Getting Germanic

My excursion through the Germanic countries started off with an adventure. On the night train from Budapest, I had a cabin to myself. And knowing that Vienna was only a short ride away, and thus I needed to get off the train in the middle of the night, I foolishly laid down for "just a few minutes" of shut eye. And, of course, I woke up about five minutes after the train departed from Vienna. So, I asked the kind steward what to do and he said I could get off at the next stop and find another train back. The only problem was that the next train back to Vienna was not for another few hours. So, after departing the train at Sankt Polten, I napped a few hours and waited for the next inter-city train back to Vienna. And, at four thirty in the morning, I hopped aboard with some early commuters and rode in to the city as the sun was rising and illuminating the Austrian countryside with the first rays of the day. The sky started a brilliant purple and slowly made its way through red and into a bright and clear summer morning, just as I arrived in Vienna. Though tired, I carried on and, after leaving my bags in a locker at the station, headed into the city center. There I consulted Trip Advisor, and headed for a cafe renowned for its melange coffee and sakertorte cake. That sounded like breakfast to me, and it was a fabulous one. The chocolate decadence paired with the coffee will brighten any morning, guaranteed. So off I strode, through the Austrian capital and, as the fine morning developed into a beautiful summer day, I wandered the parks of the city, taking in the fantastic architecture and beautiful gardens of the city. About mid-morning, as I was searching for another cafe, I was consulting a public map when a polite, older American woman approached asking for directions. We chatted a few minutes and checked the map together as she sought out an antique bookshop nearby. It was a pleasant conversation and we got her headed in the right direction before bidding adieu, happy to make a lovely acquaintance. On I trotted that day, out to the magnificent Schonbrunn castle and its incredible grounds, back to the city center, and then out to the north side of Vienna for some classic wienershnitzel and a beer to cap off the day. The meal was wonderful as I watched the hordes of Viennese lounging in the sun and playing in the lake from the waterfront restaurant. What a great tour of a fabulous European city.

That evening I headed back to the train station for a night of roughing it, as I was planning an early departure for Innsbruck to see my friend Gabby. The night started well until the station attendant informed all of us attempting to sleep in the lobby that the station closed for a few hours and we needed to find other accommodation. So, I wandered the streets of Vienna and caught a little shut eye on the platform before catching a morning train to Wolf in der Au, just outside of Vienna. From here I attempted, unsuccessfully, to hitchhike to Innsbruck. As the hours passed, the likelihood of hitching a ride dwindled and I realized that the more time I spent waiting for a ride, the less time I had to hang with my friend Gabby. So, I conceded defeat around midday and headed back to catch the train onward to Innsbruck. In between naps on the long ride I was in awe of the Austrian countryside and knew that what awaited me in the Austrian Alps would be a truly special sight. And it did not disappoint. After meeting with Gabby off the train, we headed back to her place to drop off my bags before a quick tour of the city and a bit of catching up. The old town of Innsbruck is small, but beautiful and we wandered the alleys and checked out the shops for a while before heading to a locals-only restaurant tucked into a residential district. As the sun set, we sat amongst the locals and were invited to the table of a local woman dining solo who chatted with us, and insisted that I try some of her cold cheese and sauerkraut dish that was quite tasty. I had an incredible potato hash, at her recommendation, and we washed it down with some local beer. Throughout the meal, she chatted with us about her USA-based brother who was coming to visit in the summer and, by the end of our meal, invited us to stay with her should we ever be back in Innsbruck for a vacation. We wandered back to Gabby's house and enjoyed a bottle of wine as the light dimmed to end a wonderful day in Austria.

