So Munich was a short day and a half trip, but a lovely one no less.
When we arrived at the train station, we couldn't believe the array of amazing food they had.
Basically the Munich train station is also the worlds best food court. I even found some pretzels that were filled with (my favorite food) ...cream cheese! They also had, for those with a more discerning pallet, fresh fish, produce, amazing meats, sushi, and everything you could want.
Our hostel (Euro Youth Hostel) was located roughly 3 blocks away and we were greeted by the most beautiful hostel worker I've ever seen. Having encountered a slight bed bug incident in Florence, which we had been unable to resolve in Lucerne because it's Switzerland and apparently those posh Swiss only believe in dry cleaning, we needed to do laundry ASAP.
We threw everything we owned into a few washing machines and headed out in our only 2 clean outfits (commando and bra-less) into the streets of Munich.
Eventually we found ourselves at the Hoffbrauhaus where we were thrilled to share some beer, a sausage, and a pretzel at the infamous beer hall.
After eating the worlds saddest and hardest pretzel (shame on you HB!) and dashing Natalie's bucket list for Munich which literally only said "eat a pretzel", we headed back to dry our laundry.
The pretzel disappointment was only the first of many comedowns for my poor comrade that day, however, because when we got back to our laundry Natalie realized, to her horror, that nearly everything she owned was either shrunk or now a strange hue of pink, blue, or purple thanks to a rogue red tank top.
As we were now broke and Natalie's had a new wardrobe meant for a 6-year old, we decided to play it low key and watch the World Cup at the hostel over $2 beers where we met a strange but entertaining pair of American actors (Olivia and Matt) who were traveling. Olivia had managed to get into Berghain on her travels through Berlin, so Natalie and I were of course interested in any intel she could offer on how we two American bozos could avoid the dreaded "nine". (It's a known fact that Berghain is one of the hardest to get into nightclubs in the world, turning away 75% of those who wait in line. To make matters worse, they favored folks who are German, serious, and dress like they were born in a Hot Topic so Natalie and I were basically hopeless)
The next morning, we awoke and caught the train and bus to Dachau. We'd been partying quite a bit and needed a little intellectual field trip. It was pouring down rain, which seemed fitting considering the ominous scene. Once inside the camp, Natalie and I split to experience it on our own. We were there for hours without realizing it.
It was a powerful experience. Admittedly, it's also an experience that's hard to put into words. Though the horrors of Dachau and the holocaust were obviously not unknown to Natalie and I before entering the camp, being at the scene of the most horrific crime against humanity has a very explicit and sobering effect on you. Of course going to a concentration camp isn't on the same level as our usual debaucheries, it's one neither of us will ever forget and one which I think everyone should experience at some point in their lives. No matter how uncomfortable, we must always remember and hold close the horrors of the past, so history will not repeat itself.
After returning from Dachau, Natalie and I took off our rain soaked clothes and decided to take part in another, happier, part of German history - BEER TASTING. After our sobering visit to Dachau, spirits needed to be lifted (both figuratively and literally) and beer tasting would be just the juxtaposition we needed.
Our hostel had an arranged "beer tasting" (aka pub crawl) which started at 6:30pm. We came downstairs, joined the usual ranks of 18-24 year old backpackers, and met our tour guide who was a petite blond (terrifying) Russian woman dressed in a German beer waitress outfit.
As the Russian Heidi looked out at our group of 20 backpackers, her first words rang terror into Natalie and my hearts .... "Today I will teach you how to drink not like Pussys" (direct quote- couldn't make that up if I tried).
En route to our first destination, we befriended a 28-year old Irish guy named Gavin who was old and just as uncomfortable as us and the alternate tour guide who was 27, an elementary teacher, American, blond, being trained by the scary Russian guide to tour guide on weekends. and seemingly normal.
