I wonder how many countries don’t have a national drink.
Romania – Tuica
Serbia – Rakija (Plum or Pear Brandy)
Brazil – Cachaca
Malta – Kinne (a bit like Dr Pepper\Coke)
El Salvador – Chapparo
Nicaragua – Pinolillo (Made with corn and Chocolate)
Guatemala – Atole De Elote (Corn Drink)
Austrailia – VB Beer
Singapore – Singapore Sling (Cocktail from Raffles Hotel)
Malaysia – Tea (From Cameroon Highlands)
Fiji – Cava
Germany – Beer
Austria – Stroh (Rum)
Greece – Ouzo
Mexico – Tequila
England – Tea
Scotland – Whiskey
Argentina – Mate
Peru – Pisco
Czech Republic – Absinth
Tenerife – Peach Schnapps
Spain – Sangria
France – Champagne
Ireland – Guinness
USA – Jack Daniels and Coca Cola
Russia – Vodka
Japan – Sake or maybe Green Tea
I wonder some more about how many countries have a nice tasting national drink.
Hungary does have a national drink and it tastes like someone short changed the fruit cordial in a bottle of paint stripper. To make matters worse it gives you the look where you balance your tongue on your bottom lip and screw your eyes up at the same time. I tried Palinka once in Budapest and vowed not to go near it again.
This Sunday morning at 8am the husband of the woman who had opened her motel especially for me turned up on his way to church with the family in his car, completely drunk. I was clearly interesting in my cycling shorts in the pouring and freezing rain to Ivan and we strike up a conversation using only our bare hands, grunts and the few bits of German which I have picked up.
Before long he is dragging me by my hand into the basement where to my surprise there is a fully kited gym and hidden in the back corner a small cupboard containing his secret stash of Palinka.
I promised myself on this trip that I would say ‘yes’ more times than ‘no’ so we polished off a small quart. We stumble back up the stairs like two naughty school boys.
At the top of the stairs we bump into his wife.
- She knows exactly what he is up to but she turns a blind eye.
- Ivan winks at me with a victorious and smug grin.
- I clamber onto my bike and cycle off drunk into the pouring rain.
Sitting in a service station sobering up with some coffee I reflect how we 3 are all slightly deluded in our own special ways.