Munich is one of the locations I wanted to visit most. I've heard many great things about Germany in general, and so many people told me that if I do anything in Europe, go to Munich. Just by driving through it to get to our campsite, I knew it was going to be outrageously awesome. Everything from the grass, trees and lakes to the buildings, parks and people were all beautiful (ESPECIALLY the people, wooooooah!). On the way to the campsite, Jodie passed around a little container full of 'beer lollies', basically little jelly-like lollies shaped as steins. They tasted awful, but they definitely heightened my excitement. We drove past three old guys that were having an afternoon drink on a park bench, and it's just about the coolest thing I've ever seen. Unlike Australia, the German's don't have a drinking problem. Although consuming considerably more beer each year than Australians (both by total litres and per capita), I believe German's don't have anywhere near as big a problem with public drunkenness and drunken rage as Australians. Because of this, drinking in public is banned in Australia, and far from banned in Germany. These bad-boys sitting on the park bench were insanely cool and I wanted to jump off the bus and go and have a public beer with them, but unfortunately, I would have died as the bus was in full motion.
Arriving at the campsite, we discovered you have to pay for hot water by obtaining tokens from the reception, and then shoving them in the machine in the shower. Strange folk these camp-ground owners. After a little stroll, we discovered these champions having a surf in the weir. It looked like an extreme sport and also looked bloody dangerous, but it was great fun to watch, and I wanted to run down there and have a go myself, but if these looked like they were struggling, I would have died for sure. I must commend them for their perseverance, working with what they have. Of what I understand of German geography, Munich is a bloody long way from the beach, so waves are definitely hard to come across.
Before long, we were getting ourselves ready for a massive night at the beer halls of Munich, known worldwide. With my brown pants I bought from Prague in hand, I rocked out a somewhat German looking getup and we hit up the bus and were on our way. On arrival, we were the only group in the hall, but were informed there were another 3 Contiki groups on their way to join us. On the stage were two legends - One with a keyboard and one with a trumpet. They went on to perform for most of the night. As we sat down, we were all given menu's. 3/4 of the menu was taken up by beer choices and with a stein included, it was only natural that I smashed that bad-boy up straight away. Down the very bottom were the dinner options. It was a choice of fried cheese with a salad, chicken schnitzel with chips or a traditional pork knuckle with potato and some cabbage stuff on the side. Due to the sensational sounding of this succulent serving, I quite obviously went for the pork knuckle. It was 100 times better than what I imagined it would be. The liquid gold in my stein was also magical beyond belief.
Not all of the dish was as good as I make it out to be though. You see that little ball thing on the plate? Yes, that's supposed to be the potato. This thing was bloody awful and I almost emptied my stomach contents on the table trying to eat it. I have no idea what they done to the potato to make it like this, but I never want to eat it like that again. It was squidgy and didn't fall apart like normal potato. When trying to cut it, the knife would just press down into it and change it's shape, shortly after springing back to it's original ball shape. It reminded me of trying to cut a sponge or a stress ball with a butter knife. The chewing process was much the same, like trying to eat a stress ball, and to swallow it, I felt it run all the way down to the food tank and it was revolting. Maybe it was something to do with the starch or something? I don't know, but it had also turned a yellow colour, not exactly appealing either.
Throughout the evening the we learnt a few cool songs where you stand up and at the end you all smash your glasses together. I felt like a man singing this song, especially at the end when you yell "PRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOSSSST". Everyone in the beer hall was just as drunk and rowdy as me, so I could be as boisterous as I wanted, it was awesome and one of the best experiences in my life. To say cheers in German depends on the situation. I guess in a drunk, rowdy and beer-drinking mood, you say/bellow ‘prost‘, but maybe in a smaller quieter setting (maybe rich people having a few fake laughs over how much money they can waste with some expensive champagne) you would say ‘zum wohl‘. The list goes on, and in these situations, I just like having cheers for all occasions.
Just as we thought the night couldn’t get any better, four German ladies dressed in the stereotypical Bavarian dress - the dirndl - came out and danced, sang, played songs for us using only different sized bells and the one with the biggest boobs played the glockenspiel using two wooden spoons. I mention the boob bit because I assume that was the point of playing the thing, no-one in the hall was watching her hands. I swear that one of those babies was going to fall out the way they were flopping around. When I thought that was dangerous enough, one of the other German ladies started a clap, and she gradually made the clap faster and faster, henceforth the more violent the boob shaking became. Jesus!
And then! Just as I thought I’d almost officially made this one of the best nights in my life, the four ladies walked out into the audience (Of about 150 people) and each picked someone to go on stage. Being dressed in the clothes I decided to wear, I stuck out a bit, and the oldest of the ladies (I assume she was like the leader) walked up to me and took me on to the stage. I was well on my way to being a mess from the beer and I didn’t really realise what had happened until I was on the stage looking out over everyone. A wave of adrenalin and excitement went over me, but I wasn’t really looking forward to what I may have non-consensually volunteered for. She leant over and gave me a wink and then started going through the dance moves. It was the chicken dance. Before long, the music had started and the 8 of us at the front we ripping the dance apart. It was insanely fun and I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. Toward the end of the song (This seems like a very German thing to do in music apparently) it sped up, to a ridiculous speed, but yet the crowd kept clapping faster. Thankfully, just as my legs were about to fall off, the song stopped. I bid farewell to my new dance partner and returned to my place in the audience. A sensational night out, but it still had not ended. After some further dancing, stein consuming and yelling out PROST in our manliest voices, it was time to pack it up and head off into town.
For anyone who’s been to Munich, or knows anything of it, you probably know of Hofbrauhaus. It’s the most popular, and I think the biggest beer hall in Munich. To give testament to it’s size, as soon as we got through the doors, we took 10 steps and our group of 30+ people was separated into about 5 smaller groups. Our small group had a stein, and decided to go for a walk. It turns out there were multiple floors to this monstrosity and the rest of our group were up the top. Comparing the earlier beer hall to Hofbrauhaus, the earlier one was obviously no-where near as popular. Firstly because I can’t even remember the name, and second, there was only one hall. At Hofbauhaus, there were people EVERYWHERE, and not just Australians either, the people there were from all over the world. Although it was brilliant to go and see, I don’t think I would return any time soon. It was overcrowded, too loud and far too touristy. The first one we went to seemed far more homely and I could imagine more locals going to that one rather than Hofbrauhaus (If the locals even go to the beer halls). After one more stein, it was time for some of us to go home. After a disgusting amount of steins, I was rather sleepy and had to smash up some rest before a big day in the city the next day.
Waking up the next morning, we smashed up the city with full force. For 30 euro we could have taken part in a cycle around the city. I figured I was definitely going to make a return trip to Munich, so decided to not bother with the cycling tour and just hang with the povo gang. After some crappy German coffee and a failed attempt at buying some German bread (Real bread as they call it) we hit up some local markets to try some awesome German food. We walked down one street and of the 15 shops that were on it, about 14 were butchers. These Munich folk absolutely love their meat apparently. There were all sorts of sausages, steaks and chops in here and they all looked sensational. Due to no cooking facilities, there really wasn’t any point in buying any of it…Sighhhh. After a short walk around the little markets, we decided to go and see the most touristy attraction of Munich, the old glockenspiel. Basically, it’s attached to a massive clock in a massive tower and goes off at 5 past every hour (I’m pretty sure) and there are MASSIVE flocks of tourists that go to watch it ever hour. It seemed that there were 1,000 people watching, but 1,500 cameras. The Asian tourists bloody love photographic evidence. Of every tourist attraction I’ve ever come across in the world, this by far is the most overrated. It’s an old crappy, rusty piece of waste of time with not even enough history to make it worthwhile.