Our first stop was a big German beer hall full of big burly German woodcutters (or so I assume based on their haircuts, girth, and outfits). Our group was quickly shuffled downstairs into a secret dungeon where they must take all the tourists. In an attempt to be friendly, Natalie and I tried to strike up conversation with our young comrades. We learned from a 22-year old English couple that they had come from Amsterdam where they had seen an elaborate sex show which included creative uses to candles and ribbons for 40 euros. Admittedly, Natalie and I were impressed. We also learned that the alternate tour guide who we had befriended had a habit of hitting on and sleeping with the young 18-22 backpackers. We should have guessed it by her t-shirt which had the bold phrase "size matters" written across her chest. Gavin was quick to rename her shirt, "anything will do" and Natalie and I made the quick decision we could no longer be friends with a pedophile.
As we got to our 2nd stop, another historic and large German beer hall, and the Russian started leading us down into another secret tourist hideaway, Natalie, our Irish friend, and I made a quick break away - shielding ourselves with large Germans so the Russian wouldn't grab us by our hair into the dungeon for a beating.
It was a clean break and finally we were drinking with the natives. It was at this time that we learned Gavin was relocating to Canada and was funding his backpack trip through his new job who would be expensing his "relocation". Natalie and I were instantly disgusted and liked him less.
After our giant beers, we saw our group leaving and, for fear of being stranded in Germany without knowing how to get home, we followed them to the next bar.
At the next bar we befriended another Irishman named Daniel who had some sort of hand injury. At the end of the night, Daniel attempted to follow us home telling us that he didn't want to be alone. It was then that we discovered, between his tales of recent heartbreak from his breakup and a surgery botch which cut a nerve so he'd never again have use of his hand, that he was the saddest man we'd ever met. Between him and Gavin, all we could think was that those Irish chicks from Dublin were right, they really are all homeless and liars.
After finally shaking the saddest Irishman in the world, Natalie and I went on our merry way.
The next morning, we hopped on the train (after getting food from the best food court in the world - obviously) to head back to Florence for my rendezvous.
It was a quick trip, but Munich was delightful. My only regret is not getting one of those awesome steins.
When we arrived at the train station, we couldn't believe the array of amazing food they had.
Basically the Munich train station is also the worlds best food court. I even found some pretzels that were filled with (my favorite food) ...cream cheese! They also had, for those with a more discerning pallet, fresh fish, produce, amazing meats, sushi, and everything you could want.
Our hostel (Euro Youth Hostel) was located roughly 3 blocks away and we were greeted by the most beautiful hostel worker I've ever seen. Having encountered a slight bed bug incident in Florence, which we had been unable to resolve in Lucerne because it's Switzerland and apparently those posh Swiss only believe in dry cleaning, we needed to do laundry ASAP.
(Natalie inspecting for bed bugs - lessons learned from Florence)
We threw everything we owned into a few washing machines and headed out in our only 2 clean outfits (commando and bra-less) into the streets of Munich.
Eventually we found ourselves at the Hoffbrauhaus where we were thrilled to share some beer, a sausage, and a pretzel at the infamous beer hall.
After eating the worlds saddest and hardest pretzel (shame on you HB!) and dashing Natalie's bucket list for Munich which literally only said "eat a pretzel", we headed back to dry our laundry.
(Good beer and the world's worst pretzel)
The pretzel disappointment was only the first of many comedowns for my poor comrade that day, however, because when we got back to our laundry Natalie realized, to her horror, that nearly everything she owned was either shrunk or now a strange hue of pink, blue, or purple thanks to a rogue red tank top.
(Natalie lamenting about her new 6-year old girl wardrobe)
As we were now broke and Natalie's had a new wardrobe meant for a 6-year old, we decided to play it low key and watch the World Cup at the hostel over $2 beers where we met a strange but entertaining pair of American actors (Olivia and Matt) who were traveling. Olivia had managed to get into Berghain on her travels through Berlin, so Natalie and I were of course interested in any intel she could offer on how we two American bozos could avoid the dreaded "nine". (It's a known fact that Berghain is one of the hardest to get into nightclubs in the world, turning away 75% of those who wait in line. To make matters worse, they favored folks who are German, serious, and dress like they were born in a Hot Topic so Natalie and I were basically hopeless)
The next morning, we awoke and caught the train and bus to Dachau. We'd been partying quite a bit and needed a little intellectual field trip. It was pouring down rain, which seemed fitting considering the ominous scene. Once inside the camp, Natalie and I split to experience it on our own. We were there for hours without realizing it.
