Bavaria and a Home Brew Party

It's Ascension Day, which is a national holiday here in the Netherlands, which means no one, and I mean no one, is at work. This includes the employees of my beloved neighborhood market, Super de Boer. Today also marks the third time our flat has lacked the foresight to buy more toilet paper before the onset of a holiday. Ahh, the joys of an international flat. Regardless of that minor setback, I'm spending today, as well as the next few, relaxing and preparing for an upcoming midterm, which must be an odd concept to those of you who are wrapping up finals as this is written.

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My solo journey to the Bavarian Motherland could've started a bit more smoothly. Melanie's tear-jerking going away party didn't wrap up until deep into Sunday morning, and you know how I like to see things through. Needless to say, when I boarded the ICE train at spoor 14 in Utrecht Centraal, it was 7am and I wasn't entirely convinced I had slept. I was damn sure I hadn't showered, and would later discover did a disgraceful job of packing. The train ride was a direct 7 hours to Munich, passing through Dusseldorf, Cologne and Frankfurt along the way, not to mention an endless spance of Bavarian hill country. Hills have become a sort of novelty for me, due to Holland's impossibly flat terrain, so when they began to fill my large picture window, thoughts of my hangover and lack of food faded a bit.

I arrived at München Hbf shortly after 14:00, and soon realized I had forgotten my guide book, and failed to jot down the address of my hostel. I had, however, a rough idea of where it was, so once I figured out which way was south (thank you Boy Scouts) I stumbled into the hostel. I was met with that famous Bavarian hospitality, which came in the form of a free beer at the hostel bar. After dumping my bag in my room, I headed out to catch a few museums, cheap on Sundays, before closing time. I carelessly snatched the first map I saw, which turned out to be a metro map. Try navigating a city with a metro map and no metro pass. Unless the city looks like a series of branches shooting out from a small dot in the middle, it's going to be tough. By some stroke of luck or genius, (I prefer genius), I found the museums in no time flat. I first visited the Alte Pinahothek, which featured loads of Reubens, Rembrandts and van Dycks, as well as an over complicated method of pinning one's ticket to oneself with use of a small metal tab. My brain was not running on all cylinders, and after having the process explained to me in German three times, I considered stapling it to my chest an attractive alternative. I left the museum in time to casually view the Neue Pinakothek, which was just across a large plaza. Of the two, this was my favorite, though there was quite a bit of overlap in the eras covered. I was pleasantly surprised to find van Gogh's Sunflowers, as well as a few Monets. My hunger and strong desire to shower was ignored for a while longer while I wandered the city, found the main square, Mariaplatz, and shot a few photos. There is a large statue of a boar on the outskirts of the platz, and as I was standing in front of it, trying to remember which Disney character it reminded me of, a Japanese man tapped me on the shoulder and requested I take his photo with the statue, which he claimed is his 'birth animal'. After shooting the photo to his liking, he insisted I also take a photo with the bronze animal. Pumbaa, by the way.

Once back at the hostel, I met a few people. As the next few days passed, there was an obvious difference in how I was treated by those people I met before I showered, and those I met post-shower. Thankfully, it was only a pair off ADD inflicted Indiana born college sophomores who shook my hand pre-shower, so I didn't worry too much about it. My poor packing came to light before the shower. No socks. No underwear. No shampoo. No shaving cream, but I did have a razor. Mostly longsleeve shirts, perfect for 80 degree weather. Regardless, the shower felt amazing, though I was slightly bothered by the fact that the shower had no curtain, no lock, and was adjacent to the common room. People walked in. I stopped counting after three.

