When Visiting Germany for the First Time: A Journey Through History, Hospitality, and Hearty Food

By Dirk Ebener

Travelers still remember the moment when they first stepped off the plane at Frankfurt International Airport. The air felt cool, fresh, and electric, like the beginning of a grand adventure. Germany had long captured their imagination. Many of them grew up hearing tales about castles nestled in forests, cities divided and then reunited, and beer halls that echoed with laughter and clinking steins. But nothing compared to experiencing it for themselves.

That first trip marked the start of a deep connection with the country. I had planned it with care—pouring over maps and choosing the perfect blend of cities and countryside to explore over two weeks. It was spring, mid-May to be exact, and the country was waking up from winter. Cherry blossoms painted the parks of Frankfurt in soft pinks and whites, the sun lingered longer in the sky, and café tables spilled out onto sidewalks. In hindsight, it was the perfect time to visit—neither too cold nor too hot, and pleasantly free from the thick summer crowds.

Ten days would never have been enough. I stretched my trip to two full weeks, allowing time to immerse myself in each place rather than rushing through. Germany’s diversity continued to amaze me. Each region told a different story, offered different flavors, and spoke in slightly different dialects. I quickly learned that Germany wasn’t one cohesive experience. It was a collection of distinct cultural pieces woven into a tightly knit whole.

I began my journey in Berlin, the dynamic capital that pulses with energy and carries the weight of history in every street. Here, graffiti isn’t just street art—it’s a political statement. I spent my days wandering through the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag building, and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. I paused at the Berlin Wall’s East Side Gallery, where colorful murals transformed remnants of Cold War division into bold statements of unity and hope. My hotel, the 25hours Hotel Bikini Berlin, matched the city’s vibe—urban, artistic, and unapologetically unique. In the mornings, I enjoyed a coffee in their rooftop café while watching the monkeys roam in the zoo below, the city stretching out in every direction.

From Berlin, I boarded one of Germany’s high-speed ICE trains, which is refreshingly clean, punctual, and smooth, and headed south to Munich. The journey took just four hours and gave me a comfortable view of changing landscapes, from urban sprawl to alpine foothills. Munich couldn’t have been more different from Berlin. It wore its Bavarian heritage with pride, from the baroque architecture of the Residenz to the traditional dress I saw in local beer halls. At the Hofbräuhaus, I joined a communal table with travelers and locals alike, lifting a Maß of golden Hefeweizen and tucking into a crispy pork knuckle with crackling skin.

I stayed at Hotel Torbräu, a historic and welcoming hotel just a stone’s throw from Marienplatz, where the Glockenspiel rang out above the crowds each morning. Munich felt like a city that treasured its traditions without being trapped by them. I took a day trip to Neuschwanstein Castle, the fairytale structure perched on a hill near Füssen, and walked through the mountain trails surrounding it, half expecting a dragon to appear from the mist.

Eager to step back even further in time, I made my way to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, a medieval town in northern Bavaria that feels like a dream preserved in stone and timber. The city walls still encircle the town, and I spent a day walking their perimeter, gazing down on red rooftops and flower-lined cobblestone alleys. At night, I joined the famous Night Watchman’s Tour, a humorous and haunting walk through the darker corners of the town’s history. My room at Hotel Eisenhut was charming and full of old-world character, with creaky floors and windows that opened out to tiled rooftops and gothic spires. In the morning, I strolled to the bakery for a Schneeball, a sweet and crumbly local pastry that’s been made the same way for generations.

Next, I traveled west to Heidelberg, drawn by its literary reputation and romantic charm. The old town sits along the Neckar River, watched over by the ruins of Heidelberg Castle. I wandered through the university quarter, browsed bookshops, and crossed the Old Bridge, imagining the poets and scholars who had done the same over the centuries. One evening, I climbed the Philosopher’s Walk and was rewarded with a view that made me pause. Heidelberg bathed in golden light, the river shimmering below, and the scent of spring in the air. My stay at the elegant Hotel Villa Marstall added to the magic, its stone walls and vaulted ceilings providing a cozy refuge after days filled with exploration.

