Drinkin' through München
I have never been so drunk in my life.
Let´s Go describes the appeal of München as its "stein-themed" qualities. Uh huh. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that, if you are in your early 20s and you decide to hang out with other expats around your age (or not even your age), your view of München will be colored in shades of beer and tastes of alcohol. My first day in the city included a fantastic bike tour, which included a beer garden stop in the lush and beautiful English Garden. The tour picked up substantially after our guide eached downed a maß bier (1L) and I a halbe bier (.5L). And after the tour, those of us up for a night out, including a group of recent Princeton grads now living in the East Village and George, a new friend and Seattlite, headed to the old-timey Hofbräuhaus, the first beer hall in Bavaria. There, amid umpa bands, rushed waiters and our local tablemate Joseph´s discussions of world politics in English, German and Italian, I enjoyed a maß of my own. And THEN, talk about peer pressure, the Princeton grads and our tour Irish tour guide, Steve, insisted that I join them at a cocktail bar for drinks and shots. After a huge mojito and a few too many shots of some concoction of SoCo and Lime (thank goodness it was a cheap bar!), I stumbled my way back to the hostel. Night one. And no hangover the next morning.
Day two opened with a stroll through the city, with its lovely old-time feel mixed with cosmopolitan energy. I enjoyed a €2, half kilo of delicious peaches for breakfast from a street vendor, found another World Cup baseball cap to replace the "disappeared" one from a week ago and then met up with George for lunch at a local cafe. Where I drank water. Thankfully.
The two of us, on the spur of the moment, decided to visit the Dachau Concentration Camp outside of München. The camp itself is a truly sobering experience, and one that makes tangible for me, in far too disturbing a way, the experience of Nazism. Just following the path into the unused gas chamber (Dachau was the prototype camp, but not a "death camp"), is enough to give me nightmares for the rest of my life. George and I split up and wandered for a good three hours, captured and horrified in ways that I am afraid my typing cannot really capture. The bus and train ride back to the city were silent. We agreed to meet for dinner later that night and headed off to our respective abodes.
That evening, George selected "7 Fish," easily the nicest resaurant I will eat at during this trip. I decided to splurge. And, here´s the downfall, George insisted that he select and pay for the wine. Well, George is a wine expert, with a collection of over 1000 bottles. So, not only was the wine reasonably priced, it was exceptional! Together, over five hours of fascinating conversation and some of the best seafood I have ever had, we shared what amounted to over 2.5L of red wine. We paid, said our goodbyes, and I stumbled back to my hostel. Night two. And no hangover the next morning.
And then there was today. A light day. Only one maß at an amazing beer garden on the outskirts of town. Now, as I sit in an internet cafe, killing time before my 5am train to Berlin (gulp!), I´m realizing what part of the city I actually experienced. Not that I enjoy being that drunk, not that it´s something I particularly want to do a lot, but it is definitely a way of seeing München. I appreciate and love the beauty of the city, the art and culture that exists here (the opera house is breathtaking!) and the brutal history that this town held at one time. However, for me, this visit was about two things: sobering history and giddy, drunken revelry. Polar opposites, perhaps, but a neat look at a city bubbling with culture, history and excesses. And, perhaps, an experience you an only have at 21, when you are resilient enough to wake the next day before 10, brush your teeth, comb your hair and set off to repeat the night before.
Let´s Go describes the appeal of München as its "stein-themed" qualities. Uh huh. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that, if you are in your early 20s and you decide to hang out with other expats around your age (or not even your age), your view of München will be colored in shades of beer and tastes of alcohol. My first day in the city included a fantastic bike tour, which included a beer garden stop in the lush and beautiful English Garden. The tour picked up substantially after our guide eached downed a maß bier (1L) and I a halbe bier (.5L). And after the tour, those of us up for a night out, including a group of recent Princeton grads now living in the East Village and George, a new friend and Seattlite, headed to the old-timey Hofbräuhaus, the first beer hall in Bavaria. There, amid umpa bands, rushed waiters and our local tablemate Joseph´s discussions of world politics in English, German and Italian, I enjoyed a maß of my own. And THEN, talk about peer pressure, the Princeton grads and our tour Irish tour guide, Steve, insisted that I join them at a cocktail bar for drinks and shots. After a huge mojito and a few too many shots of some concoction of SoCo and Lime (thank goodness it was a cheap bar!), I stumbled my way back to the hostel. Night one. And no hangover the next morning.
Day two opened with a stroll through the city, with its lovely old-time feel mixed with cosmopolitan energy. I enjoyed a €2, half kilo of delicious peaches for breakfast from a street vendor, found another World Cup baseball cap to replace the "disappeared" one from a week ago and then met up with George for lunch at a local cafe. Where I drank water. Thankfully.
The two of us, on the spur of the moment, decided to visit the Dachau Concentration Camp outside of München. The camp itself is a truly sobering experience, and one that makes tangible for me, in far too disturbing a way, the experience of Nazism. Just following the path into the unused gas chamber (Dachau was the prototype camp, but not a "death camp"), is enough to give me nightmares for the rest of my life. George and I split up and wandered for a good three hours, captured and horrified in ways that I am afraid my typing cannot really capture. The bus and train ride back to the city were silent. We agreed to meet for dinner later that night and headed off to our respective abodes.
That evening, George selected "7 Fish," easily the nicest resaurant I will eat at during this trip. I decided to splurge. And, here´s the downfall, George insisted that he select and pay for the wine. Well, George is a wine expert, with a collection of over 1000 bottles. So, not only was the wine reasonably priced, it was exceptional! Together, over five hours of fascinating conversation and some of the best seafood I have ever had, we shared what amounted to over 2.5L of red wine. We paid, said our goodbyes, and I stumbled back to my hostel. Night two. And no hangover the next morning.
And then there was today. A light day. Only one maß at an amazing beer garden on the outskirts of town. Now, as I sit in an internet cafe, killing time before my 5am train to Berlin (gulp!), I´m realizing what part of the city I actually experienced. Not that I enjoy being that drunk, not that it´s something I particularly want to do a lot, but it is definitely a way of seeing München. I appreciate and love the beauty of the city, the art and culture that exists here (the opera house is breathtaking!) and the brutal history that this town held at one time. However, for me, this visit was about two things: sobering history and giddy, drunken revelry. Polar opposites, perhaps, but a neat look at a city bubbling with culture, history and excesses. And, perhaps, an experience you an only have at 21, when you are resilient enough to wake the next day before 10, brush your teeth, comb your hair and set off to repeat the night before.
posted by Ethan at 7:02 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home