I met some pretty interesting people that night. One Finnish guy in the same dorm had just returned from four months in SE Asia, with plans for Barcelona and Nice before he returned to the homeland. It's amazing how out-travelled one can feel after being to over 20+ cities in the last four months. Down in the bar, I relaxed with a few German girls, a Wisconsinite, and a German-Hungarian guy who insisted Budapest was the greatest city in Europe. He also insisted I carry 200 euro when I travel there, in case I need to pay off the police. "When you get arrested in Hungary man, you need only two words: How much?" This made me feel good about planning a trip to eastern Europe. A few half litres later, I was plenty ready for my stiff mattress and a full night's sleep.

I woke up early and refreshed Monday morning, and was down in the bar for breakfast by 9. Breakfast was toast and jam and two cups of watered down German coffee. Tasted great. In the lobby, I reunited with the previous night's German girls and met a Brazilian guy studying English in Ireland. The four of us took the NewMunich, tips only, tour of the city, which turned out to be led by a Wisconsin-born scientologist with a knack for making fun of himself, which is a common trait in tour guides. The tour was well done, and stayed within the original inner city. We watched the Glockenspiel do its thing on the hour. It was mildly entertaining, and to the tune of bells, told two stories. The first was of a Bavarian prince's marriage to a French princess, which ended in a royal joust. The second was of the end of the Plague, celebrated by dancing barrelmakers, who could now quit making barrels for bodies, and resume making beer barrels. Something worth dancing about. Another highlight of the tour was lunch at a beer garden, where everything on the menu was some form of pork or wurst, and every beverage was beer. The beer garden is in the large town market, which features a medieval maypole in the center of the ruckus. Old custom was for rival Bavarian towns to sneak into their neighbors' and steal the maypole, unnoticed. Not sure how that occurred, due to the 15 meter height of the pole, but maybe big, drunk, leiderhausen wearing Bavarians are quieter than I'd imagine. We also swung by most of Munich's beautiful churches, and even listened in on some organ work. Post-tour, a few of us climbed a tower (something I seem to do in every single city) and shot some nice panoramic photos of the city.

After a quick bite, we headed out to the Englischer Garten, the largest city park in Europe. The place was very beautiful, but the best part was the large beer garden smack dab in the middle, which also had a large Chinese tower. Not sure why, but it's difficult to argue after two of the litre mugs they pass out in the garden. Munich's beer is a full tasting wheat beer, and one fills up quick on these. We walked around the park a bit before heading back into the city to check out the old university buildings and Marienplatz. The night was capped with some small talk in Jaeger's bar.

Tuesday morning I showered up and checked out, but not before choking down another free breakfast. I then hopped the S-Bahn out to Dachau, the city that will forever have a horrifying connotation to its name. When I arrived at the Dachau Memorial Concentration Camp, the skies were already beginning to grey, and before long a light rain was falling. The whole place is even more sobering than one would expect, and the museum is one of the best I've seen here. It covers history from 1933 to the present day, with the darkest moments coming pre-WWII. "The Final Solution" and other Nazi horrors are discussed at great length. The museum also features a moving English documentary on the camp. There are not many original buildings standing on the grounds, but in place of the barracks are giant stone-filled foundations, each numbered. There are also a number of more specific memorials, the most impressive of which is the one remembering all who died within the walls. The monument is a tangle of starved bodies, weaved together like barbed wire. The place was worth the visit, no question. Munich is a place I'd like to return to someday, preferably around September, for the infamous Oktoberfest. Until then, I'll have to settle for the litre of Augustiner I brought back to Utrecht.

When I got back late Tuesday night, I was informed a small group of us, myself, Barry, Josefin, Mike and Jake, would be venturing out to Barry's sister's place for a night of food and homebrew tasting. They live in the Dutch countryside, on a genuine farm. The place is nice, and Barry had additional family in town, so there were a lot of people around. There more than enough delicious food to go around, and I even had the chance to man the bbq for a while. It felt just like America. The party had enough momentum to enter the wee hours of the morning, and I doubt a single person in that house woke up this morning feeling within spitting distance of 100%. It was a nice change of pace from the old city feel of Utrecht, and I'm glad I went out there.

Now I suppose I should crack that economics book...