Bier und Suppe

I am so bleary-eyed, beleaguered, and befuddled at this point, it's a wonder I can even sit up in my chair. Since the only German words I know are "please", "thank you", and my maiden name, the menu I'm staring at looks a lot like the Rosetta Stone, undeciphered. I know there's something for me to eat in this cafe, I just don't know how to ask for it.

The waiter seems nice, but he is definitely not going to help me out; he's enjoying my helpless expression. "Beer..." I say, and he says "Ja, bier." So far so good. "Soup?" I venture to ask, and he suddenly starts speaking quickly and pointing at the menu. I really want onion soup, which I think might be zwiebelsuppe, but I don't see that. He jabs his finger at something and I respond, "Ja," defeated.

The beer is cool and refreshing, the soup (even though it has mystery meat floating in it) is warm and nourishing. I'm ready to go lie down now, probably face flat, probably for 10 hours, but at least I know how to say "danke" as I get up to go. Maybe tomorrow I can play at being more like Jean-François Champollion...