TE17 Mysterious Montenegro

Jean Teulé

Hair styled in a way similar to a bowler hat so small that it’s attached by two braids tied together under the chin, he presses a delicate lace handkerchief to his forward as if he caught the local fever. He, however, is sweating because of the heatwave. He carries a pewter stein filled with beer, putting it to his lips below his thick, comic mustache whose pointed ends rise or fall depending on his mood. After his whiskers are spotted with white foam and calmed down a bit: “Well, the hops are going bad and thewater smells likemud, but at least it hydrates.” Now, they wake up and, like wings, take flight as theAmmeister begins todaydreamunder the adulterated influence of the alcohol: “I recall a marvelous city, free and safe, that the world envied and named Schlàràffelànd (the land of celebration). This pearl of the Republic set in the Holy Roman Empire that nature truly favored abundantly minted its own golden florins. Under this temperate climate, our fields surrounding the citywalls generously provided us with all of its produce. Our city was also known as the wine cellar, the wheat silo, and the pantry for surrounding towns. Every one of our market stalls overflowed with delicious fruits, game, fowl. Peddlers walked along them holding picturesque and joyous engraved images of Strasbourg above them at arm’s length. We had the best fish market of the Holy Empire because a calm river provided us with all sorts of freshwater species and even some adventurous ones borrowed from the North Sea.” “On that note, Ammeister,” intervenes a second municipal deputy, sorry to ruin the mood, “we noticed that the torrents of mud coming from the massive flooding of the Rhine at the end of May damaged the defense tower at the Port of Saverne when 120