Adventures in Germany. Quite literally.

It’s been quite awhile since I have taken the time to update this blog and I understand that, at least some of you, have been anxiously awaiting the latest installment. I’m sorry it has taken me so long and, in the future, I will try to update it more frequently. 

However, my lack of recent updates reminds me a bit of a quote from one of my favorite movies, Forgetting Sarah Marshall (albeit, I’ve substituted some words): “I was going to update my blog, but then, umm, I just carried on living my life.”

Now, I mean no disrespect to any of you by relating my situation to that quote, but if I don’t live my life, I have nothing interesting to write about, and by default, you have nothing interesting to read. It’s a lose-lose situation and if I just wrote something for the sake of writing something, it would be worse than my very first draft of my Fulbright Statement of Grant Purpose essay (which was so bad it made my fifth grade paper on Humpback Whales seem like Pulitzer Prize winning stuff.) 

Anyhow, recent life took me to Munich, Germany from October 29-November 1*. (I put the asterisk next to that date because it really ended up being November 2, but that’s a story for a little bit later on in the post.) We flew out of Valencia on Ryanair, one of the classiest European airlines. It’s like the Megabus of Europe. Our flight there was relatively decent with the exception of being an hour late. Our return flight, was non-existent, but, yet again, I’ll get to that later. We landed in Memmigen, Germany in an airport that is smaller than Tuttleman Hall on Temple’s Campus and took the bus to Munich.

After our bus ride to Munich and taxi to the hotel which included listening to a mash-up of intense German rap and the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song, we arrived at our hotel very hungry and took the front desk guy’s suggestion of eating at the Indian restaurant next door. However, as we walked into the restaurant, which was really more like walking into some rich kid’s tenth birthday party, we were informed that the restaurant had closed only a minute earlier. Luckily, the host was nice and said we could eat there anyway, but still gave us a ten minute lecture on being aware of opening and closing times at restaurants. We tried to eat as quickly as possible and get out of there, but our plan was thwarted when said host came up and asked us if we would like more rice. Already full and thinking we should just pay and leave so we could let him close once again, we said, “Thank you, but we think we’re good.” That was apparently the wrong answer as we were immediately greeted by a huff and “You know, if I keep this restaurant open for you, do NOT deny the rice.” Of course, such a situation would only happen to us. 

Hotel Kent: The beds were like sleeping on clouds.

The next morning included a nice ride on the Underground, getting lost on the Underground, switching trains, and finally ending up in the Marienplatz. The Marienplatz quite literally looks like it jumped out of the page of a book in a fairy tale. We ate in a little shop that provided the best croissant I have ever had and waited for our tour to Dachau Concentration Camp to begin. (I will not be writing about the experiences at Dachau in this post as it requires a post of its own. I strongly encourage you to read the next post for that documentation.) While waiting, we got to watch the Glockenspiel, which, quite unfortunately, lives up to its dubbing as the “second most overrated tourist attraction in Europe.” In fact, the tour guide’s parody of what happens in the Glockenspiel was better than the actual thing itself. The rest of the day was spent at Dachau, followed by a good German dinner of Kaiserspatzle with new friends and walking around the same city block for three miles. 

Oh, Good Morning, Marienplatz!

I believe Neima's reaction to this was "HOLY S---!"

Does this not look like it was taken out of a Fairy Tale?

Sadly overrated.

Full day two in Munich started late as we were a bit tired from the day before, but it was still just as eventful. After attempting to find a free bathroom in the city and stumbling upon a makeshift memorial to Michael Jackson, we took a free walking tour of the city. The tour guide was very enthusiastic and you could tell she loved what she did. I thought it was a compliment when one of my roommates told me that he could see me being just like her in a few years...living in Europe, teaching English, and being a crazy tour guide. But the commonalities between the tour guide, whose name is Diana, and myself don’t end there: it turns out she is not only from Philadelphia, but went to Temple and received a Fulbright as well (she stayed after her Fulbright year and is studying to get a German teaching degree, hence why she is there now.) Small world. Later that night, we went on a tour that taught us about the German Beer culture. We had a different tour guide, but were surprised to see Diana join us on that tour. 

Random Michael Jackson memorial.

More important than MJ, but less publicized historical memorial.
The history is long, but displays the people's disdain of the Third Reich.

Lions all over Munich!

Hofbaruhaus. Even my mother told me I "just have to go there."

Paulaner Biergarten.

The next day was a long one, which was made longer by our airport mishaps. We left our hotel early and with time to kill just meandered around the city. Neima went to a Starbucks to read while Brittni and I explored a bit and then sat in and looked around the Frauenkirsche, the church that was built by the Devil himself. Britt had a lot of questions about certain things people do in Catholic churches (since she is Protestant) and it was nice to see her find everything so interesting. Finally, we all met up at the Hauptbanhof and got on the bus to go home. 

Or so we thought....

We had to go back to Memmigen Airport, which is an hour and a half away from Munich. Our flight ended up being delayed four hours due to fog and then was ultimately cancelled. Now, I’ve never been on a flight that was cancelled and didn’t know what to do so I made a 6.50 euro phone call to my Dad, which in retrospect was a stupid idea since, being 6,000 miles away, he was unable to help me. (It’s okay though...Britt made an equally expensive phone call to her grandmother in South Dakota to arrive at the same conclusion.) Memmingen Airport kindly told us that if we would like to wait until the next flight, we would be guaranteed a spot on it. The only catch is that flights only fly into and out of that airport on Tuesdays and Saturdays. We then started calling friends in Spain and luckily our good friend, Lisa, was able to find us a flight to Alicante (a city south of Valencia) through Air Berlin at 6:00 am from the main airport back in Munich. We boarded the bus again which was another hour and a half ride to the Hauptbanhof, where we boarded a half-hour train that took us to the airport. After arriving at the airport at 2:15 am to find that the Air Berlin check-in desks were not yet open, we slept on chairs with the other stranded people from our original flight. Luckily, I woke up just as the check-in desk was opening at 4:00 and we were seamlessly able to get through check-in and security and then sit at our gate. I was so hungry that I relented and bought a 5.50 euro bottle of freshly squeezed kiwi juice knowing it was all I had eaten in close to over thirteen hours and all I would eat in God only knows how long. 

Air Berlin itself is a very nice airline. It provides you with free sandwiches, drinks, and magazines, and includes my favorite thing: assigned seats on flights. (I HATE fighting to get a good seat on Southwest and Ryanair.) Too bad Brittni and I were asleep the entire flight and did not enjoy any of these things. Luckily, Neima was nice enough to ask the flight attendant for some nice vegetarian sandwiches for us for later. The only time I wasn’t sleeping I vaguely remember groggily staring out the window down at the beautiful French Alps that were snowcapped and visible through the clouds. I stupidly didn’t even think to take a picture. 

After arriving in Alicante, we had to take another half-hour bus to the train station where we learned that the earliest trains and/or buses to Valencia were at 2:30 pm. It was only 10:08 am. Therefore, we did the only thing we could think of doing: sleeping at the train station. I’ve never felt so dirty in my life. Long story made shorter, we arrived at our apartment at 5:00 pm after over 24 hours. I’ve never been so happy to be home in my life. 

Looking back, I’m proud of myself for having only one moment of freaking out in which I called my Dad and then regrouping to get it together and get home. Looking back, it’s a good story to tell and a great life experience to have. It’s nice to be able to look back on it and laugh. After all, what else can we do?

I’ll be leaving Spain again next weekend (November 11-13) with Brittni and Lisa to go to Paris. We’re flying Ryanair again. Please just say  prayer or something that we don’t have any problems with our commutes. As fun as our German airport adventure was, I’d like to skip that same good time in France.