increase the VAT from 16 percent to 19 percent next year, Germans somehow feel more bullish about their economic prospects under her leadership. As the Rolling Stones ballad goes, "Angie, Angie, ain't it good to be alive?"

Dresden's most famous landmark and a symbol of the suffering of German civilians after its destruction in World War II bombing, the Dresden Frauenkirche, or "Church of Our Lady," was originally built between 1726 and 1743. Designed by Dresden architect George Bähr, it's considered one of the most imposing architectural masterpieces of the Baroque period. The church's most distinctive feature is its 314-foot high stone bell which lent the city its distinctive silhouette. Damaged in the 1760s during the Seven Years' War, the church suffered its worst destruction during the Allied firebombing of 1945. It stood for decades after as an empty, decapitated shell. In 1990, a group of dedicated people began to collect funds to restore the church. In October 2005 the church, which boasts a new organ but uses a considerable amount of old dark-colored stones that were bombed to rubble, was officially consecrated after painstaking restoration work.

The millions of soccer enthusiasts who aren't fans of the Bavarian giants may not agree with us, but current Bundesliga title holders and champions-elect Bayern Munich are worthy of celebration as a German institution. Record league championship winners at home, Bayern are also Germany's one team of world renown and have done much to spread the reputation of German efficiency across the globe. They have brought glory to the country as European champions four times and have had past teams packed with such luminaries as Beckenbauer, Müller, Hoeness and Matthias. While Bayern are the German team many fans around the world love to love, at home they are the team which rival fans love to hate. Is it because of the arrogance, the trophies, the undoubted dominance? Probably. But mostly it's because their team is not Bayern Munich.

The French might have more cheeses than the number of days in a year, but when it comes to bread, Germany is king. Any local bakery worth its salt, stocks the gamut from rye, whole grain, whole wheat, sourdough, pumpernickel to plain white "toast Brot." Even the variety of seeds and adornments on a bread roll is mind-boggling -- poppy, caraway, sunflower, sesame, with or without salt, in shapes and sizes ranging from the "mini-Brötchen" to soft pretzels, called Bretzeln, and long loaf breads of various widths, which to the horror of the French, are always called Baguettes. French croissants are called Hörnchen, or little horns, for their crescent shape, and different regions of the country have different names for the same type of bread roll. The sourdough roll with salt crystals that Bavarians call Bretzelsemmel for instance, is known as Laugenbrötchen elsewhere. As for the special importance of bread in daily life, the evening meal, which is generally served cold, is called "Abendbrot," evening bread. Typically, supper in Germany consists of bread slices or rolls slathered with butter, a salami slice, a wedge of cheese and a radish, carbohydrates being the mainstay of the meal. Breakfast the next morning, is often a repeat of supper, with jam and coffee added. Germans can even enjoy freshly baked bread on Sundays. Along with petrol stations, florists in the vicinity of a hospital and the emergency chemist, bakeries are exempt from the Sunday blue laws. Except many bakeries are open only from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m., so if fresh bread is vital to your well-being, don't indulge in a long snooze on Sunday morning.

Germany is a nation crazy about soccer. Of course as the host of World Cup 2006, the country is outdoing itself in its love the "world's most beautiful game." From the official sponsor to the private fan, Germans worship the sport. You'd be hard pressed to find a German who can't chat about the recent ups and downs of the Bundesliga or rate the national eleven's chances for success. Wins and losses make headline news and the entire country rallies together for its team. If you feel left out of the spirit, grab one of the dozen soccer mags and start reading up, because there's no easier way of showing your love for Germany than through soccer.

What is it about a German supermodel? The country's most famous exports are Claudia Schiffer and Heidi Klum (pictured), so let's focus on them. They're both tall, leggy blondes with beaming smiles and big-time clients, book deals, film and TV appearances, but in the world of the supermodel, that's par for the course. The real reason that the fashion world loves a German supermodel is because these women have a reputation for being hard-working and most importantly, punctual. You won't hear Claudia or Heidi brag about refusing to get out of bed for less than $10,000 (or 8,000 euros, for that matter) a day. Simply put, they have the looks of a diva, without the attitude. But when asked in a recent interview about the secret behind German models' success, Ms.Klum had a different theory -- German cows. Luckily, she elaborated. "It's because of the happy German cows with the happy German milk, which happy children drink," said Klum. "So much happiness makes you beautiful!" Okay, but fantastic genes and a solid work ethic don't hurt, either.

