Europe Trip: Munich

This is what Munich looks like.


This is mostly what we saw of Munich.

This, and 30-odd hotels, the red light district, numerous subway stations, and hundreds of oktoberfest revelers stumbling through the train station in their dirndls and lederhosen. And a laundromat.

We dutifully checked the Oktoberfest schedule long before we made our plans, as any good traveler would know to do. We knew that if Oktoberfest was happening, rooms would be outrageously expensive and booked in advance. We saw (on many official sites, if you doubt us, you can go check for yourself (Mom)) that Oktoberfest ended the day before we got there. Well, those silly Bavarians decided that the last day of Oktoberfest might conflict with another holiday, so they added a day, only in Munich. Their extra day of celebration conflicted with the largest Real Estate Expo in all of Europe, which started, coincedentally, on the night we arrived. So, there was not a room to be had in all of Munich. And that is not an exaggeration.

This all became clear to us as we inquired at hotels left and right, only to be turned away, and as we saw the remains of Oktoberfest (people in their costumes singing, stumbling, and carrying pieces of the decorations and decorated cookies) steadily streaming through the train station. We decided to ride the subway to another part of town to try to get away from the craziness, but still every hotel was booked (it was a MONDAY night by the way...who would have guessed?) We rode back to the train station to try to buy tickets to somewhere, anywhere, so that we could sleep on a train or in the train station (which we would have done but there were no benches and it was Germany...there are probably rules against that). I started to wonder if we would be sleeping under a bridge.

We returned to the red light district (with the cheapest hotels) and a man at the front desk said his hotel was full but he knew someone who could provide a room in his apartment. It was 2 am and we had no bargaining tools left...and our marriage was on the line. We agreed. We made an old Croatian man very happy and very rich.

Now lay your eyes upon the most expensive hotel room we have ever stayed in and probably will ever stay in:


Oh, it came with breakfast, what a deal:

It was actually very similar to a Kazakh apartment, with twin beds pushed together to make a king and wrapping paper on the wall as decoration.

The next day, we put our efforts toward laundry and getting out of Munich. There were now rooms available for a third of the price in some of the hotels, but we were done with Munich. It was rainy all day, which made me a little smug...if it's going to rain, it might as well be on our worst day ever.

We figured out we wanted to get to a Bavarian village, so we chose one called Fussen that was big enough to have lots of lodging and transportation, but still in beautiful surroundings. Jeremy called lots of B&Bs and cheap hotels while I stood in line to try to figure out train tickets. As I was in the line for English speakers (Euraide), I read an article about how the man at the Euraide office has come to the rescue of unsuspecting tourists who arrive in Munich during Oktoberfest and end up sleeping in a field or taking the next train out (and the article claimed he saved many marriages as well...I felt a little sheepish for relating so much to the article). Suddenly, the man from the article appeared, speaking American English and asking people where they needed to go and swiftly securing them the best deals. He was an angel. The whole line of frustrated tourists seemed to offer a collective sigh of relief. Thank you, man in the Euraide office.

You would think our troubles would be over, right? Wrong.

I got us our tickets while Jeremy got us a reservation where we thought we wanted to stay, the lovely Bavarian town of Fussen. We triple checked our train information, were proud of ourselves for realizing on our own that we would need to change trains at one of the stops, we asked for help, paid attention, blah blah blah. We didn't even eat dinner because we were holding out for pretzels and German refreshment sitting on a patio overlooking the mountains when we finally arrived and could put our suitcases down and relax. Near the end of our train ride (we were to arrive in Fussen at 6), Jeremy looked troubled and said, "We're on the wrong train." What???? We asked a fellow passenger and she said, "Oh yes, at the last stop, the train split in two and one part went to Fussen but this part went the other way." Um, how were we supposed to know that...and if we had just happened to sit in another coach we would have been in Fussen?

We tried not to panic and managed to figure out how to get back to Fussen without having to pay for another ticket. We would now arrive a little past 8 pm. We went to a grocery store and bought a carton of ice cream and scrounged up 2 forks and consoled ourselves while we waited for our train back the way we had just come.

