Day 20 - Munich

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Day 20
(July 21, 1997)
Beer. Is that enough of a reason for one to visit a city? People decide to visit places for all sorts of reasons. Some go to New York to see a statue of some lady holding a flashlight. Others travel to China to walk on a wall. Many tourists come from across the world to my hometown, Toronto, just to see the world’s largest phallic symbol, the CN Tower. Why not travel to a city because they are known to serve a good pint of ale? Sure there were many other reasons to include Munich on my itinerary. This was the place where the Beer Hall Putz, Adolf Hitler first tried to take over the world. I think that most of the patrons just thought he was a drunken loon and ignored his manic rantings. Munich is also known for its fancy clock, the Glockenstein. However, before I visited Munich, my mind recalled John Candy and his German Polka singer Stan Schmenge. I pictured visiting a beer hall, holding forth a frothy pint of Bavarian Lager and singing polka songs with Stan and Yosh Schmenge. Now, that is enough of a reason to visit Munich…isn’t it?

Upon arriving in Munich, my day started with purchasing the most expensive cup of coffee ever consumed. For the equivalent of $3 Cdn, I bought myself a tiny cup of liquid tar. I must have sipped on it for at least an hour trying to eke out three bucks worth of value. Although, I was willingly ripped off, the experience was not without its' valued lesson. The crooks running every train station or airport terminal feel that it is their god-given right to rob the captive customer blind. Where else does one have to pay obscene prices for every day items like chocolate bars, Coca-colas, coffees or even a Big Mac Combos? A hungry, weary traveller disembarks from their ride and must clear out their wallet in order to satisfy their grumbling belly. Disgusting…and I am not only referring to the liquid tar coffee.

Leaving the Hauptbahnhof station, my first task was once again, housekeeping. I needed to find a Laundromat. Before you jump to conclusions, on the ride from Prague I didn’t get chucked into pit of mud or mistakenly pack my gear within a two foot radius of my shoes. Rather, for whatever reason I thought that fifty cents was too much to pay for the extra five minutes to completely dry my laundry. I think this is a really sad personal revelation. I am willing to dig deep into my jean pockets and freely doll out dollars to satisfy my desire for alcoholic nourishment yet I won’t part with pocket change to dry my duds. Then again, if wearing wet jeans meant that I could buy myself another pint at last call then maybe my discomfort can be remedied by the relaxed, comforted feeling I get when hanging out with my ole pal brewski.

Clothed in a warm cottony fresh, dry T-shirt and pair of comfortable walking shorts, I decided that since I was in Munich, I might as well see it. I also had eight hours to blow before check-in time at my hostel. Locking the backpack at the train station and following the crowds, I set out to explore. I wandered down the main pedestrian thoroughfare and encountered a series of old churches and civic buildings. The churches in Munich are quite different than most of the others which I have seen. Bavaria is where the Reformation first took place. One can see this fact within the styles and manners of the buildings. The structures are huge but quite plain. They were built with a ‘Reformation-minded’ code of ethics in mind. These first Protestants rejected the superficial nature of the Catholic Church. They did not want to clutter their worship of the Lord by creating elaborate golden statues and silver-plated monuments. Rather, they wanted to build huge structures to house the multitudes of worshipers and express their devotion through words of prayer not shiny things. From this key aspect of the reformation it is no doubt why the Scots took to it so favourably. Those cheap bastards were attracted by the fact that they could skimp on the decorations and still get their salvation. Bunch of tight-fisted wankers!

The main cathedral in central Munich is called Frauenkirche or “Cathedral of Our Lady”. Built way back in 1468 our boys decided to do a little remodelling of sorts in 1944 and 1945. Since rebuilt, the cathedral maintains much of the size and structure of the original design. However, the church seems to have lost much of its’ original mystique and style as a result of our pulverizing aerial bombardments. I read that the church was originally modelled after the Dome of the Rock Cathedral from Jerusalem. Regardless of what it was modelled after, the one thing that struck me about the place was its’ size. The Frauenkirche holds up to 20,000 people. 20,000…now that is the average attendance of an NBA basketball game. Looking around, the structure was so huge that they probably could host a basketball game between the aisles and have enough room to seat 20,000 fans as well.

The highlight of my morning’s adventure was a jaunt through the Marienplatz. This is the central square in Munich where one can find the new city hall, the old city hall and the famous Munich Glockenspiel. While the dancing clock kept my attention for a minute or two, I was mostly impressed by the street performers. The eccentrics working within the square were the true works of art. My first encounter was with a wacky old man. As I was aimlessly wandering the square taking in the Munchen sights, I was jolted by the sound of a horn. It was one of those horns from the Ricola commercials. Immediately, I investigated the source of the bellowing. As I drew closer, I realized to my dismay that I was not going to get a free sample of throat lozenges. Instead, I came upon a wrinkled old man, displaying a keen resemblance to Ali Baba, blowing on a conch. He was the Amazing Munchen.