It was a powerful experience. Admittedly, it's also an experience that's hard to put into words. Though the horrors of Dachau and the holocaust were obviously not unknown to Natalie and I before entering the camp, being at the scene of the most horrific crime against humanity has a very explicit and sobering effect on you. Of course going to a concentration camp isn't on the same level as our usual debaucheries, it's one neither of us will ever forget and one which I think everyone should experience at some point in their lives. No matter how uncomfortable, we must always remember and hold close the horrors of the past, so history will not repeat itself.
After returning from Dachau, Natalie and I took off our rain soaked clothes and decided to take part in another, happier, part of German history - BEER TASTING. After our sobering visit to Dachau, spirits needed to be lifted (both figuratively and literally) and beer tasting would be just the juxtaposition we needed.
Our hostel had an arranged "beer tasting" (aka pub crawl) which started at 6:30pm. We came downstairs, joined the usual ranks of 18-24 year old backpackers, and met our tour guide who was a petite blond (terrifying) Russian woman dressed in a German beer waitress outfit.
As the Russian Heidi looked out at our group of 20 backpackers, her first words rang terror into Natalie and my hearts .... "Today I will teach you how to drink not like Pussys" (direct quote- couldn't make that up if I tried).
En route to our first destination, we befriended a 28-year old Irish guy named Gavin who was old and just as uncomfortable as us and the alternate tour guide who was 27, an elementary teacher, American, blond, being trained by the scary Russian guide to tour guide on weekends. and seemingly normal.
Our first stop was a big German beer hall full of big burly German woodcutters (or so I assume based on their haircuts, girth, and outfits). Our group was quickly shuffled downstairs into a secret dungeon where they must take all the tourists. In an attempt to be friendly, Natalie and I tried to strike up conversation with our young comrades. We learned from a 22-year old English couple that they had come from Amsterdam where they had seen an elaborate sex show which included creative uses to candles and ribbons for 40 euros. Admittedly, Natalie and I were impressed. We also learned that the alternate tour guide who we had befriended had a habit of hitting on and sleeping with the young 18-22 backpackers. We should have guessed it by her t-shirt which had the bold phrase "size matters" written across her chest. Gavin was quick to rename her shirt, "anything will do" and Natalie and I made the quick decision we could no longer be friends with a pedophile.
(Natalie, our new friend Gavin, myself, and some random blond guy who helped himself into the photo)
As we got to our 2nd stop, another historic and large German beer hall, and the Russian started leading us down into another secret tourist hideaway, Natalie, our Irish friend, and I made a quick break away - shielding ourselves with large Germans so the Russian wouldn't grab us by our hair into the dungeon for a beating.
It was a clean break and finally we were drinking with the natives. It was at this time that we learned Gavin was relocating to Canada and was funding his backpack trip through his new job who would be expensing his "relocation". Natalie and I were instantly disgusted and liked him less.
After our giant beers, we saw our group leaving and, for fear of being stranded in Germany without knowing how to get home, we followed them to the next bar.
(En route to the next destination...quick stop to make everyone hate Americans just a little more)
At the next bar we befriended another Irishman named Daniel who had some sort of hand injury. At the end of the night, Daniel attempted to follow us home telling us that he didn't want to be alone. It was then that we discovered, between his tales of recent heartbreak from his breakup and a surgery botch which cut a nerve so he'd never again have use of his hand, that he was the saddest man we'd ever met. Between him and Gavin, all we could think was that those Irish chicks from Dublin were right, they really are all homeless and liars.
After finally shaking the saddest Irishman in the world, Natalie and I went on our merry way.
The next morning, we hopped on the train (after getting food from the best food court in the world - obviously) to head back to Florence for my rendezvous.
It was a quick trip, but Munich was delightful. My only regret is not getting one of those awesome steins.
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