Upon arriving in Fussen, which was cute and quaint and wonderful, we were informed that our hotel was NOT in Fussen, but out in the cow pastures 5 km away. And the busses had stopped running at 8. And the two taxis were already taken. And it would be an expensive ride. Jeremy tried hitchhiking, but we didn't even know what direction we were going. We finally got a taxi and drove past cute Bavarian beer gardens and restaurants and into the dark to the middle of nowhere. He dropped us at the hotel we had listed on our paper. We rang the bell, and a rather drunk front desk assistant finally appeared and refused to honor our booking. I felt my feet cement to the floor as I decided fiercely that there was no way we weren't staying at that hotel for the price that we had been quoted. The lady just gave up and gave us a key and told us to come back to do paperwork the next morning. We did, the room was great, the lake view was really a construction site view from what we could see in the dark, we walked down to the one restaurant that was open and had schnitzel and actually enjoyed ourselves for the first time in 24 hours.

Would we go back to Munich? Probably, but only for free because we left enough of our money there on this trip. But I don't ever think I want to see the Hauptbahnhof (Main train station) ever again. And do you want to know a secret? I would want to go back during Oktoberfest because I want to wear a dirndl and see Jeremy in lederhosen. Don't laugh.




Next Stop: Bavaria, and "The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music (aah ah ah-ah)"

Europe Trip: Edinburgh and Those...Colorful...Scots

We arrived in Edinburgh just in time to sneak the car into return the car to the rental garage a l-ee-tle bit late, then we set out on foot to find cheap lodgings. We ended up at a guesthouse run by a completely Scottish great-grandma (I mean, I didn't ask her for DNA proof, but she was everything you would picture a Scottish great-grandma being. I could hardly understand her when she spoke).

For some reason, seeing Jeremy in a frilly pink room sipping tea from a tiny cup was amusing to me.

We relaxed in the pink room a bit, then headed out on the town to find some dinner.

We were struck with the gloomy, brooding beauty of Edinburgh. The medieval buildings were tall, in fact our guidebook said people came there to see the "skyscrapers" of the day. Edinburgh used to be called "Auld Reekie" because it was built in a lake bed that was filled with raw sewage (and people practiced "gardy loo"--throwing their human waste out the windows onto the sidewalk below, yelling "gardy loo" which means "watch out for the toilet contents I will now throw out the window.") One museum we went to, called Gladstone's Land (land means apartment) had an attachement for women's shoes that raised them up above the *stuff* on the sidewalk so their shoes and hems wouldn't get *dirty*.

We ended up at a pub called Ensign Ewart's that was right by the castle. If we had realized (in the dark) that it was right by the castle, I don't think we would have gone because that would have been a big tourist trap warning, but we didn't so we went. It was kind of in a basement and dark and crowded and had people in it that looked like the ones behind Jeremy in this picture:
which is what I expected Edinburgh-ans to look like (mohawks and tatoos and all gothic-y). That's actually the only reason I took the picture of Jeremy--to get them in the background...aren't I sneaky? The food was pretty bad. After dinner, we got to see the wild side of Edinburgh, since it was Saturday night. It was pretty wild--lots of beer and whisky (which everyone seemed to take pride in--the Scots seem known for their drinking, it was refered to all the time on tours). We also saw more memorials to reformers and information about what sort of torture or punishment happened at different spots. There were lots of dungeon tours being advertised. The Scots seem to embrace that part of their history as well, or maybe they are smart business people who embrace the money that is to be made by tourists. It was an interesting place to people-watch, that's for sure.

The next morning, after full Scottish breakfast (I know the Scots probably don't think so, but to us, the only thing different than full English breakfast was the name. Sorry.) we headed off to Edinburgh Castle.

The castle was built on top of an extinct volcano. It overlooks the city and is really cool. We got a very interesting and fiesty tour guide and Jeremy actually wanted to stay for the end of the tour when I was ready to bail, which proves that she was interesting.

Jeremy and William Wallace (a.k.a. Braveheart). The Scots have a long history of trying to retain their identity as a people...it made a lot of the history very interesting.

Evidence of the castle being built on a volcano

Along with being beer-drinkers, the Scots are known for being tight with their money, so even though other castles in Great Britain would shoot 12 cannon blasts at noon every day, the soldiers at Edinburgh castle cleverly decided to shoot 1 blast at 1.

The water in the distance is the Firth of Forth. Or maybe the Forth of Firth. I get confused. But it is by the Kingdom of Fife.

Cemetery for soldiers' dogs

Cool room decorated with weapons. The picture doesn't really do it justice.

