This weekend I visited Munich. It seemed different from other European
cities I’ve visited, and perhaps that is slightly due to the very nature of it:
a city rebuilt after World War II but with buildings meant to replicate the
historical buildings of the 1400’s and earlier.
Apparently the Nazis were fervent with their documentation before the
war, taking pictures of exact detailing of buildings for later
replication. It was hard to accept the
tour guide’s explanation that the “building right in front of us was built in
1408” after h
We slept on the 8-hour bus ride to Germany; we were awoken at 8 a.m. and frantically changed in bathroom stalls at the gas stop on the highway to be ready for Oktoberfest. We were behind schedule and had no time for breakfast. We arrived at the hostel at 8:30 and got to Oktoberfest by 9. I hadn’t realized that Oktoberfest, although many other things, is ultimately a fair grounds. People were packed in a space lined by tents and food vendors on either side. I could see a Ferris wheel and other rides up ahead of me. We walked straight into the Hofbrahaus tent, something advised to us by countless friends and relatives who had been to Oktoberfest before. We found some Elon kids but didn’t want to stay with kids we knew – Oktoberfest, I’ve always been told, is about meeting people from all over the world (granted, Hofbrahaus is notoriously the all-English-speaking tent, but still).
We explored a bit and finally found some room at a table with a group of Australians and a group from Wake Forest. This was great: a super well-rounded representation of the world. The Australians were all exuberant and animated – they’d been here for a while. They’d all graduated from the same high school and all shared the same common backstory: they’d graduated from college and then they’d quit their jobs to travel around Europe. They’d been travelling for about 2 years. I resisted the urge to ask them how they could possibly afford it. I found it fascinating that they were all in pursuit of adventure, giving up conventional success in favor of it. In the U.S. it is common to study abroad and it is common to travel throughout Europe for say, a summer after graduation. But it is very rare to hear of an American graduate travelling without an expiration date. Even rarer to hear of one quitting their job right out of college (essentially giving up something they’ve worked their whole education towards, and something necessary to repay loans for that very education), in order to spend their time and their money following a European travel itinerary planned day-of, if at all.
Anyways, so we heard their stories for a while. A guy stumbled to our table during this: balding, goofy-looking, with lederhosen on and a beer in his hand. The Australian sitting beside me leaned over and whispered, “this guy finds us at every country we visit. The only reason we tolerate him is because he was going to buy his girlfriend a house but she dumped him. So now he has plenty of cash that he uses to buy drinks for all of us.” Sure enough, the guy flagged down a waitress and ordered a round (about 12 euro a beer) for the 6 Australian’s we were with. I felt for him and his story, but I could see him the way the Australian’s saw him. He fit the stereotype of the guy you only tolerate because he buys you drinks.
The rest of the day went relatively the same. There were more random friends made that we’d then lose in the crowd moments later. Great hot dogs and chicken (Germany is fantastic at meats). And, of course, beer. We napped most of the afternoon. I loved the experience but staying in a tent all day felt stifling and I wanted to spend the rest of my time exploring Munich.
The next morning we went on a bike tour. This was great. Seeing Munich, or any city, on a bike gives you the perspective of someone who lives there. What it would be like to bike through a garden, to the grocery store, etc. We also covered a lot of ground. We saw a beautiful church and buildings that mirrored what we saw in France. We saw the Hofbrahaus headquarters. Our tour guide, another Australian, was hilarious and very well informed. She joked about how much German’s love their beer, saying it influenced the culture in innumerable ways: she told us a [presumably] true story about a time when Sweden came to take over Munich. Germany attempted to build a wall to stop them, but because Germans are permitted to drink 8 liters of beer per workday, they didn’t make it very far (the wall was about 6 inches high). The Swedes came back and said they wouldn’t take over Munich if Germany could give them money; Germany could not give them money, but they ended up convincing the Swedes to leave with 30,000 (something like that) dollars worth of beer.
Anyways, so the tour was great. One thing I didn’t like (although perhaps it wouldn’t have been appropriate anywhere in Munich) was how seldom any symbol of remembrance for the Holocaust was displayed. Perhaps this is because Munich does not want to be remembered in this way, but it seemed like a slight avoidance of the truth. Anyways, we watched some river surfers for a while. We stopped for an hour for lunch and had half a rotisserie chicken each with French fries. I don’t know how German’s aren’t obese. We sat with the tour lady. She told us she graduated from college and came to travel to Europe as well, similar to our friends from the day before. As she said, “I travelled around for a while. And then I met a boy here in Germany. And so I stayed.” She smiled as if to say, isn’t that always the case? We asked her if she was going to stay in Munich and she said, “oh absolutely not. This really isn’t a place I want to live. We’re saving up enough money to move back to Australia, him and I.” Another Australian in pursuit of nothing but adventure. I wanted to ask her what she wanted to do for work (I don’t think it was be a tour guide) but it always seemed to come second in priority for the Australian’s I met. They’d much prefer a conversation about Europe or travel, so we spoke about that.
After the bike tour, my roommates and I were dying to go to a Starbucks we’d heard about in Munich. I know it’s ridiculous, but it’s been such a long time and we were craving coffee that tasted American. Also, eating or drinking something we’re used to (Subway, for example), is so comforting that sometimes it’s hard to resist. Anyways, so we found a Starbucks and then headed back to Oktoberfest. We had no interest in returning to the tents, but we wanted to try the rides and the food. We rode the Ferris wheel and observed Oktoberfest from a vantage point high above it.
The next day we went to Dachau. The weather was cloudy and cold, which didn’t alleviate the somber mood of Dachau in the slightest (not that it should have). It is one thing to learn about the Holocaust in books and on TV – it is another to walk the grounds the prisoners walked and fell on, to see the beds the prisoners slept and died on. It was horrifically sad because it felt like the mood of Dachau hadn’t changed since and perhaps never would. It was like walking along a cemetery, except the cemetery is only for those murdered.
We drove home through Austria. The small houses, which looked like Monopoly game pieces, scattered the mountains and looked like they grew out of them. The towns along the mountains were wonderfully simple, as humble and beautiful as the trees and rivers around them. A small rusty train at the bottom of the mountain looked more out of place than anything else. I couldn’t imagine what a life here would be like.
On the ride home it dawned on me how lucky I am that happiness comes easily to me: I heard a few kids behind me complaining about things I’d never even realized should have concerned me. They complained about not having wi-fi in the hostel (for what? Why are you so worried about commemorating memories rather than simply making them?); they complained about the weird people and the weird food of Munich; they complained about how uncomfortable the seats were on the bus and how the movie playing was stupid and how expensive the beer had been and how they needed more clothes and it was just so endless. Of course, everyone has different tastes and everyone is entitled to a bad mood: but do they not realize how unproductive it is to sit and bemoan the very little things that do not deserve the power of a thought, never mind the power to determine a mood? I wanted to tell them we are returning from Germany. We are safe and alive and warm and fed. If you focus one second’s thought on any of that, maybe you’ll feel content. Maybe that’ll be a strange feeling for you, but maybe you should try to allow yourself to feel it anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment