in which I meet Brittney in Munich and do and see what the typical American goes to Munich to see. That is to say, Dachau and the Hofbräuhaus. This all takes place on Sunday, October 25–I was simply too busy to blog about it properly when it happened.
Back when Brittney came to visit, I decided that her arrival presented a lovely excuse for me to head to Munich for a couple days,ot lucky, thinking if I got lucky, I could even convince Brittney to go hiking with me, testing out my relatively new Alps guidebook (Mit Bus und Bahn in die Münchner Berge). What followed was a much more typically American experience in Munich than I had ever had. After some transportation disasters, we meet at noon on Marienplatz for our first reunion since Korea. Which, granted, had not been that long before. The day, though rain had been predicted, could not have been more lovely.
We caught up over lunch and then headed out to Dachau on a tour. Probably not how I would have done it, but it was fine, and there were certainly things I might not have noticed had I not had a guide. The concentration camp was predictably depressing, but also extremely well-preserved (most were so completely taken apart that there is little left to see). Certainly it left us with much to think about.
It was interesting to compare notes with our guide, too, who had been living in Munich some four months. At any rate, as our tour came to an end, she handed out surveys, and Brittney had a chance to be completely honest about her motives for coming to Munich:
And with that in mind, the rest of our evening was devoted to more light-hearted (light-headed?) pursuits. Namely, a trip to the famous Hofbräuhaus so loved by Americans. Brittney needed her Maß (the 1 liter of beer). And thus, a couple hours later, we found ourselves with our own liters of beer and toasted to the upcoming week of travel.
At first, it was lovely. We sipped our beer and talked about Bavaria, Germany, and Brittney’s recent travels in Italy. I chatted a bit with our neighbors next to us, Germans from Bamberg, and we ate bratwursts, goulash, and an enormous pretzel.
And then things got a bit more typical. After our lovely German neighbors left, we found ourselves receiving some attention from the raucous English speakers behind us, apparently on a huge drinking tour of Europe. After being asked, we decided to go ahead and join them while Brittney struggled with her beer. They reminded us of all the reasons why I have avoided the institution to date. I think this pictures sums it up well:
That isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy myself or regretted going to the Hofbräuhaus. But it, like Oktoberfest, was more of an experience. A fun one to have, but not one I need to repeat. I was glad to have done it. After a long, valiant struggle, Brittney finished her liter, which impressed me greatly. I didn’t think she had it in her. I, of course, can drink the Maß without a problem, but then again, I have been training for it. Child’s play, really. But I was excessively proud of Brittney, and we commemorated the moment with a photo.
And then, beers finished, we called it a day and headed back to our hostel. And an excellent day it had been.