Sharp tongues claim that Germans love their dogs more than they love their children. While this rumor may just be a bad stereotype, the fact that the German Shepherd is by far the most popular dog not only in the country but also worldwide is true. The first German Shepherd club was founded on April 22, 1899 by the cavalry captain Max von Stephanitz with his equally royally named dog Horand von Grafrath. Of course, there had been others before Horand. But from that day on, any Schäferhund who was anyone had to fulfill the strict racial characteristics and breeding rules laid down. Still today, every one of the two million registered German Shepherds has to meet these standards. But it isn't just about looks. There are also specific guidelines for this canine's character: even-tempered, confident, absolutely unbiased, with a strong sense of loyalty and obedience -- ideal traits for their use as guard, police and search dogs. But the emotional bond the dogs have to their owners also makes them great family pets, making it easy to have both children and a German Shepherd.

A living legend of the fashion scene, Karl Lagerfeld certainly knows how to be a model of elegant eccentricity. The Hamburg native became a household name in the 1980s when he set up his own label, Lagerfeld, launching successful clothing and perfume lines. But long before he became the revered figure famous for hiding behind sunglasses and a fan, Lagerfeld was toiling away at other design houses, intent on perfecting his craft. At age 14, Lagerfeld emigrated to his adopted city of Paris, and at the tender age of 17, after winning a design competition, he was awarded his first position at Pierre Balmain. He learned the art of haute couture under Jean Patou, but soon quit to work freelance for such houses as Krizia and Valentino. In the 70s, Lagerfeld became known for his work at Chloe, before eventually filling fashion's biggest shoes by becoming the director of Chanel. Proving that he's capable of moving with the times, Lagerfeld won scores of new, young fans by becoming the first designer to launch a low-budget, limited-time clothing line at mega-popular purveyor of high street fashion, H&M. Needless to say, in Germany, his designs sold out in a matter of hours.

If you ask any northern German what most characterizes his region of the country, you'll invariably hear one answer: the Wattenmeer, or the tideland that stretches along the whole German North Sea coast. This landscape is one-of-a-kind in the world and can be described with one word -- flat. The natural beauty when the tide is out draws millions of visitors each year -- visitors yearning for fresh sea air, along with the peace and freedom that extends as far as the eye can see. At low tide, you can walk on the sand for miles and you'll understand why environmentalists are determined to make sure nothing is developed there. The sand is vibrant, consisting of algae, worms, crabs, and shrimps. Over 250 kinds of plant can be solely found in the Wattenmeer. Migrating birds like geese and ducks are dependent on the north German coast for food on their long journeys. Symbolic for the tidelands is the black-and-white oyster catcher with his long red beak. If you need a break away from yodelling Bavarians at the Hofbräuhaus, then the Wattenmeer just may be your next vacation choice.

In search of the kind of quaint, pristine medieval city of the sort normally found only in fairytales? Then look no further than Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Germany's best preserved walled town. Situated along the Romantic Road -- a medieval trade route that now winds its way through Germany's picturesque heartland -- Rothenburg has become a tourist magnet, but at least it's one that doesn't disappoint. Photo opportunities await around every corner of Rothenburg's narrow, cobblestone streets. In order to make the most of those tourist dollars, Rothenburg's residents celebrate several grandiose festivals each year, dressing in elaborate historical costumes and bringing the Middle Ages to life with song, dance and ancient culinary treats. Speaking of food, a visit to Rothenburg just wouldn't be complete without sampling the local specialty -- balls of crisp pastry coated in sugar, chocolate, or cinnamon known as "snowballs." It's perhaps during the snowy season that Rothenburg is at its best. The town is famous for its year-round Christmas shops featuring hand-carved ornaments of dizzying variety. Of course, you can always try to get into the holiday spirit along with the hordes of other day-trippers in the summer heat. But if romance is the goal, aim to shop for these treasures when Rothenburg's red rooftops are dusted with snow and the smell of mulled wine and roast chestnuts beckons from the nearby outdoor Christmas market.

