Childhood memory from Munich: We’re sitting at a table eating breakfast when a patrol car parks right outside and two police officers exit (you know how they look in their Bavarian uniforms, boots, belts and all), they’re both in the prime of their lives, tall and strong, walk straight up to the counter and say nothing more than a good morning before a breakfast spread magically appears on the counter before them, with two Maßkrug of beer. The police officers devour the breakfast and down the beers faster than I can breathe, before they say a simple thanks and go out to their car and drive away. No visible payment. My little brother and I just looked at each other, both knowing that we had just seen something one doesn’t see every day.