Standing amongst a hoard of people, he spoke to the mass in both German and English. (The hoards of Jap tourists would be left to fend for themselves. Since Ali Baba’s lengthy show would not have accommodated the strict itinerary of Japanese tourists, they would not have any time allotted in their schedule to watch him. All they do is tour the great cities by bus, stop, get out and run around for a half-hour snapping shots from their Canon camera in full scurry and then scamper back onto the bus until they arrived at the next stop. Odd folks, those Japanese.) So there I was, watching Ali work the crowd. He babbled something in broken English. I couldn’t decipher his mutterings; however from his manners it appeared that he was scanning the crowd in search of an assistant. He looked left and then looked right. I respond by looking up, looking to the side and then staring at my shoes. All of a sudden the old coot was dragging me into the centre of his little theatre. I was The Amazing Munchen’s personal assistant. Just call me Presto Marko. My role in his skit was to bind the old geezer inside a straight jacket and then tie him up in a sack. A crowd of approximately 80-100 people looked on as I tied him up into his sack. Although I am quite comfortable admitting that I could never free myself from such a tight situation, the leather bindings were rather loose. So there I was tugging on the leather straps, playing to the crowd, and trying to make it appear that I was placing this old guy in a precarious situation. We counted down for about a minute and then suddenly, the Amazing Munchkin emerged triumphantly from his bag. The crowd burst into spontaneous applause. Some whistled, others cheered, and some showered him with flowers. (He better get used to being surrounded by flowers. He is so old that in a few years, a pine box covered with a lovely arrangement will be replacing the bag and at that time he will have no chance at all of escaping.) I emerged with a pretty cool story to add to my book.

Following the Amazing Munchen, there was a second street act which entertained me. The scene was typical. I was about six blocks from the square when I heard the ancient wailing of the pipes. While I was quite a distance from the sound, I don’t think my mind actually identified the source of the distant noise. Subconsciously, my body was drawn towards it nonetheless. The pipes tend to have this incredible effect on people. One minute you are minding your own business, say window shopping or in line to buy a bratwurst when suddenly, your body is magically floating towards the distant sound. Sentences are stopped mid-stream. Non Scots look on amazed and watch the mesmerized highlander flutter towards the cries of the ancient pipes. It is quite fascinating. Upon arrival in the square, I sat on the ledge of a water fountain and listened to these two young lads play the best toe-tapping bag pipe tunes I have ever heard. It definitely was one of my most memorable hours spent in Munich.

After enjoying the sound of the pipes, I found myself wandering around the city once again. However, the relaxed and serene feeling I had was quickly whittled away as I cursed the wretched German republic. Today was a Monday and for some reason, it is customary in Germany for all museums and tourist attractions to be closed on Monday. They should highlight that fact in the bible. Thankfully, the churches were open. The churches are always open. They need to serve as perpetual havens for the weary, the needy, the helpless and the desperately bored tourist.

The second key church that I visited was called Peterkirche. For those who do not speak Kraut, it means Peter’s Church. I assume that it is named after some guy named Peter who built the place. However, Peter could have just been the guy who paid for his name to be on the church, kind of like an early day Wrigley Field or Dr. Pepper Ballpark. Peterkirche turned out to be the oldest church in Munich. Upon entry I was instantly drawn towards the altar. Very cool. I always tend to be drawn towards the altars in European churches. The key reason is they are always ornate, always adorned with sparkly, splashy gold and dotted with some rubies and diamonds. The tactic used by the churches designers are very similar to how parents dangle car keys in front of babies to get their attention and entertain them. I wonder if these altars are the church way of saying “Goo…goo” to their parishioners.

The rest of my afternoon was spent wandering here, perusing the sights there and making my way over to that other place. As you can tell, I cannot hold in all my excitement. After what seemed like eons spent wasting time, I finally decided to proceed to my evening’s accommodations. I took a subway train across the town, transferred to a waiting commuter train and took a brisk trudge through Munchen suburbia to find my own personal castle. It is true. I booked a spot at a renovated 18th century castle. Do not get me wrong, I was not sleeping on a pile of reeds and getting my evening’s rest amongst the cattle and sheep. The castle was quite modern. It had a tower and thick walls but was fitted with modern necessities such as running water, electricity and heat. While it seemed like the perfect place for a historian traveller to stay for the night, it wasn’t my ideal palace. The hostel was overrun by loud obnoxious kids and was located quite far from all of the hustle and bustle of downtown Munich. To be succinct, it was located very far from the pubs and the place had a curfew. I was hooped.

After a long day walking the city, I took a quick half-hour nap, tried to ignore my roommate (creepy fellow) and eventually decided to search for some grub at any nearby food depot. During my excursion, I found and internet café, shot off a couple of e-mails to the loved ones back home and returned to the stables for a early night. All in all, the day turned out to be rather dull.

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