Misty Munich!

We woke up early Sunday morning, bags already packed, and a sense of excitement in the air. At least, that’s how the morning was for me. I woke Dale up about ten minutes before we had to leave and he threw the rest of his stuff together, and then we ran through the crispy orange leaves outside to the bus stop. Luckily for us, the bus flew through town, and we got through airport security with no trouble apart from Dale stopping in the metal detector instead of walking all the way through, and the big lady officer saying, “Saint’s preserve us!” in a very exasperated voice. We bought sandwiches or salads, a snack, and drinks from the Boots in the airport, which was a good deal that I remembered from my first Europe trip. We napped on the plane, and in two hours dipped below the clouds and out of the dazzling sunlight. It turns out it was really foggy under that layer of cloud; Germany looked green, wet, and shockingly like home. We left the airport expecting to see taxis, buses, and people everywhere. Instead, there was nothing. Oh shit. We needed to catch a train in about ten minutes, which was on the other side of the small town and not across from the airport. After a little dithering and stressing, we leaped at the next cab to arrive before it’s passengers had even disembarked. I smiled at the driver a few times to make sure she had seen us, but it took a minute to figure out who the driver was because she got out of the Canada-side of the car. We were relieved when she spoke a little English, and more relieved when she made a radio-call and could actually resume duty and take us to the train. Clearly there is no harm in asking! We got to the train right in time, but 12 euros shorter. After we got moving, the ticket collector came around and we could only stare at him blankly. I think that was the first moment we felt how truly unprepared for Germany we were. I still have no idea what he said, but there was a word that sounded something like “tickets” and he didn’t kick us off after checking them. Also, our tickets were in German. Honestly, I'm not sure how we managed to get back to Ireland.

A stein bigger than my head

One train switch later and the views of misty fields and red-roofed houses with long eaves began to turn to concrete. Munich station was hectic. I could hardly get out of everyone’s way to check our hostel’s instructions without getting run over. Eventually we found a tourist information place outside and bought a map for 40 cents. This helped us figure out that the Smart Stay Hostel wasn’t far away. In fact, it was also only a two minute walk from the Oktoberfest grounds. We checked in with a busty girl in a Heidi-type dress, paid for our tidy room, claimed some top bunks, stored our stuff in small cubbies which we had cleverly thought to bring locks for, and then we went straight to Oktoberfest. It was the last day after all, and we wanted to take in as much of it as we could. At first it just looked like hundreds of people walking down a packed street with a few carnival rides on either side. I started to feel like the legendary massive steins of beer must be necessary in order to keep people friendly rather than frustrated at the packs of people who keep cutting them off. So we looked around for somewhere to eat and grab a drink.

More than possible!

The Oktoberfest Atmosphere

The first place we walked into practically made my jaw drop. The so-called “tent” was a massive building with a peaked ceiling and hundreds of people in traditional Bavarian costumes dancing and singing on tables. I felt like they must have gotten onto the tables as a way to fit more people into the building. It was not just a figure or two in the spotlight. Those are some sturdy tables. We walked around the entire building, Dale marvelling at the hundreds and hundreds of chickens on spits in the kitchens. I thought it was impressive how the waitresses were carrying the massive steins at least five to each hand. There’s a litre of beer in each of those, not to mention the hefty weight of the glass itself! After a tour of the building, we found ourselves right back outside, a little dazed to say the least. So we set off for a bier garten and soon spotted one lone table to snag. The next problem was ordering our drinks, but it turned out not to be a problem. Dale said to the waiter, “Two chickens and two beers.” He gave us a knowing smile and came back in minutes with half a chicken each, sauerkraut, and the massive steins, which set us back 50 delicious euros. Eventually a German couple joined us on our wooden benches, and all we could do was nod and gesture that they were welcome. For a while I’m sure they thought we were German because now and then they threw conversation our way and our only response could be smiles, nods, and apologetic shrugs. On the other hand they might not have noticed because they appeared to be a few steins in.

Hackerzelt

Having a grand ol' time

As the night grew dark and the rides lit up, we bought some haselnüsse, which were roasted nuts that I never expected to be so delectable—we ended up going back for more—and then adopted an abandoned umbrella before Dale bought an apple cigar in exchange for going to Barcelona next month, bought another litre of beer each, and eventually found ourselves inside the magnificent Hackerzelt tent. The size was truly astounding and I later learned it could hold up to 10,000 people. 10,000 people who were standing arm in arm on tables and singing at the top of their lungs beneath a layered blue ceiling with cut out clouds looking something like a puppet show set. We managed to get up onto a balcony overlooking the scene and joined a group standing on their benches to shout the last round of a slow German song that no one seemed to want to end. People kept setting everyone off again even when the lights came on because no one wanted to go home, and I count myself as one in their number.