The next morning, we made a great meal of pancakes, eggs and a fruit salad. It was nice to get back in the kitchen after so many months of eating nearly exclusively at restaurants. After the meal, Gabby headed to work for a meeting while I did some laundry, and we met again in the afternoon for a hike. Up we headed into the Alps, bound for a summer restaurant on the hills overlooking Innsbruck for lunch. It was about an hour walk each way, and winding through the woods reminded me of the hiking in the Northwest. The smell of pines sweating in the heat and the foothills landscape gave me a pang of homesickness, but also a warm reminder of what awaited me back home. We made it to Rumer Alm, the lunch spot of choice for the afternoon and had a light lunch. I chose the roast beef with mustard and bread, washed down with a beer and Gabby opted for the radish and bread. Both were fantastic, light summer meals and we walked back to town refreshed. We rested for the heat of the day before heading back into town for a drink and some light dinner along the Inns river, before another evening stroll through the bustling old town.

The next morning, I was bound for Munich, but not until midday. So, while Gabby worked in the morning, I headed for breakfast of a piece of apfelstrudel at a local shop followed by some final wandering through Innsbruck on another gorgeous morning. Gabby and I met up and we bid farewell as I left for the train station and my next destination: Munich.

The beautiful train ride terminated at Munchen Hauptbanhof on the beautiful afternoon of June 20, my birthday. After exchanging some messages with my hostess, and one of my oldest friends, Ciara, I followed her directions to meet near her apartment. After dropping my bags, we headed out to meet up with some of her friends for my first trip to a biergarten. We shared some conversation with her friend Courtney and Courtney's friends Matt, Sean and Neil over a Mass Heller--one liter of cold, crisp German beer--while enjoying the afternoon sun and watching the fascinating Germans socializing on a fine afternoon. After one beer, we decided a quick tour of the city center was in order for Ciara and I before meeting up again at Hofbrauhaus, the main brewery of one of Munich's six official breweries. We spent the evening chatting, people watching, singing drinking songs and, of course, drinking beer. After a few filling liters of beer over the course of the evening, we headed home to call it a night.

The next day, I met up with Courtney and her three friends to take a tour of Dachau, the Nazi concentration camp just outside Munich. We spent a somber and powerful two hours walking the camp. It was not a large camp, with the prisoner dormitories occupying the space of a few football fields, but it housed thirty thousand prisoners at its height. Learning of the cruelties and standing on the grounds where some of the greatest human atrocities in history were committed was a sad reminder of what some humans are capable of. The most chilling part of the self-guided tour was the crematorium, built just outside the prisoner housing grounds. It was here that prisoners were told they were being showered to be transferred to a different facility, but when they entered the showers, they never came out.  First, they were gassed, and then burned in the ovens. The volume was so significant that the Nazis had to build a bigger oven to handle the ever-increasing demand for cremation. The stories of children being abused, tortured and surrounded by death and despair was another particularly troubling experience. Yet there was something inspiring in the stories of prisoner doctors helping fellow inmates who the Nazis were happy to let die slow gruesome deaths; and of prisoners who had good relationships with their Nazi captors and used that privilege to smuggle needed goods like food and medicine to their fellow inmates. There were stories of hope among the despair, and it is truly powerful to see monuments and museums built to remind us to never make the same mistakes again as humans, yet also to inspire us that no matter the challenges, humans rise to the occasion and unite to oust evil in favor of good. Back in Munich, we headed for pizza in town, before walking through the parks of Munich to see the surfers who flock to a specific spot in the river where a damn creates a surf-able current. Wandering through the park, we stopped, very briefly, to notice that on the far bank of the river was a sizable group of sunbathers enjoying the sun au natural. This part of Munich's main park is a well-utilized nudist area, dominated unsurprisingly by males. Finally we ended in the Chinese garden for another Mass Heller and some conversation over the afternoon, where we also tried the weisswurst, the traditional Bavarian white sausage. From there we were off, first for a dinner of doner kebab near the Hauptbanhof then to another biergarten for some more beer and conversation. We biergarten-hopped the rest of the night before bidding farewell to Courtney's friends, as they were off back to the states the next day.

