Munich

We got to Munich in one piece, bought subway passes, and went into the city to what we thought was our hostel, but it turns out that our hostel was right next to the train station. So, we dragged our luggage back to the subway, backtrack, and are consulting the map when a very nice older Englishman asks us if we need help. We say that we’re looking for the Locarno and think that it’s right over there, and point. “Well, you didn’t need my help at all, did you?”

            We go there, check in, and head out for a little sight-seeing in Munich.

            Munich is a very nice city, to which the closest comparison would be Dresden. Like Dresden, it has a lot of history, but it does not seem to be consumed by it as much. One thing about Munich, at least when we were there, is that it was filled with construction everywhere. “This is how Merkel keeps people working,” said Neil.

            We pass the impressive Palace of Justice and head into the historical part of town. The first thing we see there is St. Michael’s Church. It’s under construction, so we can’t really see the outside, but the inside is gorgeous, another wedding cake church, white and gold and bright and open.

            Afterwards, we proceed to Asamkirche, a church “not for anyone with ADD,” according to Kyle. Small and ornate, it is packed with filigree and odd decorations. One feature is the mummy wrapped in jewels.

            We then saw the Frauenkirche, partly under construction, with its domed twin towers. Almost completely destroyed in WWII, it’s not much to look at inside (though I did get an usher giving me a finger wag for no discernible reason).

            The next place we saw was Marienplatz, a square surrounded by impressive sites. One was the Neues Rathaus, awesomely ornate and with the town’s Glockenspiel with dancing figurines. Also there is the Altes Rathaus (old town hall), and St. Peter’s.

            We pass by the National Theater (also under construction), and see the Residenz Apartments (also under construction), where the Bavarian dukes used to live. We follow that (it takes up a whole block) to the Theatinerkirche, a church with a whole bunch of police officers and a priest questioning a guy outside of it. “Let’s…avoid this crowd,” said Neil. So I went in a different entrance. Turns out there was a protest in there, something about Turkey, and some tension was resulting. “This is a church!” one of the visitors said. The church itself was gorgeous, another wedding cake church, white and bright and huge, surprising after seeing its distinctively mustard exterior.

            Walking the rest of the way around the Residenz, we spot the Staatskanzlei, and make our way to the Hofbrauhaus, a famous beer hall where Hitler himself staged political events, an oompa band still plays, and Mozart and Lenin were said to be regulars. We all get sausage and kraut, when Kyle looks over and says, “This place is really touristy.” Because who should it be but the Whitest Family on Earth from the train (or as Neil calls them, “The Brady Bunch”) puzzling over a menu. “Do you need an English menu?” I ask. “Yes…oh!” says mom as she recognizes me. We get them the menus and I say, “I guess we’re just meant to help you today.” After we finish eating, Neil says to them, “See you later.”

            Now, we had ventured into the city knowing that Germany was playing in the Eurocup that night and, while nothing like Berlin, we had our fair share of soccer hooligans and broken bottles. After dinner, we realized that we were headed into the heart of the beast, Olympic Park. We went there to see the stadiums, which were quite cool, but there was also a giant screen set up to watch the game. So we got to see what 100s of soccer fans look like (by the way, they lost to Italy, which means that Italy will probably be consumed when we go).

            Finally, we head trek to see the impressive Nymphanberg Palace as it starts to get dark.

            By this time, I’m pooped. We take public transport back to the hostel where I basically collapse.