Munich Day 1: The Last Day in Munich

I am not quite sure how to go about telling this, but currently I am writing from a restaurant I first found in a dream. The Wirtshaus-Zurweib-Hauen Rose, a restaurant just off the Marien-Platz Square, with an open wall facing the busy street.

I’ve had a good deal of de ja vu in my past, but never in my life have I been so certain of something like this. In the dream, I recall thinking that I must be at Renfest, and to look around, I can see why. The decorum is of a similar style, and a bit gaudy, with all words written in a pretty Germanic style; in a dream I could imagine easily mistaking it.

I’m not sure what to make of it all. This is incredibly eerie yet simaltaneously comfortable – comfortable because I’m familiar with this place already. I’m not sure what else to say about it, except that today my dreams have come true.

Lunch in the English Gardens

Now, if I had gone over my travel plan before I left America, and looked at my month-long travel plan to find the absolute most inconvenient night to have difficulty sleeping, I would have quickly and easily decided on last night. After all, if I have only one full day in Munich, and can’t sleep the night beforehand, it should be obvious that it will be that much harder to enjoy the one day I have.

If you haven’t caught on by now, last night I had difficulty sleeping for the first time since Glascow. Not a little trouble sleeping, but a lot. Though I’ve managed to get to sleep by midnight regularly since I left America, for some reason last night I tossed and turned until 4. I blame Robin Hobbs and Jesus, myself.

So this morning I roused later than I would have liked (around 10) and still lacked a good deal of energy-restoring sleep. In the end, I’m afraid that I set my day’s ambitions rather low.

Both my guidebooks were crazy about Munich, and had many recommendations for activity, yet nothing that really stood out to me. Before I left, Gwyn had highly recommended the English Gardens, and a man I met on a train told me the beer-gardens of Munich ought not to be overlooked. So it was that when I arrived in the English Gardens, hungry and ready for lunch, when I saw the beer garden within the english garden, an obvious strategy formed in my head.

To begin with, what I saw of the English Gardens was quite nice. Don’t be fooled by the name, it’s really a large park more than a garden, and utterly filled with greenery. There wasn’t much here that couldn’t be found somewhere in America, but the atmosphere was quite serene.

It wasn’t raining, but the weather was overcast to the point that it seemed like the skies could open up at any moment, destroying any fantasy I had of the nude sunbathers the guidebook predicted would be there (for this reason, one of my books suggested it was Munich’s most popular tourist attraction).

The gardens features a rapidly moving stream that seemed startling deep and rough for a man made body of water. They were enough to make me pause and watch the water pass for a good time, before moving on. I suspect I must be distantly related to a vampire, because although I’ve never had trouble crossing running water, I have never been able to keep myself from stopping from a small time and admiring it.

To walk through the gardens, especially with the sound of running water in the background, was quite refreshing. So it was that I found myself in the beer gardens, and thankfully they did serve food.

My meal could not have been better than it was without the sun having come out. As it happened, they served one of my favorite meals – mozzarella and tomato salad with vinaigrette dressing. Mmmmmm. Too vegetarian for you? I’m afraid I have such tendencies – sue me.

Naturally though, a beer lover could hardly visit the beer gardens of Munich without having himself a beer. This led to perhaps the most defining moment in my Munich experience – a moment I doubt I’ll ever forget.

The place served two kinds of beer described by the beer server as ‘light beer’ and ‘strong beer’. The choice left no room for hesitation – clearly strong beer was the way to go.

Then I received the beer, and my jaw gained some slack.

My guidebook had mentioned that in some parts of Germany they are in the habit of selling beer in liter-sized cups. I’d expected that sort of thing to be the exception rather than the rule, served by only a few eccentric bars. So when the man slammed a mug of beer down in front of me almost as tall as my head and half as wide, I was a little bit shocked. I almost cried.

Oh, and it was good beer too, and strong as advertised. It didn’t rival some Belgian beers I’d had recently, but it certainly did the trick quite well. Having it served to me along with one of my favorite meals, the whole thing looked so good that I had to take a picture before consuming it.

In the end it took me about 15 minutes to eat my food and another hour on top of that to fully drink the monsterously sized beer.

Consequences

It was never in the plan to get drunk before exploring the English Gardens. When I ordered my beer with lunch, it hadn’t occurred to me that the result might make me anything but mildly tipsy. However, thus it was that a liter of strong german beer later, I wasn’t entirely certain I could walk. I was absurdly sloshed.

By the time I reached the end of the glass, I felt accomplished. I knew that I had to have something to remember this experience by, and in the end, I decided on the liter-sized beer glass. Of course I wasn’t certain I could convince the place to sell it to me, and even less certain that they would do so for a reasonable price. However, some drunken translation errors later, they sold it to me for 3 euros – a very reasonable price, and cheaper than I had even imagined.

So it was that I ended up spending my day stumbling around the English Gardens of Munich. For the record, sobriety hit me a little past 4. Still, I certainly enjoyed the English Gardens. I do, after all, love the environment. Even so, I might have been a little under-whelmed had I not been in my intoxicated state.

However, in my intoxicated state I got lost trying to wander my way back to my bus stop. Unwittingly, I stumbled on what was undoubtedly the main attraction, and had I not almost missed seeing it, I would say it was impossible to miss.

I’m speaking of a place where the trees of the garden open up to reveal a lake, both sizable and quite magnificent; filled with ducks, swans, geese, and a thousand other types of assorted foul. Among the myriad of birds were even a few black swans, the existence of which were unknown to me until I saw them here.