On Saturday, we headed out to the outskirts of Munich on the S-Bahn for a hike to the old hill town of Andech to celebrate the birthday of another of Ciara's friends. It was quite a fun experience, especially the first hour as we were brutally molested by swarms of mosquitoes as the first part of the hike passed through a swampy area. It was definitely worthy of a few laughs as we all wrapped our jackets up tightly around our heads hiding every inch of skin we could. Ciara's beau Al and I had the worst time, especially as I was wearing shorts, but we made it through and ended up with a fantastic view of the Bavarian countryside as we enjoyed our sausage and beer lunch. After the festivities, we headed back to Munich for a dinner at Al's place, having to hustle back to town to get to the grocery store to buy the necessary goods before its inconveniently early closing of eight in the evening. But make it we did, and headed to Al's, along with Ciara's roommate Klaas, for some chili, rice and salad. We followed it with Lost in Translation, with only a few of us making it to the end, before sprinting to catch the last bus home for the night.

Sunday we relaxed, finally getting out and about for some biergarten-hopping and skyped with folks back home, ending the day with watching Spain play Nigeria in Confederation's Cup action. Finally, on Monday I headed for the bus station bound for my next destination: Koln.

After the nine hour bus ride through the stormy, but picturesque German countryside, I made it to Koln around ten in the evening with no place to stay. My first destination was somewhere with wifi, and luckily a Mexican restaurant was open with decent chips and salsa and, more importantly, the much desired wifi. So, I scoped out the hostel scene online before deciding on my next destination across town. Off I headed on foot across the city, stopping on the bridge over the Rhine for a magnificent view of the Gothic cathedral, northern Europe's largest. I made it to the hostel on the west side of the city center around twelve in the evening. Luckily they have 24-hour reception! I was checked in for the night and settled in trying not to disturb my fast-asleep roommates.

The next day, after changing rooms to another in the same hostel, I headed out for a walk, getting coffee and pastries at a local bakery before heading out for a walk. I started at the city center, browsing the shops--including the seven H&Ms in four blocks--and then made my way to the cathedral. There I got a better look at the beautiful church, including examining the beautiful interior with its high vaulted ceilings and fabulous ornamentation. Next I headed for the north part of the city to check out the scene. There I wandered through the large park and checked out the unique neighborhoods, even stumbling upon a model and photographer shooting in the fading afternoon light. With my feet exhausted, back I headed to the hostel to rest out the day.

Wednesday, I met my new roommates; three young Canadian fellows on a summer trip through Europe. We parted for the day, as I went off for another tour through Koln, stopping at cafes and the park along the way to soak in the fresh summer sun and exploring different parts of the city. In the evening, when I returned to the hostel, my roommates had burned through three bottles, and were struggling a bit as they negotiated the opening of their fourth bottle without a corkscrew. Nevertheless, they were undeterred in their mission to have a fantastic night. They invited me along, to which I declined, but invited them to watch the latest Confederation's Cup match at a local bar before they took off for their night out. They accepted and out we headed, after they polished off the fourth bottle which they managed to open with a padlock, with minimal help from me, to the nearest sports bar. And it just so happened, that the Brazil v. Uruguay game was playing and this particular bar we went to happened to be full of Brazil fans. So, we ordered a beer and joined the raucous crowd who cheered loud when Brazil took the early lead. My new friends, and not very interested soccer observers, were itching to get their dance on, so they took off just before half after Brazil settled into a comfortable lead. I did the same, searching for a lower-key and cheaper place to watch the second half. I did not have to walk far to find a nice quiet bar to see out Brazil's victory over neighbors and rivals Uruguay. Afterwards, I headed back for the evening, stopping to check emails in the lobby of the hostel before retiring for bed. And who stumbled in just after me? My roommates who regaled me with tales of the uneventful nightlife and strange happenings in Koln for a bit before we all headed up to crash. Quite an amicable trio of lads, and I wish them well on their European summer adventures.