Heading down to the dungeons and jail cells. We learned about how prisoners were treated, and how punishments were usually physical and public--jail was just the holding place until punishment was given.

American prisoners during the revolution were treated worse than other prisoners of war--they were treated the same as pirates or traitors. On this old door there is an etching of an early American flag done by a revolutionary war soldier.

Another enterprising Scot. Take a picture with Braveheart, the money goes to "a charity for children." Hmm.

We explored some more, walking down the Royal Mile, eating doner/falafel, and reading from the guide book (well, I was...Jeremy was done with it at that point, I think).

Those people walked into my pretty picture. Hmph.

We went to the Palace of Holyroodhouse at the bottom of the Royal Mile (pretty much only because we had our British Heritage Passes to use and I liked the name of it). It was pretty standard palace stuff, but there were some interesting stories about Mary Queen of Scots that happened there that made me want to learn more about her.

The original "talk to the hand."

The tour was on audio guides so it was funny to see everyone standing around like they were on the phone everywhere.

I took this picture to give my boys more ideas for funny faces.

After the palace, we walked by the Bowling Club (lawn bowling). I went in to see if we could play or watch and an old man explained to me that the season had ended Oct. 2nd so if we had come yesterday he would have shown me but since it was Oct. 3rd, no one could play. Did I mention that people in the U.K. are really into tradition?

That night, we had plans to meet some MOPS leaders for church and curry afterward. When I asked our Scottish hostess how to get to the community where the church was located, she acted shocked and offended and in her thick Scottish brogue she said, "Why would you be wanting to go to Westerhailes? No one goes to Westerhailes. Except the drug addicts and prostitutes. You'll have to hold your bags while you are there, aye. No, you shouldn't be going to Westerhailes. Why are you going? To church, oh, I'll find you a church here" and refused to tell us what bus to take. We figured out the buses, and while we were waiting, Jeremy found me a bagpipe player. I simply wanted a picture with him, but I got more than I bargained for.

"Can I take my picture with you?" "Oh, you want me to play it?" "Okay, you'll wipe the mouthpiece off with a dingy wet-wipe?" "Oh, I see, you're blind."

"Okay, this is where I put my fingers"

The first attempt

The result: the sound of a goat being strangled

There goes my bus...too bad, I was really catching on.

We found the church and met our new friends. It was nice to go to a church that was alive, not just an empty historic building. The church was nice and no one tried to grab my bag, but later we learned that the area was known for it's drugs and illegal activity, and that the church was doing a lot to reach out in the community. We went out with the MOPS gang afterward and really enjoyed their company. The conversation was lively and challenging, bouncing from MOPS, to marriage, to life, to history, interspersed with lots of laughing. I left being reminded what a great outreach MOPS is and that I shouldn't forget to enjoy being a mom...or I should say, mum.

It was good to have spent some time with real people, and it gave Jeremy and I new things to talk about...it had kind of seemed like we had run out of topics (Thanks for providing some entertainment (and much much more), Penni and Stuart and Kirsty and Allie).

The next day, we explored some more...the weather was great, which everyone assured us was highly unusual. We went to an art museum and a lame Georgian House. We found Edinburgh's version of the soup Nazi...a cool sandwich shop called "Snax" that was filled with locals and caused me some stress while ordering (I was thrown off by the baked potato toppings...I mean the sign said "Cold toppings: Chicken curry, sandwich ingredients/Hot toppings: macaroni and cheese, chili (and I didn't trust the British version of chili for some reason, and mac n cheese or cold curry didn't sound good on a potato)).

The proper Scottish guesthouse; the husband who didn't get out of the picture in time.

The charming dining room--I loved the decor!

We ended our day at the airport, sampling Scottish whisky (and being glad we never ordered any in a restaurant "for the Scottish experience"), spending our last pounds in preparation for Euros, and learning of travel warnings in the countries we were visiting. I felt uneasy, and maybe should have taken it as a foreshadowing of our impending travel nightmare...

Next Stop: MUNICH.

Europe Trip: British Heritage Blitz (Northumberland)

Hadrian's Wall, Northumberland National Park

Before we left, I bought British Heritage Passes online for us to use in the UK. The passes seemed like a great deal because you could get into lots of castles and palaces with them...but due to confusing roads, bad weather, and places we had to be at certain times, we ended up not using them as much as we thought we would. Our day of travel to Edinburgh (our last day with our car) was deemed "British Heritage Blitz"--in which we would try to use our passes the most possible times to get our money's worth out of them.

