I took German in high school for the following reasons:

1. When it came to meeting my foreign language requirement, my school offered two choices: German or Spanish. I’m pretty good at hocking loogs but I can’t roll an r to save my soul.
2. I wanted to understand what the Amish were saying about me in front of my back and German was as close to Pennsylvania Dutch as I could get.
3. I enjoy the Chicken Dance.
4. Herr Miller was the bomb.

Typically, I can spot a German from a mile away. Call it a sixth sense (or stereotyping or whatever). Germans wear whatever the hell they want. They do whatever the hell they want. And they say, pretty bluntly, whatever the hell they want. I admire that.

For instance, while I might struggle with wearing socks and sandals – Germans rock the look.

Rock on. (land-der-ideen.de)

Though I might second guess a haircut like this:

German heartthrob Bill Kaulitz.  (coolmenshair.com)

A German wears it like a badge of honor.

They are bold.

Not my favorite Olympic look, but kudos for putting it out there. I mean, c’mon, our sweaters weren’t much better. (AP Photo/Petr David Josek)

They can drink.

Prost, meine freunde! (dmarge.com)

And they must have a sense of humor.

I’ve got nothing. Maybe peed my pants a little… (AP Photo/Markus Schreiber)

One of my favorite experiences with the German culture happened on a small lake beach in Italy. It was just full enough with locals that we could almost reach our neighbors. However, we had a little space where I was. I think it was just me and my friend, and maybe another couple copping a squat down the way. Three Germans walked up with their beach bags and backpacks. I knew they were German instantly. Though they may not have been donning their lederhosen and dirndls, they had the look. The look I’d come to denote as purely German that summer.

I’d been in Italy for a month by this point so I’d come across many Europeans of all shapes, sizes, styles, and ornamentation. I got pretty good at guessing from which country someone hailed. The clothes, bags, shoes, and strut were their dead giveaways.

They set up camp, threw off their clothes and headed to the water. They threw off all of their clothes. I knew it was Europe and I’m no prude, but the thing is – we weren’t on a nude beach. In fact, my friend said it was actually illegal to be nude where we were.

So we watched in awe as the Germans represented their people to a T. Bold non-conformists that wouldn’t give two cents for anyone’s thoughts. Their skinny pasty naked bodies splashed around in the lake for a bit, then they hopped back out and took a seat on the sand. That’s when each of them cracked open their edition of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

It takes courage to get naked and read Harry Potter on an intimate beach with total strangers. So here is my attaboy to the folks who beat to their own drum with a special nod to a culture that bangs their drums all day.

What country would you give a shout out to for going against the grain?

The village looks like something out of Heidi. Well, an American touristy version of what Heidi’s village should look.

Oh, Heidi! WIR LIEBEN DICH!

German inspired, tourism with a capital T. But the cheese is what makes it so great!

A rough Hansel and Gretel getting their beer on.

My partner lost his head over all the German kitsch.

Other than grabbing some schnitzel, potato salad, and a funnel cake, my sisters and I had plans to go tubing down the Chattahoochee.

Since it was the end of May, we  knew the water was going to be pretty chilly. But we were going for it anyway, though there was one tiny little issue – the water level was SO low.

That said, we started on the outskirts of town and got going pretty easily. And yes it was cold. If you’ve never been, you have to try tubing at least once in your life. Sitting back, catching some rays, being carried by the rushing water … it’s one of the best experiences you can have. A group in front of us had the stellar idea to rent an extra tube just to hold their beer cooler as they rode down the river. I did say Redneck, right? Redneck and brilliant.

It was a lot of fun. We were one with nature, way better than those lazy rivers at some Floridian resort…till things got rocky. Like literally rocky.  Remember how I said the water was SO low? Well, as we approached the area where the river runs through the town, we began to slow to a crawl  because the water was getting so shallow. Then the river became a trickle and finally not even a trickle at all. We were stuck.

Best part? We were right in the middle of the downtown area near one of the bridges trapped like deer in headlights.  All of the tourists eating their lunches and passing by could just sit or stand and stare as if we were the latest Deutsch town attraction on display for their viewing pleasure.

We smiled awkwardly. We likely waved, but I remember feeling very exposed as we struggled with what to do. We saw that the groups of tubers near us had sticks and were able to work their way through the rocky water-free zone to freedom. So of course we stepped out of our tubes to grab sticks, too. Any sticks at this point since the entire community was watching and laughing at us lovely ladies trying to backwoods engineer our way out of dry land and onto what should have been a gushing body of water that would carry us along our merry way.

We worked it out somehow. We eventually finagled our way out of the dry depths of the rocky river bed and back to the charging Chattahoochee of our dreams. A cheeseball tourist town + a terribly rough ride = a time I would totally repeat.

Have you ridden down the Chattahoochee? Any great tubing stories? Share them below!