The next day, I was off to the bus station for a 6:00 bus to Brussels and my last adventures on the European continent. The unremarkable bus ride passed through the German and Belgian countrysides and landed me in Brussels just after midday. I settled into the hostel just inside the Old City. After checking out the different parts of the Old City all afternoon, I sought out a venue to watch the semifinal between Spain and Italy in the Confederation's Cup, and had to settle on splitting it. First, after walking into and straight out of a particularly dingy and uninspiring pub, I eventually found a nice small bar playing the game on a tiny television with a surly barmaid and locals bickering amongst each other across the room. The beer was cold and the picture crisp, so this sufficed for the first half. But, by the time halftime rolled around, I was ready to move on, and headed down to the local Irish Pub to see if they had it on. And, of course they did. Unfortunately, however, every other expat in the city knew this too, and I was crammed amongst the masses watching the game. One particular Italian fan was quite disgruntled after every change of possession not in his team's favor. That was almost as entertaining as watching a grinding result which Spain just barely won on a penalty shootout. After the match, we all cleared out and I headed back to the hostel to crash.

Friday I started with a bagel breakfast before making my way to the local laundromat to do some much needed laundry. After the washing, I headed back to the hostel and dumped my laundry, and was off to walk as much of the city as I could. I walked all around Brussels, up to the giant Palace of Justice, around to the European Parliament and through the various parks of the city, stopping only for brief culinary delights like pommes frites avec mayonaise and waffles. Through the afternoon I continued, stopping at parks for a bit of reading before heading onward, walking past the latest Dinner In the Sky destination on the west end of the Old City. A quiet, but entertaining day in Brussels.

Saturday, my last, started in a waffle shop in the ritzy Galerie Royales, where the tourists mixed with the older local couples reading the paper and chatting about local events. As I spent the morning finishing travel planning for the remainder of my trip, I even saw a group of old women come on for their usual outing. It made me wish I had practiced more French to eavesdrop on what must have been an entertaining discussion and gossip by the pleasant ladies. After breakfast, I headed out for a last walk around town, and stumbled into a beer museum. So, of course I took the five euro tour which included a glass of the local beverage. However, this was a disappointingly cheap tour. So, I consulted my map and found the local brewery making authentic lambic. It was there I headed next for a far greater tour of the fascinating Belgian beer making history and the equally as fascinating but far less satisfying tasting of original Belgian lambic. The framboise was a step in the right direction, but the tour guide who noted that some compared the taste of lambic to that of vomit was not entirely inaccurate. An interesting, and unique, experience to remember in Belgium.

Late that evening, I was greeted at the bus station by a feisty tattooed Brit bus driver and after a little commotion, we were England bound. A few hours later after driving through the peaceful night countrysides of Belgium and France, we finally ended up at the Chunnel loading station in Calais, France. After being roused at three in the morning, we headed into the U.K. Customs checkpoint as we prepared to exit the Schengen Treaty zone of Continental Europe and enter the home of the Pound Sterling. I don't know if it was the ungodly hour, the months of traveling or a combination, but I nearly wept in joy at hearing pure English by a Customs official. The joy did not last long as we waited in a queue for twenty minutes just to be confronted by a grizzly scene of three Customs queues. Two of these queues were staffed by two surly Brits who were not happy to be checking confused tourists into their country at three in the morning. The third queue, however, was manned by a kindly gentleman, who despite being bombarded with whole families of confused folks, maintained his good cheer and calmly asked the questions needed to get people through the border and patiently awaited their responses, assisting when needed. As I moved closer to the front of the line, I lamented the fact that I was unlikely to pass through the happy gentleman's queue--as he appeared to be in the middle of assisting a particularly confused family--and instead be seen by one of the surly folks. But, in an overly dramatized twist of fate, his queue opened as I stepped forward, and I was greeted by the happiest gentleman I had encountered in quite some time. After a few routine questions, he checked me through, wished me a good trip and I was on my way. As I settled back into my seat on the bus and we headed onto the Chunnel, I fell asleep dreaming about the upcoming adventures in London Town.