Germany is a country of fairytale castles, among them, Wartburg Castle in Eisenach, Thuringia. For anyone with an interest in feudal Europe, a trip to the castle is a must. Sitting majestically atop a hill, the castle was founded by Count Ludwig of Thuringia in 1067. Today, it retains some original sections from the feudal period, but the restoration work done on the castle in the 19th century gives a better picture of how it might have looked at the height of its importance. Steeped in history, one of the most famous events to have taken place within the fortress walls came as a result of temporary resident, Martin Luther. It was here that the exiled Protestant reformer translated the New Testament into German. Wartburg is now a UNESCO World Heritage site.

There is a saying in the English speaking world that everything is allowed, except what is forbidden. In France, everything is allowed, even what is forbidden. And in Germany -- well, everything is forbidden except what is allowed. Living under such daily restraints, where it is verboten to mow the lawn on Sundays or dump used batteries into the general refuse, it is hardly a wonder that the male psyche lets loose on the German Autobahn, where there are no speed limits on major sections of these pristine superhighways. If you happen to be cruising at the recommended speed limit of 130 kilometers (80 miles) an hour in the far left lane, watch out! An enraged German male in a spiffy sports car going at 200 kph might just tailgate you, flash his high beams at your offending vehicle and run you off the road. He won't dare pass you on the right. It's verboten, you see.

Car lovers in Germany can roughly be divided into two groups -- Mercedes Benz devotees, and those who swear allegiance to the Munich-based Bavarian Motor Works, or BMW. But how do the two groups differ? It's a highly personal matter, but generally, one could say that while Mercedes is the brand for those who value style and class, BMWs are true drivers' cars. Beemer owners are likely to wax on about how BMWs are faster, sportier, and require less maintenance than the competition. Whether or not that's true, there's no denying BMW's place in the annals of German automotive history, and the role it's played in boosting the image of German engineering abroad. And yet, in its very early stages, BMW wasn't even about cars -- rather, the company grew out of the aircraft engine manufacturer founded back in 1913 by Karl Friedrich Rapp. The company's round blue-and-white logo alludes to its origins by symbolizing a propeller. And as any true BMW fan knows, the colors refer to the company's home in Bavaria, with its blue-and-white checkered flag. Taking to one of Bavaria's pristine, speed-limit-free roads behind the wheel of a BMW is the ultimate driving experience for many a motoring enthusiast. But if that's an experience that has so far eluded you, you could try to mimic the exhilaration by downing the potent BMW-inspired cocktail -- a heady mixture of Bailey's, Malibu, and whisky.

"The loveliest of maidens, She's wonderful, sits there, Her golden jewels glisten, She combs her golden hair." Loreley (Lorelei) means "lookout rock" in ancient German and is actually a rock which lies on the Rhine near St. Goarshausen 120 meters above the water. Marking the narrowest part of the river, the currents and rocks below the water have caused many boat accidents in past centuries. As one ancient legend goes, the Nibelung treasure is buried under the rock. Another involves Holda, queen of the elves, who sits on the rock combing her hair -- the man who sees her loses his mind. But as immortalized by Heinrich Heine's poem, Loreley is an ancient legend about a fair maiden who threw herself into the Rhine over a unfaithful lover and became a ghost whose singing lured sailors to their death. "She combs it with a comb of gold, And sings a song as well: Its strangeness too is old, And casts a powerful spell." Loreley has been the subject of countless artistic works from the likes of composer Liszt or painter Oskar Kokoschka. And she has lured visitors, willing and unwilling, for centuries. "I don't know what it could mean, that I'm so sad: I find, A fairy-tale, from times unseen, Won't vanish from my mind."

Think Germany, think bratwurst? Wrong. Well, at least in Berlin and other ethnically-diverse German cities where you're more likely to stumble upon the pungent döner kebab rather than mustard-slathered sausages. Döner comes from the Turkish word “döndurmek” which roughly means “it spins,” in reference to the spinning vertical spits that the kebab meat is on. The Germanized version of the döner is said to have been invented by enterprising Turkish immigrants in Berlin's Kreuzberg neighborhood in the 1970s. The piece of grilled meat -- lamb, beef or chicken -- combined with shredded cabbage, onion and a hot yoghurt or garlic dressing in a lightly toasted bread pocket is an all-time favorite and not just that of drunken revelers on their way home on Sunday morning. Though admittedly, the numerous greasy döner shops are usually the only eating joints in Germany open until the early hours. In a measure of its popularity, statistics show that Germans consume 200 to 300 metric tons of döner kebab every day, far more than hamburgers or sausages. The döner has been the subject of odes, poems, songs and books and Berlin's infamous "Kottbusser Tor" landmark in the Kreuzberg district is sometimes also called the "Döner Tor," or döner gate, in a reference to the various kebab joints in the area. The only problem with döner? The onion, garlic and grease within the sandwich can emit quite an overpowering odor as anyone who's ever had a fellow traveler in the subway munching on a döner kebab will confirm.