I didn't want to leave either

That night at the hostel I was sleeping over top of a drunken lawnmower. Even Dale on the other side of the room couldn’t sleep because of the guy. It was brutal. So the next morning we awoke poorly rested and wandered down the street to find some sustenance. We found a tiny, tiny sandwich shop with a smiling man who thankfully spoke a little English and looked like a greyer version of my Uncle Dave. I don’t know what I ate, but it was delicious, and so was the vanilla chai tea latte he made. We went back in to pack our lunches, and returned the next day as well to find that he already knew exactly what Dale was going to order. Afterwards we visited the tourist information place at Munich station again and asked how to get to Dachau Concentration Camp. The girl behind the counter gave us a brochure and sent us to the train station, where we went to another information booth and bought an all day transit pass, which included buses, as well as our train tickets for our adventure the next day. Then we needed to figure where to get the ticket validated, so we wandered around until we found a worker, who, bizarrely to a Canadian, spoke German and Spanish. We ended up miming what we were after and he managed to help us out.

Dachau Concentration Camp/Memorial

Behind the gate, where roll call was conducted

Beds in the Bunker

It didn’t take long to arrive in Dachau, but then we needed to take a bus to the actual memorial, which took another half hour including the wait. It was creepy to think that we were piling on a bus to a concentration camp. When we arrived we bought audio devices for 3 euros each, then progressed to the prison. We entered through the black iron gates, which read, “Work will set you free,” to find a huge expanse of misty gravel where brutal roll calls used to be held daily. That particular day was cold enough to make my hands freeze on the audio device and I could well imagine what it must have been like in winter for the poorly-clad prisoners. We read more horrifying information than we could sustain in the museum, including the detailed experiments inflicted on the Jewish prisoners to further the knowledge of hypothermia and other conditions for the Nazi army. Knowing that we only had until closing at five o’clock, we had to move on before we were more than a quarter of the way through. The re-built bunkers showed how cramped and brutal the sleeping conditions were. The fences themselves could only be reached after a steep embankment, and used to be electrified. Apparently desperate prisoners would commit suicide by throwing themselves against the barbs. Behind the last of the bunkers there used to be a brothel, which, to be honest, disturbs me more than anything else. I at least expected the crematorium and gas chamber—which allegedly was never used for mass killings—but I can’t imagine how those poor women must have suffered, or why I’ve never heard of them until now. Was there really someone lower in the minds of the Nazis than their male prisoners?

Each gravel slab going into the distance used to be a bunker

The Crematorium including the gas chamber

Inside the Crematorium

The Barracks

The Crematorium was a stage for executions as well as cremation. There were rooms on either end of the building that were often piled hundreds high with bodies, which was awful to image as I walked through. Walking through the gas chamber was just as bad. It was dark and disguised as a large shower. Even if it wasn’t used, the evil intent was as clear as the daylight that couldn’t get in. Behind the building were two mass graves, which were adorned with carefully pruned shrubs and crosses in memoriam. We finished up the tour with a walk-through of the Barracks. Prisoners were hung from poles by their arms for days in tiny rooms, often never recovering from their injuries. Despite the desperately depressing nature of the prison, there was also the story of the day the Americans came to free the prisoners, and the recounts of cigarettes and crackers thrown to the cheering people within. Then there were stories of German soldiers and doctors who risked their lives to save others in secrecy. Before visiting, the horror stories seemed quite unreal. Now I feel that I have a better appreciation of the suffering that the prisoners faced in light of visiting the actual ground on which much of it happened.

"A Grave of Countless Thousands"

Residenz

We returned to Munich to explore the city and let our minds relax after all the morbidity we had inflicted on ourselves. We visited Residenz, the parliament buildings, but didn’t get to see the little figures in the clock moving about at five. We made sure to visit the massive English Gardens before finding a little pub for some amazing schnitzel and strangely textured cake covered in a warm vanilla sauce. Reading the menu was impossible, but the waiter was patient. Eventually we made conversation with a group of tourists next to us, including a Canadian from Toronto who, when we said we were from BC, replied, “Ah, the better half of Canada!” After dinner we took the Underground to the Olympic Park and wandered around the nearly deserted grounds, eyeing the massive swimming pool and stadiums under the canopy-like glass.

The English Gardens

The Olympic Stadium

Neuschwanstein

A view of the countryside

There was one loud snore from the lawnmower that night, and I nearly started praying. “No, no, no!” but then he fell silent. We had a bathroom to share between the eight of us in that room, but I ended up dressing under my blankets the next morning because the line-up was too long. Dale and I made our way to the train station, and because we had packed so lightly, ended up sitting for two hours with nothing to do. In the end we did Sudokus and tried to beat each other’s times until his phone died. From the train, we had to take a another bus to a little village, where we spent forever in line to buy tickets to Neuschwanstein castle. We took a break to eat German-Uncle-Dave’s sandwiches by a lake, then took a gentle hike up to the castle. It was built in 1869 for King Ludwig the Second of Bavaria. It was also the inspiration for the castle in Walt Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, and was the home of the villian from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Inside was sheer opulence. Nearly every inch of wall was painted or carved with intricate gold designs or painted myths such as Tristan and Isolde. It was clear Ludwig was a lover of stories (including Edgar Allan Poe’s) when we walked through an artificial cave he had built connecting his chambers to another part of the castle. We enjoyed the misty view of the countryside from one of the balconies, and I also enjoyed waving to a little girl down below who seemed thrilled. After the tour, which was incredibly short for the 11 euros each, we decided to take some trails in the forest, one of which led to a bridge called Marienbrücke that stood between two of the most sheer cliffs I have ever seen and gave the best view of the castle as a whole—or it would have if it hadn’t been completely obscured by a massive wall of fog. With a little patience, however, the fog cleared enough for some hastily snapped photos.