After watching 12 minutes of boredom, we decided to go and finalise our costumes for the big dress up party that going to be in another couple nights. Munich has this gigantuous second hand store full of all sorts of goodies. On the way there, we saw a heap of people that were supposed to be on the cycle tour, but had bailed due to the American host being an absolute dick. By complaining to Tara, they’d hoped that he’s lose his job. I’m pretty bloody happy I didn’t sing up for it.
Walking into this second hand store. We were overwhelmed. Two storeys of complete and utter awesomeness. After spending about an hour searching for that “special something”, we all made off with a happy purchase. I tried to try on a couple little one pieces including swimsuits, leotards and although not one piece, still incredibly hot corsets. All of these I wouldn’t have minded if they were tight, but as much I persisted, the little bastards just wouldn’t fit, and so in the end I ended up with a pair of tights that managed to reach up to my arm pits. I think they were actually made for a giant, but fit pretty well on me if I wore them the wrong way.
After having another massive stroll through the city and trying to find Benjamin a button, it was time to jump back on the coach and head off to the old Dachau concentration camp. The drive there was similar to when we were driving to Gallipoli in the sense that everyone had stopped for a while to just reflect and think about where we were actually going.
On arrival, we viewed a film that gave us a better idea of what happened in the camp in regards to the sleeping and working arrangements, the torture, the gas chambers and just the general history of it all. It was a pretty rough movie to watch and although I didn’t see it, a heap of people from Contiki told me that there was some girl sitting there texting on her phone throughout the entire film. If I’d have seen that, I think I would have gone off, is it so hard for someone to take out 10 minutes from their oh-so-busy sociable life to have some bloody compassion and learn something about the world. I guess to some people it’s just another thing to cross off their list of touristy things to do. A concentration camp to me is not a touristy thing to just take pictures of, but rather something of a bit more importance you go to because you actually want to.
Having a walk around the camp we saw the gas chambers and the original and later, more used furnaces. I’d taken a wrong turn and found myself in a church. After everything that happened there, seeing this church made me pretty happy. I guess it’s another step in rebuilding a better future for the Germans, rather than staying in the past and everyone remembering Germany for what happened in the war.
When we had all had enough, we set off back to camp only to find that one poor old chap had his laptop and iPhone stolen from his tent. With this news, everyone ran to their tent to check their belongings. I heard of a few others who’s neatly packed bags had been emptied all over their tents, but due to having no expensive stuff (good move) the thief had moved on. A day earlier, I’d misplaced my padlock and therefore had to leave my stuff just floating around the tent - laptop and passport were my main worries. By some divine miracle, and probably because we’d managed to put our tent in the crappiest position in the campsite, the thief had apparently decided to skip ours. Thank the good bloody lord. All my blogs and pictures were on it, and if they were gone, I wouldn’t be a happy chap.
No-one was in a particular mood to have a big night out, so we decided to throw a Frisbee, kick a ball and have dinner in the rain. Shortly after it was time to cark it a bit earlier than usual, for me, to reflect on everything I’d seen, for others, maybe different reasons. There are times on the trip (Belfast and Gallipoli for starters) where the party stops and you have to hit the big ass wall of reality, face what has happened and remember that life isn’t always bliss in the world and today was another one of those days. It’s not complete sorrow and sympathy, because I remembered of how lucky I am to have not being born in any of those periods of time or in those countries less fortunate. To be able to reflect, rather than live in that moment I’m definitely grateful for. I won’t get too much deeper than that as it’s a thing for me better faced individually.
In the next addition I’ll cover Lauterbrunnen and Jungfrau mountain in Switzlerland, a return journey to Germany when we visit Heidelberg and our grand finale and the destination you’re all probably looking forward to hearing about - Amsterdam in the beautiful country of Holland, or The Netherlands as the locals prefer it to be known.
I’ll catch you bad-booooyyyyzzz on the flippers!
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