Into the Heart of Bavaria: Munich

Could travel get any better than Rothenburg ob der Tauber?

Tom and Jim didn’t think so. They were sure that nothing could top the warm, generous hospitality they’d received from Hermann and Linda. But they were eager to sample a different type—Bavarian hospitality in the beer halls of Munich.

First, though, a stop in Neu-Ulm, where they’d arranged to visit Captain William “Billy” Bugert, the older brother of one of Tom’s closest friends from Toledo. Billy was a Ranger stationed at the U.S. Army base.

 By this point, Tom and Jim’s beards were filling in—though still a bit scraggly—and their hair was getting longer and more unkept by the day. They felt more than a little out of place walking around the base, surrounded by clean-cut soldiers who snapped sharp salutes the moment they noticed Billy’s rank.

 “What if they don’t salute?” Tom asked.

“They’d better,” Billy said, with a smile that made Jim want to snap to attention and salute to avoid whatever consequences Billy would visit upon the un-saluting.

The captain’s quarters were modest: a bedroom, a kitchenette, a small dining area, and a living room just large enough to unroll two sleeping bags on the floor. Billy had studied German and managed to land this much-desired post, where he captained a squadron of paratroopers. Thanks to his fluency in German, he knew all the un-touristy places to eat (not that there are a lot of tourists in Neu-Ulm). He took Tom and Jim to his favorite local watering hole. There, he told stories of his many jumps, his soldiers, and his interactions with the locals who, he noted, considered America a ‘young nation.”

Tom and Jim swapped travel stories in return. The beer flowed, as did the stories and the laughter.

Until they got kicked out.

From Jim’s Journal:

On to München

Grateful as they were for Billy’s hospitality, Tom and Jim left Neu-Ulm the next morning—still a bit mystified that they’d managed to get tossed from a restaurant. That hadn’t happened in any of their Notre Dame haunts, or anywhere else, for that matter.

So they shook the dust from their boots and headed south to Munich, the heart of Bavaria.

Bombed heavily in WWII, Munich faced the same challenges that many German cities encountered in 1945: rebuilding their city—and their lives. They apparently did an excellent job with the former, for when Tom and Jim arrived and stepped outside the Munich Train Station, the surroundings looked clean, modern, with not a trace of the destruction visited upon the city just a little over three decades earlier. Tom was really into pedestrian zones, so Munich’s main, KarlsTor sent him into near delirium.

From Tom’s Journal: Karls Tor! The most extensive PEDESTRIAN ZONE in all of Europe. The wonderful people-focused walkway winds all the way through town, past the Frauenkirche with its two onion dome towers to the Glockenspiel in the Town Hall MarienPlatz beyond to its numerous urban parks featuring the Viktualien Beer Gardens and Markets and the English Garden (the largest urban park in the world) to the Isar River where one catches a glimpse of the Deutsches Museum, seemingly the entire Smithsonian, 27 major topics, all it seemed in one building!!!

They dropped their backpacks at the youth hostel, which had warning signs everywhere about a strict curfew and no exceptions to the no-entry rule once the gate was locked. Taking note of the closing time, Tom and Jim made their way to their main destination—Hofbrauhaus.

Octoberfest was over—it was already November—but the beer halls were packed. Tom knew from his Let’s Go Europe that the first Oktoberfest had been held in 1810 to celebrate the wedding of Mad Prince Ludwig. He and Jim grabbed seats at one of the long tables next to a group of young Germans who were celebrating something other than the memory of the Mad Prince—probably a soccer game. Soon, two ginormous mugs of beer (33.8 ounces) were placed in front of them by a buxom blond Bedienungin (server) in full dirndl, the traditional German dress: tight bodice with a deep neckline, puffy blouse, full skirt, and apron. The boys sat in awe as they watched the female servers lift several giant mugs and deliver them to the various tables without (much of) a spill. Fully dressed, yes, but somehow more revealing and enticing than anything Hooters would later dream up.

      Photo Copyright (C) David Sanger 

The table rotated with revelers, but the conversation was easy. Most were Americans and Canadians, so it didn’t take long for stories, laughter, and another round—or several—to keep the mood alive. This was undoubtedly the reason the boys found themselves standing in front of the hostel’s locked gate long after curfew. And why they rudely shook the gates and yelled continuously until someone—after a long lecture in German that didn’t sound like early morning prayers—took pity and let them in..

A short night’s sleep and a long hangover awaited them.

The boys spent three days and two nights in Munich, one of their longer stays in any one place thus far. They took in as much as they could:  The Olympic Village—built from scratch for the 1972 Olympics, just five years before Tom and Jim arrived, and scene of the horrific killing of the Israeli wrestling team and other athletes by Palestinian terrorists. Tom was impressed with how much Munich reminded him of the Scandinavian cities they had visited: pedestrian-only walkways throughout the Alt Stadt (Old Town), an emphasis on urban living for all its citizens, of all ages; no cars in the heart of the city, parking garages out of sight, and a new modern subway system—free—built for the Olympics.

They spent a lot of time in the Schwabing district, famous for its eateries, boutique stores, eclectic beer gardens, and large university student population. They met Carol and Eve from America and spent a good part of the day with them, enjoying the street musicians and even dancing to their music, careful not to step on the creations of the many sidewalk chalk artists.

They also met a young man, Dieter, a graduate student who spoke perfect English and who had not long ago traveled overland through Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, and Pakistan to India, his goal.

Another Overland seed planted.   

Between the restaurants, museums, and beer halls, a financial assessment was needed. After some quick calculations, the boys discovered they were spending approximately $18 a day. Not bad, they reasoned, since the trip so far had been mostly in Northern (and more expensive) Europe. They had decided that once their Eurail passes expired, they would return to the U.K. and tour Wales, Scotland, and Ireland. For that, they figured they’d need about $360 in their pockets (or money belts). And for that to happen, they’d need to get their spending down to about $12 a day. This would not be possible if they spent much more time in Munich. It was time to hit the rails.

But not before one final stop.

Dachau

Just a twenty-minute ride on Munich’s S-Bahn takes you to the infamous Dachau Concentration Camp—without a doubt, one of the most somber moments of their journey, then and now.

What can be written or said about Dachau that hasn’t already been written or said? It won’t be attempted here, except to say that if you have an opportunity to visit Dachau, you must. No person with a conscience or sense of humanity can walk away and not fervently hope for “Never Again.”

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(More on the Overlanders’ reflections on Dachau in the accompanying video.)

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And now for the NOW: Reflections on Munich and Dachau

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