Husband and I learned early on that we travel well together. This has turned out to be a real God send. About once a year, Husband and I like to visit another country for a dose of different culture and country appreciation (both the U.S.’s when we return and the visiting country’s). And, being able to travel well — internationally — has turned out to be a terrific short cut for learning all kinds of things about one another. Also, marrying later in life usually means you and your spouse have been to places before, which now you can share with each other.

(It also means for the first time, unlike friends, you have someone who is legally bound to go home with you even after you have a hissy fit in JFK over yet another delay.) But, back to the good stuff.

Thanks to frequent flier miles; the fact I have a sister who actually lives outside of Munich, Germany; and my complete and utter desperation that Husband and I actually take a vacation together this year, we headed to Europe last week. And, it was there that I learned something really, really important. I discovered how to get Husband to take over some meals. But, it would involve a move to Germany.

Husband used to live there.  So, he speaks the language and knows some really cool places. Plus, since I’ve known him, he has waxed poetic about the early morning brötchen (German hard rolls). Add to the fact it would be Oktoberfest, and you could say a trip to Munich wasn’t a hard sell. How could we not visit? (We also snuck off to Barcelona for two days, because, really, we didn’t get enough to eat and drink in Germany.)

But, let’s talk about Husband and food.

When we were at my sister’s place in Paunzhausen (a village 20 minutes outside of Munich), Husband announced, he would handle breakfast. He got up every single day at 6 a.m. and headed to the bakery to get freshly-baked brötchen. This was entirely his idea. Then, when I woke up (much, much later), he made sure he saved me at least one (and often more) brötchen and created a nice spread of condiments for me. Ham, various wursts, sausages, marmalades and jellies, and about six different cheeses. Oh, and Nutella. Nutella is what many of the European kids eat in place of jelly – it’s basically hazelnut chocolate spread. You can get it in the U.S. now, but not when I was a kid. (Had I known about Nutella at age six, I do believe my parents would have put me up for adoption from all the begging I would have done to move to Europe.)

Husband got many points for his breakfast offerings.

Whenwe weren’t eating, we were drinking beer. This was a good thing because it helped us get ready for the real, original Oktoberfest (which, by the way, is usually in September and is in Munich). Nobody does beer like the Germans. And, nobody drinks as much beer as Germans celebrating Oktoberfest. It is like a giant, beautiful, controlled frat party.

My sister treated us to advance tickets (Thanks, Sister!), which you must do  if you are ever going to Oktoberfest. A ticket is your entry into a tent, which is where the real action resides. Our tent – one of about five available — was called the Hippodrom. Do not let the outside fool you. Take a look:

A thousand seats before hundreds of long tables are crammed inside this giant tent. Decorated to the hilt, with a band playing all kinds of eclectic songs, for three hours we swayed and clinked our (liter!) beer mugs with anyone we caught eyes with. I must have sang Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be at least six times. (Which is hysterical because Germany is not exactly what I call a “whatever will be” kind of place.)

And, again, with the food, Husband made sure I had plenty of pretzel slathered with some-kind-of-spread in between beers. Each table was laid out with a mini-buffet of radishes, ham, spreads, cucumbers and other goodies. Oh, and gigantic freshly-baked pretzels! (I had two.) The fact Oktoberfest has a higher alcohol content and it is only served in liter sized mugs may have spurred him on to force food upon me. But, I appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. So, we didn’t get too schnockered.

I also learned at this event that Husband can be quite communicative. It just takes several beers at Oktoberfest.

Later during our stay, my brother-in-law lent us his convertible sports car one day so we could go castle-cathedral-cute-town hopping throughout Bavaria. (Thanks, A!)

We first zipped to Ober Ammergau (German spelling here) where I got to browse Christmas shops and Husband got to browse amazing wood carvings of everything, all from one piece of wood.

Then, it was off to Wieskirche, a church whose outside belies its inside (Louis the XIV had nothing on this decorator).

Finally, we visited Schloss Linderhof. (Just click. I can’t even begin to explain this mini-version of Versailles. But, I will never be accused again of going over the top when decorating after seeing this place.)

An evening stop at Starnberger See (see = lake in German) to a restaurant on the water completed our day. We both had fish. Husband’s fish still had its head on. Ewww. But, again, he made sure I was well fed.

So, why the travelogue? Well, as an LBB, we want to learn as much as possible about our guys, as quickly as possible. We have catching up to do. So, I encourage anyone who is an LBB or wishing to become an LBB, to go overseas with their guy. You will learn all kinds of things.

For instance, I didn’t realize that fish-with-their-heads doesn’t bother husband. But, when it bothers me, he covers it up with the rice so I won’t accidentally see it. I also didn’t know breakfast could be such a bonding experience. And, I certainly had no idea for his proclivity for maps until we entered a country where the maps actually matched the street signs. Oh, and his love for the autobahn. This I suspected. But, until you actually find yourself in this jet-stream-for-humans, you just don’t know how much testosterone can exist in one human being.

Watch for Monday’s post about how to use international travel as a guide to your guy. It’s quite amazing.

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