We woke up early, got lunch/snacks at a grocery store, and headed off to Hadrian's Wall--the northernmost border of the Roman Empire. This part of the trip really captivated my imagination...it was crazy to think of the Roman Empire stretching all the way to this point and all the land to the north being the wild unknown. I loved traveling north...the scenery got bigger and more vast, the history got "older", the names of places got a little stranger, and the accents stronger (but the radio stations didn't get any better). And, if you got injured, you could be picked up by an "invalid carriage." That didn't have anything to do with the story, I just wanted to put it in somewhere.

Jeremy enjoying driving on the British side of the road/car

Kaci manning the command station...usually 4 maps going at once, sometimes the opening and closing of the maps got in the driver's line of vision but he didn't complain too much.

Again, I didn't take any pictures of the scenery, but it was hard to capture the beauty with a craigslist camera and amateur photography skills. Here's what wikipedia has to say about Northumberland:

"Being on the border of England and Scotland, Northumberland has been the site of many battles. The county is noted for its undeveloped landscape of high moorland, a favourite with landscape painters, and now largely protected as a National Park. Northumberland is the most sparsely populated county in England, with only 62 people per square kilometre.

The area was once part of the Roman Empire and as Northumberland it was the scene of many wars between England and Scotland. As evidence of its violent history, Northumberland has more castles than any other county in England, including the castles of Alnwick, Bamburgh, Dunstanburgh and Warkworth."

Alnwick Castle, which I think we might have seen out the window of the car

We drove along Hadrian's Wall (the Roman Wall) to Housestead's Roman Fort. We had learned about this fort (or a fort near it) at the British Museum and the movie (that I don't recommend) King Arthur. The British Museum had letters written by soldiers who were stationed there--most likely bored and cold much of the time but under constant vigilance due to attacks from the Saxons and Kelts and Merlin and blue people...(oh wait, that last part was from King Arthur). The first recorded writing by a woman to another woman was from here...an invitation to a birthday party for her son. The fort is on a sheep farmer's (are they farmers? I don't know) land...you opened and shut his gates and stepped in his sheep's poo on the way there.

I liked how un-gimmicky it was...a few signs and no reconstruction (the only evidence of maintenance we saw was a woman scraping moss off the rocks with what looked like a credit card). The rest was left to our imaginations.

It's interesting to think about the centuries following the Roman Empire's fall when these forts and sites wouldn't have been considered special or worth preserving...the lady we talked to confirmed our suspicion that many of the stones from the fort are now in farmer's houses or fences because of the ease of not having to cut new ones.

Jeremy checking out the best example of Roman latrines

If you click on the picture, you can see how the latrines were used...ew

Next we headed to the coast to see Bamburgh Castle. It was a cool castle on the coast--from it you could see two other castles.

The castle dungeon with bloody mannequins and a tape playing moaning and clanging sounds. The castle had a lot of used weapons on display, but I didn't take any pictures because I was too busy cringing at the thought of their uses.

After the castle, we went to Holy Island...the place where Christianity was first brought to England by St. Cuthbert in the 600s. Holy Island is only an island during high tide, so we drove across a road that is only open in low tide. It was beautiful. It seemed strange to learn of the life of St. Cuthbert...who seemed only to want to be left alone, who even moved to a more remote island to get away from people, yet was constantly pestered to do things for the people and whose remains are now enshrined at Durham Cathedral and considered to have magical powers and are a pilgrimage site. Holy Island is where the monks created the beautifully illustrated Lindisfarne Gospels (a far better use of their time than monks we would learn about later in our travels). The gospels are considered a rare work of ancient art...and we just missed seeing them in London. Next time, next time.

There is a castle out on that penninsula--click to enlarge

We had to hurry on to Edinburgh to drop off our car by closing time, so we didn't get to explore as much as we wanted. The border crossing was as uneventful as crossing a state line in the U.S., and I read the "Edinburgh" and "Is Scotland Really A Country?" sections aloud from Rick Steves' guide book as we traveled...more on those topics tomorrow.

Next Stop: Edinburgh (which I will write about carefully because my new Scottish friends will probably be reading this) :)