Estimated reading time: 10 minutes
Sometimes the best journeys begin with a simple question — “Why not?”
When Bruce was five, his innocent reply — “I don’t know — I haven’t met all the moms!” — turned a simple question of “who’s the best mom?” into a lifelong reminder that curiosity opens doors we never imagined. That same “Why not?” mindset fuels FishersVinoVibes: every bottle is an invitation to ask, “Why not try a new varietal, a hidden-gem region, or a bold blend?” Just as Katy learned to stay open to the world after Bruce’s logic-defying answer, we raise a glass to the endless possibilities that technology and daring vintners bring to our glasses — proving that the best journeys, whether through childhood wonder or a vineyard trek, begin with a single, daring “Why not?”
That spirit showed up again when Caleb, a friend of Shannon’s from North Carolina, messaged out of the blue to say he couldn’t attend the Hans Zimmer concert in Hannover, Germany, and offered us his tickets. The concert was set for March 12; the call came in late January, by which time we already had a Key West trip planned for late February. At first, Katy and I politely declined after a brief pause and a “why not?” But about a month later, just before we were to leave for Key West, Shannon called from North Carolina and said she could make the trip — and just like that, a spontaneous adventure was set in motion, another vivid reminder that life’s best moments often start with a simple “Why not?”
New York – Why Not
Hans Zimmer — a totally different type of concert. Neither Shannon nor I had ever seen Hans perform, and we’d never been to Hannover, so our preparation was more “let’s see where this takes us” than a carefully planned itinerary. In true “why not?” fashion, the trip grew again — before heading to Germany, we decided to spend a few days in New York City with Bruce.
The three of us made a quiet pilgrimage north of the city to the Allen family plot in Woodlawn Cemetery. It was reflective, grounding, and somehow the perfect counterbalance to the whirlwind that was about to follow overseas.
While in Brooklyn, we stopped by the wine store where Bruce had once worked — a nostalgic visit that turned into a moment of celebration. We picked up a 1996 Château de Sales, marveling that it had been quietly aging for thirty years, and toasted to time, memory, and the adventures still ahead.
Hannover – trocken
After the two-plus-hour train ride from Frankfurt to Hannover, I knew we were in for a treat from our very first lunch at the hotel’s sidewalk café. I asked about their wines, and our server lit up as she recommended a Grauburgunder — the German name for Pinot Gris — a trocken bottle from the Pfalz. Dry yet wonderfully refreshing, it was the kind of glass that makes you think, “Okay, this is going to be a good stop.” That set the tone, and at dinner that evening I didn’t hesitate to order another.
From there, the food and wine just kept leveling up. The night of the concert, we found ourselves at Vince, a cozy spot where a silky Keller Chardonnay matched beautifully with sea bass — understated elegance on both plate and palate. The next evening at Lindenblatt 800 Grad, a surprisingly expressive German Syrah arrived alongside dry-aged steaks, bold and balanced and full of personality. Both meals felt like a microcosm of the trip itself: unexpected pairings that somehow just clicked. As it turned out, both restaurants had come from the same source — a friend Katy and I had met the previous November in Berlin, whose recommendations proved absolutely spot-on.
Hannover – the City
Hannover, as a city, carried that same sense of quiet surprise. I didn’t expect such an easy, relaxed rhythm in a place of its size. One afternoon, Shannon and I were out walking and talking when we turned a corner, and suddenly there were surfers riding a standing wave right in the middle of town — spontaneous and a little wild, the kind of contagious energy that makes you want to linger and be part of it.
Wandering through the old town, everything seemed built for discovery. Narrow cobbled streets, half-timbered buildings, cafés spilling into sunny squares — it all had an open, welcoming rhythm. And, as often happens, talk turned to wine. What struck me most was how passionate everyone was about their trocken wines. There was real pride in the way people described those crisp, structured expressions of northern terroir; it wasn’t just about taste — it was culture, identity, and craft.
The city’s green spaces brought it all together. Lakes glimmered with paddleboarders and rowing crews, and the winding paths through the Eilenriede forest felt endlessly peaceful — fresh air and calm just minutes from the bustle. Everywhere we looked, people were outside laughing, moving, sharing wine, beer, and easy conversation as the day faded into evening. Hannover doesn’t try to impress you; it simply wins you over, quietly and genuinely, one glass of trocken at a time.
Hans Zimmer
And then there was the concert itself. Hans Zimmer’s performance was astonishing — a masterclass in sound and emotion. For a few hours, the music seemed to echo everything I’d felt about the city: intensity wrapped in calm, precision balanced with passion.
Colonge – more than a city
Our original plan had us staying in Hannover the entire time — clean, simple, no detours. But in true “why not?” fashion, the itinerary had other ideas. When Shannon mentioned the trip to a friend back in North Carolina, it turned out her friend was from Cologne, and a single message set off a chain of events that added a day-night-day detour we never saw coming.
Soon we found ourselves having dinner with her friend’s parents in their home city, conversation, food, and laughter flowing as easily as if we’d all known each other for years — yet another reminder of how small and wonderfully intertwined this world can be. And yes, this was one stop where the wine happily took a back seat. Cologne belongs to the Kölsch: served in small 0.2L glasses by no-nonsense Köbes waiters who keep the rounds coming, ticking a tally on your coaster with each pour, until you finally surrender and place the coaster on top of your glass to signal you’re done. We were more than happy to play along.
Before the meetup, Shannon and I spent the afternoon exploring Cologne’s iconic sights: the towering Gothic Cathedral, whose twin spires pierced the sky and whose interior stained-glass windows bathed the nave in kaleidoscopic light, along with a long, leisurely wander through the old town — revisiting some of the same corners Katy and I had discovered two years earlier. The following morning we slipped in for part of Mass at the Cathedral (harder to follow in German than expected, but no less moving), and that afternoon joined a 90-minute boat tour along the Rhine, watching the city’s historic bridges glide past, the old town’s pastel façades shimmering in the river’s reflection, and the modern Rheinauhafen cranes silhouetted against the setting sun. From there it was back to Frankfurt, and then home to what passes for normal — why not?
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