Erfurt 20 Sep
Rothenburg ob der Tauber to Erfurt 153 mile
After a leisurely breakfast, followed by refuelling and stocking up on water for the journey ahead, I set off on a damp morning along the A7. Just a few miles into the ride, I encountered a long, slow, and winding detour that added at least an hour and a half to my journey, delaying my arrival in Erfurt.
Once I managed to rejoin the main route, I headed towards Würzburg, passing countless medieval towns and villages along the way. Riding through the town of Coburg, a noticeable shift in the landscape became evident. Coburg is a small medieval town situated on the Itz River in the Upper Franconia region of Bavaria, Germany.
North of Coburg, the journey brought me into what was once East Germany, where the differences between the regions became apparent. West German housing tends to be more modern and better maintained, whereas East German homes often show their age. Similarly, the farming equipment in the east is noticeably older compared to what is typically seen in the west.
The rain was relentless throughout the ride, and by the time I arrived at the Prizeotel Hotel in Erfurt, I was thoroughly soaked
Dinner was at Estima by Catalan, a restaurant owned and managed by an overbearing German chef who seemed determined to narrate the story of each dish in excruciating detail. This included explaining where he sourced his ingredients and sharing his preferences for different regions of Spain. Throughout the evening, he also unfolded his life story, recounting his early days as a chef in Paris and his subsequent travels, a monologue that quickly grew tiresome.
After just a few courses, we felt compelled to intervene as our rather expensive meals were cooling down before we even had the chance to enjoy them. While it was admirable to see such passion from the chef, there comes a point when guests simply want to savour the meal without interruptions.
The experience took an even more awkward turn when my friend requested a second glass of wine. The chef seemed visibly displeased, muttering under his breath about how uncommon it was for someone to have a second glass. Though he begrudgingly complied, his passive aggressive commentary implying that, as paying guests, we could drink what we wanted was both unprofessional and off-putting.
In conclusion, the evening turned out to be an overpriced ordeal. At €428 and nearly four hours to complete the meal, I left feeling drained rather than delighted.