One of Berlin's most-visited and symbolic landmarks, the Reichstag -- the building housing Germany's parliament, the Bundestag -- has undergone several incarnations. Built in 1894 and topped by a striking steel and glass cupola, the Reichstag was the original parliament of the German Empire and was the seat of the German parliament during the Weimar Republic (1919-1933). It was however rejected by the Nazis and mysteriously destroyed in a fire. It suffered further damage during WWII air raids. There was no real use for it during the Cold War, when the West German capital moved to Bonn from Berlin. But after German reunification in 1990, the Reichstag -- situated immediately to the west of the Wall -- moved out of the shadows to take center stage once again. Just before it was reconstructed by renowned British architect Norman Foster in, the building was spectacularly swaddled in white by Christo. Today, in a nod to its original 1894 cupola, Foster has created a huge glass cupola on the roof of the building which affords an impressive view of Berlin. During the day, natural light from above radiates down on to the parliament floor in an effort to create a sense of openness and transparency about Germany's democracy.

Well, we don't know what the weather's like in your neck of the woods right now, but with temperatures around 31 degrees Celsius (88 degrees Fahrenheit) in World Cup country, few Germans are probably thinking about a hearty roast with gravy right now. Still, the dish is the archetypical Teutonic meal: a large chunk of beef, pork or lamb that gets stuck in the oven (or atop a fire, in case you're going for a whole pig or ox) for hours until it's cooked to juicy perfection. (The watermelon decoration on the picture is highly avantgarde and completely optional, by the way.) German cooks apparently also love it, as it requires little work once the meat's been prepared for cooking, leaving people time to look after side dishes, appetizers and desserts. Desserts? Ice cream? We'd go miles for one right now, but unfortunately gelato's not really among Germany's best...

From airplanes to bridges and pharmaceuticals to space ships -- all kinds of fascinating technological developments can be experienced at the Deutsches Museum in Munich. Also a center for research and education, the museum was founded in 1903 by engineer Oskar von Miller under the name "German Museum for Masterworks in Engineering and Technology." Temporary exhibits on Bavaria's path to modernism, nanotechnology, innovation in soccer and a historical glider are currently being featured. Located on and island in Munich's Isar river, the museum is open daily from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Compared to Cannes in May or Venice in September, Berlin in February might not be an obvious draw for Hollywood glitterati, but the capital's annual Film Festival has nonetheless carved a niche for itself on the movie world's busy social calendar. So long as they remember to pack a warm sweater along with their Versace, the A-list stars are happy to head to Germany to promote their latest work and Germany is more than happy to have them -- not least because the event provides some welcome light relief during the endless Berlin winter. In recent years, the "Berlinale" has managed to come out of the shadows of its more glamorous rivals in the sunnier corners of Europe, to reliably attract cinema's top movers and shakers. And that's not least thanks to the efforts of Dieter Kosslick, who successfully delivered on his vow to vamp up the festival after taking over as festival director in 2001. While his critics complain that he's so busy schmoozing with the likes of Nicole Kidman and George Clooney he neglects homegrown films, his supporters say he's sticking to the original concept of the festival which began in 1951 as an attempt to re-imbue Berlin with some of the showbiz razzle dazzle that characterized the roaring '20s. Inside conflicts aside, everyone agrees that the Berlinale is a grown-up alternative to the sunshine and starlets of the Cannes festival, and one of the film industry's most prestigious annual events.

German conductor Christian Thielemann, born on April 1, 1959 in Berlin, began his career at 19 working two jobs -- as a répétiteur, coaching singers at the Deutsche Oper, and as assistant to conductor Herbert von Karajan. Thielemann returned to his hometown in 1997, when he accepted the position as general musical director of the Deutsche Oper. In 2004, he left Berlin to become the general musical director of the Munich Philharmonic. Thielemann is no foreigner to the world's most important opera houses -- he has conducted at the Vienna Staatsoper, London's Royal Opera House and the New York Met, to name a few. He is also regularly invited to conduct famous symphony orchestras around the world. This year, Thielemann will take up his baton to conduct the entire Ring Cycle at the Richard Wagner Festival in Bayreuth.

Germans might have a tendency to save their pennies for a rainy day instead of splurging on luxury items (much to the chagrin of retailers), but when it comes to giving to those in need, Germans are usually ready to open their wallets. A study by the German Donation Council found that between July 2004 and the end of June 2005 Germans donated some 2.6 billion euros ($3.32 billion). In the study's time period, nearly one in four Germans made a charitable donation, the average gift being 33 euros ($42). The lion's share of that money, around 85 percent, went to humanitarian causes. The rest went to areas such as culture, monument conservation, the environment and animal protection. But besides reaching into their pockets, many Germans are willing to donate their time to a good end. The above-mentioned study found that one in two Germans were ready to put their noses to the grindstone free of charge.

Brass music is serious business in Germany, particularly in the southern states of Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg. Folk brass ensembles, the culprits behind the oompa-band stereotype, can be heard in beer gardens and festivals (including Oktoberfest, of course). Not only do they carry on the long tradition of German folk music, they keep the old fashion aspect alive: musicians often don traditional costumes, called a <i>tracht</i>. Another essential part of Germany's brass music scene is the symphonic orchestra. The Bundeswehr, Germany's army, has 21 such orchestras that perform everything from Beethoven to Queen. In addition, nearly every city has its own amateur orchestra, where brass, woodwind and percussion players can hone their musical skills in their spare time.

It's an unwritten law of nature. Whether you're stuck on the plane in economy class, trapped in the office for an extra five hours of overtime or confined to basically any cramped or crowded quarters, your taste in music is guaranteed to be the polar opposite of the person's sitting next to you. <br><br> So plug your headphones into an MP3 player and offer up thanks Germany's Fraunhofer Institute. It may not have composed whatever you use to drown out your neighbor's questionable taste, but it did invent the MP3 file format that lets anyone slip shelves of music into their back pocket and never have to flip a tape ever again. <br><br> Digital audio had existed for years before the MP3 came around, but listening to it required spending a small fortune on bulky hard drives to store the sound data. Then in 1992, a team of Fraunhofer scientists came up with a standardized means of shrinking the audio files by 10 to 12 times by cutting out tones inaudible to the human ear. Music became portable and tiny earphones made people deaf to the world around them. <br><br> But don't try to blame the Fraunhofer Institute for the illegal music exchanges that sprung up when the size of song files went down, the researchers aimed to develop a method to improve audio and video conferencing when they invented the format. <br><br> Though they were also effective on that front, Apple's iPod and other portable music players are what pop into most people's minds when someone says "MP3," and with good reason -- some industry experts predict there will be 286 million MP3 players stuffed into pockets and desk drawers by 2010.

A symbol of the German division before the Wall fell and since then a metaphor for German unity -- Berlin's Brandenburg Gate is one of the most politically-charged pieces of architecture in the country. A gate has existed on the site since 1658, which was then part of the city wall and would become part of the Berlin wall more than 300 years later. At the end of the 18th century, Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm II commissioned architect Carl Gotthard Langhans, a master of early Classical design, to draw up a structure worthy of finishing off the row of architectural feats lining Unter den Linden. Johannes Gottfriend Schadow's sculpture of the winged god of peace Eirene was added above the gate in 1793, two years after its completion. Eirene watched as the gate became a place for parades and demonstrations. Napoleon's troops marched through the gate, Prussians troops celebrated their victories there, Hitler sent the SA through the gate when he came to power in 1933. In 1945, the Brandenburg Gate become the border between the British and Soviet sectors. "Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate!" demanded US President Reagan as he stood before it in 1987. Since the euro was introduced in 2002, the Brandenburg Gate, now a symbol of German unity, can be found on the backside of the German 10-, 20- and 50-cent coins. The Brandenburg Gate concludes our picture gallery of 100 reasons to love Germany.