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Traveling in the Land of Lederhosen


A milling crowd at the market behind the Munich train station. Copyright: Tyson Brooks.Munich is a typical German city with splendid architecture and a beautiful river setting. Trying as always to look beneath the touristy veil a city dons for its visitors, I found a busy bazaar in a muddy lot behind the Haupt Bahnhof (train station). Immigrants mingled and sold used clothes, small appliances and refrigerators among piles of rubble. The scene looked more like something from a third-world country than clean, orderly Munich. Prices at the bazaar were cheap. I bought a huge loaf of bread for the same price I paid to use the bathroom in the train station.

 

I cut my time in Munich short because I yearned to be back in the countryside with miles of open road rolling beneath my worn bicycle tires. The rear tires were wearing much faster than the ones in front, so for weeks I had considered rotating my tires. Ignoring this tire-changing impulse, I headed towards the Chiemsee to discover another of Mad King Ludwig's magnificent creations. Accessible only by boat, this one was modeled after Versailles, only bigger. Unfortunately, King Ludwig ran out of money, so the castle remains unfinished. The 20 rooms that are completed are spectacular, while 50 others remain mere shells. Highlights of the castle include a cuckoo clock with a model of King Louis XIV substituted for the cuckoo, and a table that magically appears through the floor. Servants set the table and raise it to the dining room mechanically. The system was a bit slow, and as a result the food was usually cold. It took 25 servants 30 minutes to light all the candles, and each chandelier (40 hang in the 20 rooms) is worth roughly $500,000 U.S. dollars. It is no wonder the king ran out of money.

The Canal behind the Munich Campground, where the surf is always up. Copyright: Tyson Brooks.As I cycled on the rain continued to fall, leaving most of my gear soaked. The only set of dry clothes I had was the one I was wearing. My gear was layered in plastic bags and the raincoat I was wearing soaked through in the lightest shower. In between rainstorms, I cycled as far as I could before seeking shelter as the next cold rain shower bore down on me. Wherever I stopped, the rain dripping out of my panniers left puddles on the ground. The rain persisted and by nightfall I was still short of Salzburg (my destination). I opted instead for a delightful pension (bed and breakfast) in a small town of 50 or so inhabitants.In the field next door to the pension sat a huge tent with room for 500 or more people. A festival had started early that morning and was tapering off as I arrived. I walked in and immediately felt out of place among a crowd of people in traditional dress. Damn, I had left my lederhosen at home! Heading for the bar, I picked up the smallest beer they had (a liter of German brew in a stein heavy enough to break my wrist) and a sandwich. They were practically giving the sandwiches and beer away as the party wound down. Five sandwiches and a beer later, I was having a great time. The band still played, but the musicians were very drunk. They improvised many great tunes and once even broke into what sounded like the Muppets theme song. Occasionally, the drummer would lapse into a rock 'n' roll beat. The others would stop in confusion only to regroup minutes later with a new tune. People were dancing, slapping their thighs and letting out yodels of excitement.

An Onion-dome Church in Bavaria. Copyright: Tyson Brooks.Back at the pension, I had a peaceful night and woke to a gourmet breakfast. Not accustomed to German pension traditions, I was pleasantly surprised as I walked into the dining area and was seated at a table by the owner. She introduced me to everyone as "the Canadian cyclist who doesn't speak German" and everyone laughed. I had not though to introduce myself to the room full of friendly strangers and the owner's comment had saved me from getting a reputation for being rude and uncommuni- cative. By sheer luck I was seated next to a couple that spoke a tiny bit of English. They were also on a cycling vacation and we eagerly exchanged stories using a combination of mime, German and English. After eating until there was nothing left to eat, I excused myself and went to fetch my bike, which had been safely locked in the shed with the farm tractors the night before. I hit the road, finally heading for Salzburg and a new stage of my journey.

When you go:

Information on Bavaria: www.bavaria.com

Recommended reading:
Germany by Bike: 20 Tours Geared for Discovery
Nadine Slavinski, Mountaineers Books, 1994. www.mountaineersbooks.org

In the field next door to the pension sat a huge tent with room for 500 or more people. A festival had started early that morning and was tapering off as I arrived. I walked in and immediately felt out of place among a crowd of people in traditional dress. Damn, I had left my lederhosen at home! Heading for the bar, I picked up the smallest beer they had (a liter of German brew in a stein heavy enough to break my wrist) and a sandwich. They were practically giving the sandwiches and beer away as the party wound down. Five sandwiches and a beer later, I was having a great time. The band still played, but the musicians were very drunk. They improvised many great tunes and once even broke into what sounded like the Muppets theme song. Occasionally, the drummer would lapse into a rock 'n' roll beat. The others would stop in confusion only to regroup minutes later with a new tune. People were dancing, slapping their thighs and letting out yodels of excitement.

An Onion-dome Church in Bavaria. Copyright: Tyson Brooks.Back at the pension, I had a peaceful night and woke to a gourmet breakfast. Not accustomed to German pension traditions, I was pleasantly surprised as I walked into the dining area and was seated at a table by the owner. She introduced me to everyone as "the Canadian cyclist who doesn't speak German" and everyone laughed. I had not though to introduce myself to the room full of friendly strangers and the owner's comment had saved me from getting a reputation for being rude and uncommuni- cative. By sheer luck I was seated next to a couple that spoke a tiny bit of English. They were also on a cycling vacation and we eagerly exchanged stories using a combination of mime, German and English. After eating until there was nothing left to eat, I excused myself and went to fetch my bike, which had been safely locked in the shed with the farm tractors the night before. I hit the road, finally heading for Salzburg and a new stage of my journey.

When you go:

Information on Bavaria: www.bavaria.com

Recommended reading:
Germany by Bike: 20 Tours Geared for Discovery
Nadine Slavinski, Mountaineers Books, 1994. www.mountaineersbooks.org