The waterfall and bridge above

Marienbrücke (the bridge Ludwig named after his Mum)

I wasn't kidding about the fog!

And with a little patience!

Proof that we were there

As much of the amazing scenery as we could fit in one picture!

Who knew a map could be cute?

Later, Dale and I wandered an unknown route back to the village, and eventually walked up to Schloss Hohenschwangan, a Spanish-looking castle that is now a museum, and was the reason Ludwig wanted his own castle as a child. We couldn’t go in without tickets, but we did wander quietly through some open doors. Mostly, however, we stuck to the battlements, where the gardens could be found. I also found a large frog in the fountain. Then we walked back to the lake, bought a pretzel and a slice of pizza that had gone cold, and then caught the bus back. Unfortunately our train was an hour

The little village

away, so we wandered through the village looking for somewhere to eat, but couldn’t find anywhere that wasn’t overpriced. Still hungry, we got on the train and put our exhausted feet up. We were both asleep when the ticket guard came by and shouted, “Your feet! Is dirty!” and made us jump out of our skins. We hastily patted the dirt away as he checked our tickets, but he seemed perfectly polite after that, so maybe getting shouted awake in German is scarier than it’s meant to be. Or maybe he knew we were on the wrong train, because we certainly didn’t end up in Munich. Starving and

Schloss Hohenschwangan

tired, we shivered on the platform when they told us it was the last stop, and jumped without question onto the next train to Munich. We ended up accidentally sitting in first class on a double-decker French train that fired its way though the night until we were back in Munich in the blink of an eye, and before anyone could catch us. We ate giant grey sausages on tiny hotdog buns and rock-solid fries for dinner in the train station, then returned for one last night at the hostel.

Gnomes

We returned to the station early the next morning, worried that we might miss our flight if we couldn’t get our tickets changed to an earlier time. It was with tremendous relief that we found the change would be easy to make. So we took the train to Memmingen, stuck in a compartment full of girls who took loud pictures of themselves constantly. But when we left I smiled at them and one said the only word she knew in English, "Cheers!" and I replied, "Aufiderzein!" I think we were both pleased with ourselves. We were able to easily find a taxi this time, then got to the airport early for our flight, which was a little turbulent, and by the time we were flying over Ireland, I had a full-fledged, stuffed-up-nose cold. I have never contracted a cold so fast in my entire life. We had an amazing view of Ireland, however, as the plane finally cleared the clouds and we saw the sun shining on cliffs that looked like the thick black lines of a colouring book, with the deep greens richly painted in. Unfortunately we then had more than an hour’s bus ride since it was rush-hour, and we were again starving by the time we could gratefully collapse onto the couch at home. Which was another weird thought, considering it wasn’t Canada.

I love a train with compartments!

The rest of the week was spent saying goodbye to Viv at Fitzgeralds before he headed over to England, as well as looking for jobs, having a movie night with Niall, Leonie, and her friend Claire. And for Dale, working. I was happy the radiators were on at last. At least I got to be toasty warm with a cold. Then I got a call for my second interview for a wait staff job at the Conrad Hotel. It would be Monday at 11:30. I remembered at the last minute that my first interviewer had said I would need to bring references, while the lady who called me hadn’t mentioned it, so I spent Monday morning rushing around collecting the information I needed. I seem to have a good support system here in Ireland, however, and Leonie’s dad Barry was immediately on the case with a reference for the market research I helped him with, and Roisin was happy to say that I was an exemplary employee for her event company. I made the interview with only two minutes to spare. I sat down with a man and woman, who said they usually do three interviews at the Conrad, but since they were hoping to start training on Thursday they thought they would sit together and hoped I wouldn’t be intimidated. I didn’t feel like they asked me many questions, but I expressed my interest in learning Irish since they offer language courses, and I think they were once again happy to hear that. It turns out they called my references that day—at least my Irish ones—and they called me before five o’clock to offer me the job! Now I have my fingers crossed that Heather’s third interview goes well tomorrow and we can train together. After a little jumping around, squealing, and answering phone calls and texts from my happy references and family, the power went out. What? I was relieved to find that it was the whole street after calling our substitute landlord since Catherine is away at the moment—talk about bad timing. We had also just bought groceries the day before and I shuddered to think about them going to waste. Plus, one of the loads of laundry I’d been doing all day was sopping wet. I’m just happy I managed to get the dryer working on the rest of it for once. We went to Fitzgeralds for our Monday social, which was quite quiet this time, and returned to find everything back in order. Wunderbar! That’s certainly something to be thankful for on this non-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving!