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Just before hitting the road we made a decision to skip Prague and Vienna and go straight down to Munich. We had to make some cuts from the list and those seemed more doable in the future. We took the Autobahn almost all the way to Munich. We stayed with Steve's friend Erik, whom he grew up with in Rodersdorf. We arrived in the evening and went to a Bavarian restaurant. I had a spargel (asparagus) cream soup and a salad. Erik and his girlfriend gave us their couch for the night but not before we went to a bar to watch the Champion's League Final. Munich was playing Chelsea in Munich that night so every bar was full and every fan was out. Unfortunately for Munich, they lost in the shoot out. I am glad I wasn't downtown. The next morning we left after a hearty but painful breakfast of white sausage and pretzels. This is a very traditional Bavarian breakfast and is served with beer. Erik had a pint but the rest of us had coffee. Beer in the morning will never sit well with me. The sausage is very soft and eaten with sweet mustard. You have to peel it too, unlike nearly every other sausage in Germany. Although it's very good, it's a meal that haunts you for the rest of the day.
After breakfast we left for Dachau to tour the concentration camp there. For only three Euros each we got a guided tour in English by a German historian. Pretty awesome. As our guide Bernd pointed out, it's best to learn German history from a German rather than a foreigner, and he was right. Not only was he a good age to have some personal experiences and viewpoints from his parents, but he also had a thick accent, which made it fun to tune in. Being a historian, Bernd was able to answer every question in great detail and usually with some interesting facts not found on the many information panels in the museum. The tour lasted 2 ½ hours and took us into each building still standing. The barracks were torn down for obvious reasons and one was reconstructed to show people how they looked inside. Where the rows and rows of barracks used to stand are now strips of foundation filled with gravel. We walked through one hall of prison-like doors that was home to the "special" or "celebrity" prisoners like Stalin's son and many priests who refused to collaborate with the regime. Because Hitler wanted to make deals with these important figures to gain control of the people, he treated them slightly better than the rest of the camp. They had their own cell with a heater and ate more food than the others. However, many cruel tactics were used to try to sway the celebrity prisoners into a new mindset. The heaters were turned off in the winter and blasted in the summer, for example.
The crematorium on site, which housed the gas chamber, was actually never used for mass murder at Dachau but built rather for experimental purposes and as a model for extermination camps like Auschwitz. Administration procedures and other tactics for torture or punishment that were first successful in Dachau were taken to other camps by head guards who relocated. Almost every well-known SS Guard of other camps in Holocaust history started his "career" at Dachau.
The tour was very good and very moving. It is a strange feeling to stand in the center of the massive courtyard and imagine hundreds of men standing for roll call every morning and night. Even the dead were to be counted…so the living had to bring them out each morning. I can't imagine living through what thousands of people there did. When the Americans liberated the camp in 1945, many had survived long enough to celebrate it. Although the Americans made the mistake of feeding the starving men too quickly and with rich foods, which resulted in the deaths of many, the majority of the survivors left the gates to never return. Bernd told us that each year the known survivors are welcomed back for a reunion and celebration of life to teach others about what happened in their pasts. This year 150 returned. For obvious reasons, many would never be able to bear it.
After our heavy tour, we drove the van to the city of Dachau and parked in a neighborhood near the train station. From there we took the train to Munich, about 20 minutes away. We wandered around the city, which was very quiet because it was Sunday, and found ourselves at the English Gardens. Steve had read about the river surfers and it wasn't hard to find them. Lot's of people gathered to watch the guys and girls tackling a man-made river that flows through the English Gardens. It comes rushing out from under a bridge and makes a steady wave. Surfers drop their board in on the wave from the river's edge and start cutting back and forth. Some people looked like it was their first week on a board and others were doing 360s. It was very fun to watch and the tourists on the bridge couldn't get enough. One Japanese girl to my right had been taking a video for almost 15 minutes! Afterward we walked through the paths and came out in a huge clearing where hundreds of people were gathered on blankets or in groups kicking a ball around. The most interesting part of the park was the scattered, nude sun- bathers. It wasn't a nudist park but it also wasn't illegal. Two or three older men were lying with a book or minding their own business, but one guy (probably in his early 50s) was an attention seeker. He was stark naked accept for a ball cap and sneakers. His tight drum beer belly was red from the sun and his...you know...was ghastly; but there was a clear reason why he felt deserving of attention. He kept standing near people who were playing soccer or throwing a Frisbee. I think he wanted the chance to run around and hoped they would include him. Two guys did this for a while but soon stopped passing the ball his way. So, he just sauntered toward me and Steve then stood with his hands on his hips and stared into the distance. Many people were gawking and laughing. One group of English guys thought it was the funniest thing they'd seen in years, apparently. They were pointing and laughing from across the small river that divided the park. But naked guy didn't mind. He never changed a muscle in his face. He was in his own world that day. Maybe everyday.
After a short time in Munich we took the train back and relocated the van to a lot for overnight parking. We made some pasta and passed out in the roof-bed of our van. We awoke to the loud sounds of diesel semi-trucks starting up next to us. After picking up some groceries and filling up the tank, we headed to Hohenschwangau, the tourist town at the base of Neuschwanstein Castle. This castle is the most famous in Germany despite it being one of many. The builder, King Ludwig II, was said to be a little cookoo and built many odd rooms. During our tour, we saw only one and it was a passage that looked like a cave. The tour cost 12 Euros each and was about 30 minutes short. It was actually terrible. I was very disappointed because I have grown up learning about it in German classes and thought it would blow my socks off. But, my socks were still. It wasn't the fault of the castle. The 23 year-old tour guide was monotone and lacked information. He seemed to only know what was in the "Being a Tour Guide at Neuschwanstein" employee handbook. The interior was incredible. The King's bedroom and its furniture was covered in hand-carved woodworks that took 10-years of labor to complete by several carvers simultaneously. The whole castle was dedicated to the composer Richard Wagner and his works. The King admired Wagner from a young age. After the interior tour we were set loose on the grounds. We took a path to a bridge that overlooked the castle and saw some amazing views as the photos can only describe.
After putting the spires into our rearview, we drove a few hours straight to Steve's cousin's house for the night. We arrived in a small town on the border of Germany and Switzerland in the rain. His cousin Manuel and his girlfriend and daughter lived in a modern apartment hidden in the old exterior of a unique neighborhood. The narrow cobblestoned streets and tall apartment-like buildings stretched and curved all over town, as we saw from a hill while walking the dog that night. We talked, had a light dinner (frozen pizza) and cleaned up.
The next morning after breakfast and some playing with the baby (I think she was 18 months), we crossed the Rhine River into Switzerland. We paid 30 Euros to use the Autobahn in Switzerland (even though it took no time at all before we were in Italy), because they don't have toll roads, only year passes. The countryside was amazing and smelled like cow s***. I took a big whiff and thought of my youth.
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