willkommen in münchen

welcome to munich

On Thursday, a couple of classmates and I took a car up to Deutschland. 

  

Yes, we entered Germany the very night that the country was eliminated from Euro 2012. The disappointment, as you can imagine, was palpable. 

Okay, to be more accurate, the streets of Munich were utterly silent and empty—a far cry from the night-long honking and screaming from the humongous Portuguese and Italian community in my neighborhood in Geneva every other day. (Even right now, as I type. Why can’t the games be spread further apart? Or maybe just limited to the weekends? How am I supposed to get any reading done with all the hullaballoo?)

But really, it was the following day when we began to encounter the bitter disappointment of the Germans. Example: our bicycle tour guide told us to ring our little bells so that people could jump out of the way—unless they were Italians. Then we could run them over. There were…many more of these comments thereafter.

Anyway this was another one of those spontaneous trips—so off-the-cuff that we actually booked the rental car and hostel just before taking the train home, stuffing some necessities into a backpack, and then jumping back on the train to the car rental office.

Some trips, I think, are better this way.

We broke 136 miles per hour on the autobahn. In a rental car. It wasn’t even a particularly good one. We were actually averaging a slow pace of 100 miles per hour, but minivans were passing us, so we felt pressured to speed it up. And every car we saw was either a Benz or a BMW. Or, you know, a Porsche.

We stayed in a hostel overrun with European teenagers. Thus ensued midnight yells across the hall and early morning techno music on full blast. And shards of broken bottles all over the lobby floor. But, funny enough, there were also sparkling clean bathrooms, daily housekeeping service, and even a children’s play area. It exceeded my expectations.

We took a bike tour that winded all around the city. It was fun. I rode with grim determination and held the handlebars in a death grip.

Some photos from the tour...The NSDAP (Nazi socialist party) was founded in Munich. Below is a photo of a building where Nazi officials conducted business. The tall, glass windows represent the "transparency" of the government.

 

The next three photos show parts of Odeonsplatz, a particularly famous square in the Nazi movement. You've probably seen that spot in photos from your history textbook. Especially that photo where Hitler is giving a speech and there are hordes of people all down the plaza. Unfortunately, I didn't get a photo of that plaza. But here, you can see part of the walk of resistance, where people who refused to salute the Nazi soldier (who stood beside the lion) would walk around the monument, many times getting caught by Nazi soldiers, dragged back to the start of the walk, and forced to give the salute.

 

Also here: the Angel of Peace and the English Garden...

I only began to loosen up once we entered the Englischer garten, where I rode alongside a stream, and tall trees lined my path. With a breeze lifting my hair, and the sun shining on my face. It was such a perfect moment. I probably could have burst into song if we hadn’t reached the Hofbrau biergarten just then.

  

There's a little spot on the man-made Eisbach where the water turns into crashing waves. This is where the surfers gather and take turns riding back and forth, bank to bank, until they swim off downstream. Even Jack Johnson's tried it.

 

Germany’s big, fried platters were a nice, oily respite after nibbling on cheese and prosciutto and fruit all day, every day in Switzerland. I actually got full after my meals. Pictured below is bretzeln (pretzel) and obatzda (cheese dip). And French fries. And a cold, refreshing half-liter of Radler (half-Hofbrau beer, half lemonade). Apparently they like to call this the “designated driver’s drink.” But whatever. It was good.

In the late afternoon, after the bike tour ended, we returned to the English garden and dipped our feet in the river until the sun began to set. The water was delicious after biking for four hours in 90-degree weather.

The garden was packed with people. Fully clothed, scantily clad, and naked alike. (Yeah, it was one of those gardens.)

And then we ended the night at Hofbrauhaus (the famous tourist-jammed beer hall). (Note: After the Allies invaded, they destroyed all symbols of Nazism. Here, the swastika has been painted over.) 

 

There was much “Prost!”-ing (cheers) and polka music. And more bretzeln.

Next up, Dachau Concentration Camp...