You never sausage a place*

The kind souls at Deutsche Bahn have sprung for free train trips for us media leeches, so this morning I left Hamburg and took a four-hour ride to Cologne (Koln), located along the Rhine.

Not having done anything touristy so far, I arrived eight hours before game time so I could take in the sights. The first sight is the most impressive -- the gigantic Cologne Cathedral (Kolner Dom). It's a house of worship that even Mormons would find a bit ostentatious. I keed, Governor, I keed.

Anyway, most of the tourists inside the cathedral were wearing soccer gear -- primarily Portuguese and Angolans, along with Turks, Trinidadians, Brazilians, Japanese and more than a few Americans (The U.S. plays an hour away in Gelsenkirchen tomorrow.). It was a rather odd sight at first, but it soon dawned on me that this was the natural union of two of the world's great religions. As if to reinforce that theory, the city organizers are staging the "FanFest" (an outdoor match-viewing/booze-chugging party) at the base of the hallowed cathedral.

(I have plenty of pictures, but forgot the USB cord at home. Maybe tomorrow I'll find one in Gelsenkirchen.)

After touring the Kolner Dom, I followed the Lonely Planet guidebook's advice and went to Fruh am Dom, a beer hall, for lunch. The local specialty is called Kolsch, sort of like a summer ale, but without the excessively citrus taste. It's served in tiny (0.2 liter) glasses that resemble XXL test tubes. But it's not a ripoff; a test tube of Kolsch costs less (1.50 EUR) than a test tube of Coke (2.00). And the waiters carry the tubes 10 at a time in containers that look like the ones bingo addicts keep their lucky markers in.

I finally gave into temptation and sampled the bratwurst, which came with fantastic fried potatoes and a cole-slaw type salad that also earned high marks. Given that this was my first square meal of the trip, it's not surprising that I was pretty pumped about the whole thing.

Four hours and 20 minutes before kickoff, a group of about 12 Portuguese fans were singing over beers at a cafe. They launched into the national anthem, and all of a sudden, those 12 became about 50, belting out the words and filling the streets with a proud, mighty sound. It was a chill-down-your-back kind of moment, and I expect plenty more of them in the stadium tonight.

Finally, today's adventure was made possible by a wonderful invention in the train station. You give the machine 4 euros, a door opens, you put your suitcase in it, the door closes, a receipt spits out, and you go on your merry way, free of the burden of lugging a giant duffle bag all over the place.

After seeing the town, you return to the station, insert the receipt into the machine, and the bag appears magically behind the door, seconds later. And since I got my bag when I wanted it, one can safely assume that American Airlines didn't design said machine.

*--apologies to Pedro from the South of the Border billboards