The water was crowded with birds as I have never seen. A quick glance might make one believe that the water was fouled by pollution instead of foul, because the birds literally covered most of the visible water in some areas. It was pretty amazing.

Marienplatz and the Mediocre Restaurant of my Dreams

After I found my way out of the English Gardens, I figured I might as well have a look at the town square, Marienplatz, and so I did.

What I first appreciated there was a fountain I discovered that happened to double as a bench. I don’t mean this as in there is a fountain in the center and benches bordering it. The thing was a nature-inspired construct to be certain. The fountain was shaped a little bit like an arena, with the water in the center, and stone surrounding it outward in a bowl-like formation. Water trickled into the center from several key stones at the top of the rim, but essentially one could sit anywhere that the trickle did not hit in its downward path. The pool itself had several large plexiglass mushrooms spouting out of the water, which several local kids were enjoying as stepping stones.

I also briefly looked into Cathedral of our Lady (after being so impressed by the Church of Our Lady, how could I resist?) but I wasn’t overly impressed. This was actually a good thing, since as I went inside it seemed that they were preparing an evening mass.

After wandering around a but more, I finally stumbled my way into the central square.

As central squares go (and I’ve seen 4 in the last week or so) it would have been less than impressive save one thing: one of the four sides of the square was taken up entirely by a giant glockenspiel. You know, those German wind-up clocks that look like castles, and have people that come out and do things when it strikes the hour? This one was massive. It looked like it had been operating for a very long time, but its base had become something between a shopping mall and a strip mall.

Looking back, I suspect that I stumbled upon the legendary glockenspiel of Munich, but I never really bothered to investigate. Instead, I was side-tracked by assorted distractions. There was a woman dancing for change, and an anti-war stand on the other side of the square. I signed a petition and angry letter heading towards Bush and John Ashcroft.

One of the most notable things I’ve seen on this trip is just how central to global politics the rest of the world sees the United States. Everything political that I’ve seen or heard – everything has concerned the U.S. No protests, allies, or programs of any local politics. There’s nothing about things within the city, country, or even the European Union. All of it has involved the United States and all of it has viewed our recent actions with great disapproval.

I myself could name maybe 2 European political leaders, and I’m certain that I could not name all the countries. Hell, I didn’t know of Slovenia until I met Slovenians. Lord knows I’m bad at global politics. But the reverse most definitely seems not to be true. From what I have seen here, the world will be sitting by their televisions and radios this presidential election almost as surely as Americans will be.

After signing the anti-war stuff, I decided to make my way to the well known Haufbruhaus – the huge state-run beer hall of Munich. I was hesitant to actually drink any beer after my last encounter in the beer gardens, but I really wanted to see it.

Then, as I worked my way towards it, I spotted the familiar restaurant I’d seen in my dreams. Though some part of me kept expecting something to happen here, I have found nothing but average food and an uneventful meal.

No Escaping the Haufbruhaus

Finding the mediocre restaurant of my dreams caused me to forget all about the Haufbruhaus. Instead, I went back to my hostel after dinner, took a shower, and spent several hours reading. I expected this to be my night. However, good fortune struck me again (even less expected this time than the last). The hostel I was staying at housed about 10 people at a time. As it happened I began talking with two Canadian guys staying in my room. We got along well from the start, and the group very quickly acquired two rather attractive Austrian girls who were also staying there. One of the girls suggested we all go out to the Haufbruhaus that night. Isn’t it funny how things work out?

The Haufbruhaus is a huge place, likened to a dining hall in layout, but structurally it seemed like a much older and more significant building. There were stained glass windows, stylish pillars, and a beautifully painted ceiling. The atmosphere of the place, however, was that of a rowdy bar. The tables were covered in words, names, and shapes people had carved into it over the years. Covered.

I had fun with the contrast of looking down at the messy, disfigured table, then up at the elaborately painted ceiling, down the stylish pillars, and back to the tables.

It was a bit of an oddity as places go, but I enjoyed myself. Another liter of beer down the hatch. Take into account some reading-beer I’d had earlier, before I’d planned to go out again, and I had probably the most beer I’d ever consumed in an evening.

When we returned, two Russian girls had checked in, and between the 7 of us we ended up talking well into the night. The Russian girls, fortunately, were fluent in both Russian and English. The Austrian girls spoke German and English. As the Canadians both spoke French as their first language, I was fortunate to be both the only monolingual traveler there, and fluent in the only language all 7 of us could speak. Guess if I could only speak one, I got a good one.

Leaving Munich: Gone as quick as it Came

Next morning we all awoke together. We talked for a while, I bid my farewell to everyone, if a bit regretfully, and checked out of Munich. I’ve spent more or less the rest of this day on a train trying to bring this journal up to the times.

Ok, that’s a lie. I’ve spent mostly the whole day procrastinating writing, but actually reading Golden Fool, by Robin Hobbs. I’ve finished it now. Damn my eagerness, I want the last book.

The night that I had trouble sleeping, I spent a great deal of time composing a letter to the author in my head. I think I may actually send one when I get home. But then, so much of what I’d want to write to her would sound kind of creepy.

I’ve never, in all my reading, encountered a character I can better identify with than the main character of her novels, FitzChivalry, which is made odder by the fact that he must be one of the most developed characters I’ve ever read. But the deeper he’s developed the more I empathize with him.

How exactly would you go about telling an author that they have a knack for casually broaching ethical, political, and psychological issues that have been twirling around your head in the very recent past? It feels as if she’s got a flashlight in my eye and has been somehow examining the contents of my head.