For my final leg, I chose Cologne, a city I hadn’t initially planned to visit but one that completely surprised me. Towering above everything was the Cologne Cathedral, dark and majestic, its twin spires piercing the skyline. Inside, the air was cool and solemn, shafts of colored light pouring in through stained-glass windows. I walked along the Rhine, sampled Kölsch beer in tall glasses, and even caught part of a street parade—Carnival season was nearing, and the festive energy was contagious. My hotel, Stern am Rathaus, offered boutique comfort just steps from the cathedral. Cologne had a laid-back friendliness that instantly made me feel welcome.

Each of these cities offered its own unique rhythm and soul, but what tied them together was the efficiency and ease of getting around. Germany’s train system made travel a pleasure, not a chore. The ICE trains, in particular, were a highlight—so quiet and fast that I often arrived at my destination before I was ready to stop reading or writing in my travel journal. The DB Navigator app made it easy to plan connections and navigate stations, and I was amazed at how seamlessly everything worked. Even smaller regional trains ran reliably, linking me to towns I would only read about days before.

As I ventured from region to region, I found myself falling for German cuisine in a way I hadn’t expected. Beyond the sausages and pretzels I knew, there was Sauerbraten with red cabbage and dumplings, delicate white asparagus in spring, and Käsespätzle, gooey, cheesy noodles topped with crispy onions. I indulged in Black Forest Cake in cafés with carved wooden interiors, sipped Riesling along the banks of the Mosel, and tried regional specialties in each town. Every meal felt rooted in the landscape and history of the place.

Alongside the meals came the lessons and cultural details that made Germany feel so wonderfully distinct. I quickly learned that punctuality wasn’t just appreciated, it was expected. If a train was set to leave at 10:42, it did, and so should I. Quiet hours were respected. Sundays were for rest, reflection, and long walks rather than shopping. I also noticed how deeply embedded environmental responsibility was. Recycling bins were color-coded and ubiquitous, and I was gently corrected once for placing a bottle in the wrong slot.

I discovered that formality still plays a role in social interactions. Using proper titles, “Herr” and “Frau”, was appreciated, as was a firm handshake. People were generally more reserved at first, but once I engaged in German, I was rewarded with smiles, helpfulness, and even a few impromptu history lessons from proud locals. The famed German directness wasn’t coldness, it was clarity, and I came to appreciate it.

And then there were the small joys. Stopping at a bakery for a morning Brezel. Sitting by a river with a book and a local beer. Watching a festival unfold in a town square. Hearing church bells mark the hour in a village where time felt like it moved a little slower.

Looking back, that first visit to Germany was more than a trip. It was an awakening to the beauty of travel done at the right pace, with curiosity and respect. Germany invited me into its stories, old and new, and rewarded me with experiences that I still cherish today. I learned not only about another country but about myself as a traveler.

So when is the best time to go? Late spring or early fall, when the weather is mild, and the world feels fresh. How long should you stay? As long as you can, at least two weeks to truly let the rhythm of the country seep in. Where should you go? Let your interests guide you, but Berlin, Munich, Rothenburg, Heidelberg, and Cologne form a perfect tapestry of Germany’s many faces. And what should you bring? A sense of wonder, a flexible itinerary, and an appetite, for history, conversation, and second helpings.

Germany, on that first trip, welcomed me with open arms. And I know it will welcome you, too.

Dirk Ebener is the founder and creator behind the Food Blogger Journey website, drawing on over 40 years of international travel across more than 60 countries. His global adventures have deepened his understanding of regional cuisines, local customs, and the powerful connection between food and culture. From bustling street markets in Asia to quiet vineyard dinners in Europe, Dirk captures authentic culinary experiences through immersive storytelling. Through Food Blogger Journey, he invites readers to explore the world one dish at a time.

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