Guess spraining an ankle does have its perks after all... Wheelchair tours of the airport, having an entire row of the plane to myself, door-to-door chauffeuring, delicious meals placed at my fingertips and even increased water-saving capacity (you try showering on one leg for more than five minutes, dear reader – I just about killed my other ankle too).
But I’ve been productive. Oh yes, less frolicking time equals more time for serious things. You know, playing violin, making dumplings, baking biscuits, eating dumplings, eating biscuits, cutting hair, watching movies... Alright, finishing uni assignments and starting exam revision too. But now, it’s time to blog. Oh wait, cushion for the cankle: check. Mug of rose, papaya and mango tea: check. Bach’s cello suites: check. Ok, now it’s time to blog.
So it’s about time I filled you in on the second leg of my backpacking trip. I arrived in Bavaria on a grey and drizzly afternoon, completely unsuspecting of the fact that I would fall madly in love with almost everything I was to find in Germany during the next week. I had originally intended to skip the country altogether, wanting to focus mainly on the Mediterranean, but exams finished earlier than I’d anticipated and Germany was scrawled onto my Eurail pass.
The first thing I did in Munich was visit the Viktualienmarkt. Even knowing that markets never disappoint, I was surprised at the goodies I found here. I munched happily on my Bavarian burger with sweet mustard as I wandered the stalls of beer, cheeses, meats, breads, olives, dried chilli and handicrafts, listening to the beautiful voices around me.
Call me crazy (even half the Germans did), but I actually do love the sound of the language. So it doesn’t have the seductive flow of the romance languages – those six haughty queens: Italian, French, Spanish, Catalan, Portuguese and Romanian – but to me, German is handsome and majestic. And it’s just so satisfying to pronounce. Remember when I would read every French sign in Lausanne just to feel the words on my tongue? Well, guess what I was doing in Germany...
I digress – back to the markets: there was even a honighäusel – a honey house! And for dessert, I sampled Turkish delights of every imaginable flavour: kiwi, pomegranate, coconut, peach, chocolate... The Germans may not be too impressed with the Turkish immigration, but I wasn’t complaining at all.
A family friend kindly offered to put me up in Munich, and we decided to meet in Marienplatz so I could watch the famous
Schäfferltanz (cooper’s dance) on the glockenspiel. I thought it was a little overrated until I learned that the first performance took place in 1517 to commemorate the end of the plague...
Then, after a visit to
the beer hall in Munich,
Hofbräuhaus, where I vowed to return for Oktoberfest one year, and a climb up the 306 steps of Peterskirche (St Peter’s Church), we were ready for dinner. For some authentic Bavarian cuisine, we arrived at Sommerresidenz beer garden in Löwenbräukeller. I already knew what I wanted; I’d seen a table of big German men tuck into it at the beer hall earlier that afternoon
. Pig’s knuckle. The Bavarians call it Schweinshaxe (see why I want to speak German now?) and it tastes spectacular with a pint of local Weißbier. So that’s what I had.
You'd think that that was enough to last me a while, but you obviously don't know my metabolism very well, my dear reader. The very next day was spent discovering more Bavarian treats at the English Beer Garden. I was tempted to get the foot long pork ribs, but I settled instead for a modest sausage and a not-so-modest pretzel. And beer, of course. Don’t forget the beer. Thank goodness I'm only in Germany for the week...
